Someone is pushing a glass of water to my lips. My thirsty tongue wants my mouth to open and accept the water, but I resist. It could be poison.
I open my eyes and push the cup away. I clatters to the floor, spilling in a long even stream.
“Sorry.” A male voice announces.
I look up in panic. He is holding onto me. I am trapped in his grasp, my limbs rubber in their fight to get away. I contemplate using my magic, but I realize I am running on empty. But still I struggle, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp. If I could get away and call for help...
He releases me and sets me down gently on the bench, then hastily moves away.
I meet his deep blue eyes and recognition blazes through me. Kellan.
“Sorry,” I whisper, embarrassed.
“No! It's okay, I should have... but then you collapsed, so I didn't know what to... are you all right?”
I stare down at my hands and observe the slightly bleached out colour of my dragon ring. I have been draining too much from my rings, and not relying enough on my own strength. My powers have become weaker without use.
“I'm just tired,” I sigh.
Kellan sits down next to me and offers out another glass of water. I sip at it carefully.
“I've never seen anyone heal that quickly before. It was impressive. Thank you.”
“Let's not forget that I'm the one that put you in that state. Healing you was the least I could do.”
“Is that what your job is?” He asks. “Healing the Dukes family?”
“No. They don't trust me to...” I trail off, and we both know what I was going to say. I'm just a southern barbaric magic user. A slave.
“Well, I think you have a promising future in medicine.”
I laugh with mirth. “Don't be silly. I don't have a future, period.”
He winces. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be callous.”
I get up from the bench and move away from him, picking up the spilt cup and placing it in the sink for someone to wash.
“You're not from around here, are you?”
“Me and Fran, my cousin, are from the west kingdom by the sea. We don't have slaves there.”
I don't want to talk to him about slavery anymore. It's one of the things that grates on my ears. Worse then the people who beat and torture me for having magic, are the people who pity me.
I turn back to Kellan and observe him. His shirt is still open and covered with blood. His hands are clean, so I assume he washed them. But some of the blood has gotten in his dirty-blond hair, and has started to dry. He can't go back to the party looking like this.
“We should get you cleaned up,” I suggest. “Your cousin will be wondering where you are.”
I move forward and gently touch his white shirt, pulling it away from the rest of his body.
He clears his throat. “I tried to wash out the stains but... I could just fasten up my jacket over top of them?”
I shake my head. “Your jacket is covered with stains also.”
I run the fabric through my fingers. I've never cleaned clothes before with magic. I don't know what the best word to use is. I stick with Lehara, the word for all fixing.
Under my fingers the shirt begins to glow a yellow colour. The stains disappear with a hiss, as if they are being burned off. I clean off his entire shirt and jacket before moving on to his hair.
“You have amazing powers. I wasn't joking before, Mila. You could be a great doctor.”
I try to concentrate on cleaning his hair. It is the first time he has said my name. But he doesn't pronounce it the way Kieran did when he introduced us. Or the way that Darrie does. He pronounces it Meil-a. The proper way.
I try not to think about why he would know that proper pronunciation.
“I wanted to be one once, before...” Before my capture. “In the south there were always tribe wars going on. That's why the northerners call us barbarians. So the healer was always the most important person in a tribe.”
“We have some healers in the west, but not very many, and nowhere near your skill level.”
“Is that how you knew to pronounce my name?”
“Huh?”
“Mila, it's a southerner nick-name. You pronounced it right. Is is because there are other southerners living free in the west?”
“We have quite a few. Mila... you could come back with us. They would have room for you to work in our hospitals.”
I let go of his hair and turn away. “Well, I can't go.” My hand goes to my neck unconsciously. I run my finger up and down, over my vine tattoo.
“I could ask Duke Gerric to release you to me, as a gift of goodwill. He's trying to make an alliance with our kingdom.”
“He would cut off your head for suggesting such a thing.” I say.
“Then run away.”
“I can't.”
He tries to put his hand on my arm but I flinch away. “Mila.”
“I can't,” I yell. He pulls his hand away as if it were burnt and begins to button up his shirt. “I can't,” I repeat, quieter.
“I should go now.” He begins to stand up.
“No! Wait, I didn't get all the blood out of your hair.”
I push him back onto the bench and finish getting the rest of the blood out of the back of his hair. I use my fingers and some magic, since my handkerchief is still soaked through with blood. It's tedious since my rings keep getting tangled, but I don't take them off.
My movements wake Limma up. She crawls off of my hand and runs up my arm, faster than I can try to catch her. She scurries until she is standing on Kellan's nose. I almost laugh as he goes crossed eyed looking at her.
I try to scoop her up, but she evades me and runs along his head, hiding in his hair.
“What is that thing?”
“It's Limma. She usually doesn't like to lose contact with me. I don't know why she's taken such a liking to you.”
I try to make a grab for her, but she shoots out of my reach, running down the back of Kellan's shirt.
A smile comes to my face, until I hear a cough from the doorway. I look up and see Kieran and Fran. They are standing staring at us in front of an apologetic Darrie.
“I tried to stop them,” she mouths to me.
“Is this how it is?” Kieran asks with anger in his voice.
I look back at Kellan and myself. His shirt is still partially open, his hair mussed. I am sitting half on his lap from trying to catch Limma. My cheeks are still flushed from fainting.
“It's not what it looks like,” Kellan say quietly. He stands up and helps to steady me.
Limma chooses that moment to climb down Kellan's arm and onto my shoulder. I grab her before she can run away again and put her back on her ring, blowing on her gently to make her fall asleep.
“I thought I told you to get rid of that creature,” Kieran says. He steps up to me and grabs my upper arm, hard enough to leave bruises. “Mila, my father does not like it when you defy him.” I let a small sound escape when he squeezes harder.
Kellan moves forwards and pushes Kieran off of me. “Hey, don't hurt her. She didn't do anything wrong.”
Kieran backs away, more because he is surprised, then because he actually feels bad.
“Don't get involved with this. I'll be the judge of if she was misbehaving.”
Kellans face goes cold and angry. “She isn't some object. She's a person.”
“You're not from here, so you don't understand. Leave now before I decide not to be so forgiving.”
Kieran grabs me again and starts to pull me out of the room, being intentionally rough. I trip and stumble into the door frame of the kitchen. Fran's eyes meet mine. She has her back up against the wall, her eyes wide.
“Don't touch her like that,” Kellan says.
I watch in fear as Kierans eye glaze over with anger and he turns to Kellan. I see his hand pull back as he prepares for a punch.
“Stop!” I yell, trying to shield him with my body.
Kieran turns to stare at me. “Did you just talk? Did I give you permission to talk?”
I shrink into my body, hiding my face in my hair. Kieran lets go of my arm and steps away from me.
“Guards! Guards come here!” He yells.
Rough hands grab me and drag me up the stairs. I hear Kellan and Darrie yelling objections behind me. I am pulled into the great hall. The music jilts then stops as we enter. I am carried up to the dais, then the guards through me down on the stairs.
I look up to see Gerric grinning down at me.
“Been talking again, Mila?” He stands up and comes down so he can place his hand under my chin and make me stare up at him. “Tsk, tsk. I though we just renewed your chains.” He runs his fingertips over my tattoo. “Oh, well. I guess we'll just have to teach you a lasting lesson then. You don't need both your feet to do magic, do you?”
I shrink into the floor. Gerric has been threatening to cut off one of my legs for awhile now. But I had been trying to stay out of attention and follow the rules recently.
Behind me I hear the guests mumbles as the guards bring forward a chopping block and an axe. They grab me and roughly shove me to the ground, one of them digging in my ballgown for my ankle. He grabs it and places it on the block. I don't even attempt to struggle. Lying in my back in the hall, I stare up at the ceiling. It is carved in with charms and magic, some that I have done. Spells to keep an earthquake from falling it, or the rain from leaking in.
I hear an angry shout in the crowd as the guard lifts his axe up.
“STOP! What the hell are you doing!?” I turn my head to see Kellan fighting his way to the front of the crowd. The guard pauses and turns to face him.
Fran follows in Kellans wake and yells out to him. “Stop, don't do it!”
I watch with horror as Kellan tries to grab the axe from the guard. He elbows the guard in the stomach, loosening his grip. The other guard goes for him, his axe ready in his hands.
The crowd watches on vapidly, not making a move to intervene.
I try to sit up and help Kellan, but Gerric grabs me by the throat and pulls me to my feet. He holds a knife to my throat.
“Got yourself a young hero, did you? Don't say anything or I'll carve your tongue out.”
I stop struggling, frozen in horror as I watch Kellan face off with the guard. He manages to disarm him, then turns to me triumphantly. His face changes as he notices the knife at my throat.
Then in one quick motion the first guard gets up again, grabbing his axe from the ground. I can only scream a short high wounded sound as the axe is stabbed in to Kellan's back.
Blood flows.
People scream.
My legs collapse.
I watch as the light leaves his eyes.
In the moment, I am forgotten. I take advatage of it as I run, stumbling at first, but then my legs get stronger. I don't slow down until I make it to the balcony, and I don't stop moving my legs until I am over the edge.
Then my body relaxes as the air fights against my dress. My arms trail.
I thought I was safe in that castle. I was, but no one else was too. My fate, it seemed, was to watch anyone who tried to help me die. I don't want that fate anymore.
Impact.