Chapter 13 Warriors Don't Wear Lace
A whole week of training with Valtok has left my body a bruise, a big throbbing bruise. Yet I get up every morning and do all of his training exercises even practicing when my body just wants to curl up and never stand again. I haven't even seen Wolkif wandering around. But its the night of the dance and I'm almost positive he'll show his face and I will still feel like my legs are perpetually giving out under me. Valtok doesn't wake me up today, letting me sleep and relax for once probably spending the morning with my father to figure out a mission to send me on. Wolfie enjoys sleeping in today but I still get up early and take a warm bath to sooth my still sore muscles and maybe be able to actually walk to the feast tonight.
Laying my arm on the edge of the bath around me I look at my scared arm. The scar isn't particularly ugly but almost perfect, the raised skin is still a fresh pink but the skin sunken down is perfectly white like the lace of my mothers favorite nightgown. The words are a mix of pink and white making it look like intricate scales along the thick body wrapped around my arm like a snake. Slowly I trace the first few lines starting at the dragons head and down his body. The lines are thick and soft to the touch feeling like a baby's skin rather then a horrible burn, a rebirth of my skin almost. Reborn of fire and blood, thats what old tales would say I found in the library when I was a child, father hid them away but I was a curious little thing and hell bent on knowing why he would hide something from me. I found them in a locked drawer in one of the studies desks he favored, my nurse had a key and when she fell asleep with her needle work I stole the key and read the books as often as I could. Knights would fight dragons in these books and if they survived slaying the dragon they would become heroes and everyone would love them. But in one story it was a criminal that slue the dragon and saved a princess he was called the reborn one from fire and blood, he could communicate with the dragons after that and even bore a scar of his triumph. All his crimes were forgotten and he was celebrated for becoming the hero when no knight before him could slay this dragon.
I hated how they were called heroes for killing a beast of magic and now I hate them for killing every one of them and leaving me nothing but a burn on my arm in a language no one reads. I am bitter and alone with a dead dragon haunting me.
Soon enough Marsyla comes to help me get dressed and fix my hair. She stands behind me combing out my long locks and telling me about the latest gossip but I barely listen to her instead running my fingers over the bumps on my arm under my sleeve. I remember how gentle Wolkif was cleaning it, it hurt but he cared enough, again, to not want to hurt me more. Yet seeing him again after so many years apart I know that nothing of the boy I loved is left even if he has moments where I think I see a ghost of it, he's not there at all. "Princess Sylenia?" She sings poking me with the brush.
"Yes, sorry I was just lost in thought for a moment." She nods.
"Who were you thinking about?" She winks at me through the mirror.
"No one, I have this scar on my arm and I don't quite remember why I have it." Not a complete lie.
"Are you sure? Because I saw you smiling and I can tell when a girl smiles because of a boy." She winks again.
"No, no boy just a memory of a ghost I suppose." She stays quiet after that just brushing my hair then braiding it in a pretty fashion with pearls and blue ribbons that will please my mother undoubtedly. Then leaves me to dress on my own. The pants feel softer than my others, the material isn't as corse against my legs and hands and the pockets aren't noticeable only looking like little folds in the material, slipping on the top part of my dress I find that it laces in the front making it easier for me to dress on my own. The simple gold heels Marsyla picked out are my sisters but she would never mind me using them. I step out from my bathroom to my empty chambers and notice a Night Whisper flower, it only blooms under a full moon and sky of stars. Leaving it in my window I go still feeling alone but not afraid tonight.
As I walk to the ballroom I decide to take the long way remembering how the quiet empty halls where an escape from my family and the endless parties mother loves. As we got older she didn't have as many because we wouldn't let her dress us like her dolls anymore. Even now I find the silence comforting.
Finally arriving at the ballroom a quick song begins to play and couples spin around the floor giggling. Mother smiles around the room until her eyes land on me then the fiercest scowl darkens her sweet face. "I almost had hope you would not make it tonight but I see you have decided to let me down once again." The words sting but I ignore the pain pushing it away instead and taking a seat beside her. "No remarks tonight? I guess there are still small blessings." She looks out around her and I see her happiness at the beauty of the ball and of the beauty of her guests, none quite compare to her and she thrives on that. Her vanity makes her jealous and spiteful yet her loveliness makes her seem kind and pure. Even my sisters are not as beautiful as her and she loves them for it, her hate for me stems from her grief and her heartless contempt.
"I guess there are, I see you have no wine mother please let me get you some." I say softly which seems to surprise her. "So I may poison it." I whisper to myself as I walk away to get her a cup. Instead of bringing it back I let a servant take it to her and going for a walk in the cold night air, being around so many people is not my favorite place. But before I can disappear Valtok grabs my arm stopping me.
"This seems like a good time to play a game." I sigh pulling out of his grasp.
"I don't want to play your games." He pulls back and let's me go outside.
Walking slowly around the grounds I listen to the night and the sound of the grass crunching under my feet. I don't mind the dew soaking into the small train if my dress it seems to shimmer in the moonlight making it more beautiful than before. I hear the sound of something trotting behind me getting closer, the sound of 4 paws comforts me as Wolfie comes up beside me with his big golden eyes glowing in the darkness at me. "Yes, I'm running away from a party I was at for like 2 minutes, I just don't feel like myself tonight and being in there isn't helping." He licks my hand and dips his head under it making me rest my fingers between his soft ears. "Lovely night isn't it?" I say quietly feeling the need to actually talk instead of walk silently with him, probably just distracting myself from Valtok. I feel him nod as I look up at the sky. "I almost wish I had someone to dance with, I mean I'm wearing a beautiful dress and yet I haven't danced in it yet, what do you think, shall I dance alone?" I look down at him jokingly. "No you're right I don't wish to dance I want to run away, far from here somewhere I'm actually loved." I joke looking back up at the sky but feel wolfies head slip out from under my palm. I let him stop not turning to look why. "I know, it's impossible to love me huh?" I laugh for a moment at my own sadness, why should I feel like this when I've always known my mother hated me, when I've wanted to hear someone say they love me. Maybe he's just not the person I wanted to say it.
"I am so sorry princess." Someone says behind me. I turn sharply as I feel a sting on my arm and then a warmth spreads through the muscles and my head gets foggy. I don't see anyone in the dark and my vision goes too blurry to make out anything, my eye lids begin to fall and my body goes slack. I expect to feel the ground hit me but instead I fall into waiting arms and panic as the drug begins to put me to sleep. I fight it for as long as possible only getting snippets of what's around us before blacking out completely.
I hear a fire crackling beside me along with the sizzle of meat. My head pounds along with my heartbeat and spikes with the pop of the fire. I moan as my fingers search out my forehead like touching it will make it stop. My wrists tug against the ropes wrapped around them and I remember last night. Opening my eyes to the night sky and the tops of trees turning my head I find I'm alone next to a small campfire and a skinned rabbit roasting over it. I sit up slowly as I look around, my dress is wrinkled, dirt coats most of it and my skin even though I'm laying on a blanket. A pack sits close to me and I realize it's my own, my feet aren't tired so I crawl over to the pack and open it with some difficulty fumbling with the ropes around my wrists. An extra shirt sits on top of my boots and my knife still tucked into them. Confused I leave the pack alone and look at the other pack across from me on the other side of the fire. I stand up and open it fumbling a little with the buckle and find only knives and more rope.
I grab a large knife when I hear a twig snap behind me and turn towards the sound. The carver stands there with sticks in his arms. "You drugged me, you bastard!" I yell swinging the knife at him. He laughs as I begin to cut the rope from my wrists so I can stab him.
"How else would I get you here? You wiggle too much when you're alive." He drops the sticks beside the fire.
"I'm still alive when drugged, you're going mad Carver." He smiles at me and walks closer, the ropes are still holding together. Before I can stop him he yanks the knife out of my hands and cuts the binds in one motion.
"I've been mad since we met, you just never noticed." I take the ruined ropes from my wrists and rub the raw skin there.
"Why the ropes if I was drugged?" I cross my arms over my chest watching him put a few sticks in the fire and turn the rabbit roasting more of its flesh.
"Because if you came back while I was around you would have stabbed me, or worse punched me." Rolling my eyes I do punch him, just his shoulder. He looks at me sadly.
"What?" I ask glaring at him.
"Nothing I just saw the last time you would do that." Confusion pushes at my still pounding temple.
"Trust me that wont be the last time, especially if you don't take me home right now." He laughs and stands up towering over me quiet easily.
"You don't make demands, I'm taking you somewhere important that will change history itself." He brushes a chunk of hair off my cheek and my skin goes cold under his touch.
"History doesn't change, people do." I duck under his hand and go back to my own pack deciding to change out of my dress as the corset has gotten too constricting. I pull open the laces not bothering to care if I'm half naked in the woods. My feet are already bare, guess I lost my sisters heels, pulling on my boots first I lace them up tightly then slip on the thin tunic finding comfort in the soft fabric which obviously isn't mine; it stops just above my knees and hangs loosely from my body. "Is this yours?" I ask turning to the carver and pulling the fabric away from my body between my fingers.
He looks up then nods and goes back to building the fire and roasting the rabbit. I sigh and sit beside him at the fire. "I remember your blue dress." He says softly poking the flames with a stick.
"What blue dress?" I push the tip of a stick into the fire burning it through then putting out the flame in the soft dirt before he answers me.
"I don't know, but it's always blue when I see you last."
"Then I just won't wear a blue dress and you'll never know when you'll see me last." He smiles and nods.
"I like not knowing that."
"Me too."