Spoiler! :
Prologue:
His wife and sixteen year old daughter lay at his feet, and his sword soaked in blood, sat heavily in his hand. What happened? What have I done? Their accusing eyes stared at him, glaring through their tangled hair. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. No. No; this isn’t right! A scream escaped his lungs, and echoed around him, as if bouncing off the trees. His slaughtered family, almost unrecognizable, reached out to him with their unmoving bodies. Slowly, he raised his sword to his heart, holding it so that it cuts the palms of his hands, and lunged it towards his chest. I’m sorry…
Chapter One:
The colours fuse together in my mind. Never settling or taking one shade, but seeming to linger at a crimson sunset, or fluttering like a butterfly with wings of fire. I reach for my brush, stale and rigid from years of use, and retrieve it from the musky cup of water by my paints.
I stare at the blank canvas before me then close my eyes, hoping somehow, the answers I’ve been searching for will materialize on the back of my eyelids. But of course, they never do. Instead, the same rich colors cloud my thoughts, and I wait silently as the blur of golden red takes shape. I see a woman with fair hair, wearing a satin dress and gloves. I concentrate harder, only to realize it is blood, soaking her body and hands. I shake the thought from my head. But I knew what was coming next.
My eyes flash open to find the same women, covered in blood, painted upon the once white canvas. Tears roll down my cheeks as I watch the poor woman I have painted suffer. I lift the dreadful artwork from the easel where it sat, and hastily push it under my bed where my mother won’t see it. A knock at the door distracts me. I steady myself and go to the door to meet Claudia, my cousin.
***
Walking towards the palace gardens alongside Claudia calms my mind, and any pictures that may appear in my head have vanished. As we walk, the small dwellings we pass begin to change into upper-class cottages and homes; decorated with vines and colourful paint.
“So Miss Vivian, what do you think about my Ryan?” she asks, reminding me of her latest conquest. Claudia has been quite a hit with the young men lately, mainly because of her newly granted freedom from her father. I guess they like her soft brown curls and cheerful personality.
“Ryan? He’s the tall one right?” She nods, eager to hear more. She's also great to mess with. “Oh he’s cute, really cute. Seems a bit old for a little fifteen year old like you though. Maybe I should take him off your hands? His beard really turns me on too.”
“Oh my god Vivian, you’re thinking of his father!” Our laughter erupts and I notice heads turn to find the source of noise.
“I am? Maybe I can be your stepmother!”
“That is so gross! Please don’t talk to me ever again,” she says seriously, trying to keep a straight face but failing.
“Don’t talk to your future step mother like that little girl!” I grin back at her. As we walk on, the first sign of the garden that hits us is the smell. Floral scents such as lavender and roses fill the air, with hints of different herbs and spices, citrus and tea tree, also lingering around.
“Hannah is amazing,” Claudia declares as she takes a deep breath in through her nose. Hannah, my mother, runs the palace gardens, and has a remarkable knowledge of plants. She is constantly making new herbal remedies, and is a great help to Claudia’s father, Uncle Rupert, as he is the royal physician. It was only last year that my mother was granted the responsibility of the gardens, and since then has transformed it into the most beautiful place in the kingdom. “Speak of the angel,” Claudia exclaims as my mother emerges from behind a fruit tree. “Good Morning Auntie Hannah!”
“Good morning Claudia. I see you have somehow lured my Vivian out of her room.” She looks at me with her sweet motherly glare, “could you please take a few things to Mr. Warwick for me Viv?”
“But he has an eye patch and it scares me.” Claudia’s giggles, but I can tell the look on my mother’s face means I don’t have a choice. “Fine, what is it?”
“Oh I nearly forgot to tell you! There is a banquet tonight celebrating the Royal Guards return. The messenger arrived late last night.”
“Uncle Henry is coming back?” Claudia asks, mirroring my joy about the news of my father’s homecoming.
“Yes and the supplies for Mr. Warwick will be needed as soon as they arrive. So chop chop sweetie!” she says handing me a heavy crate and nudging me away. So much for a ‘few’ supplies.
***
I struggle down the main village street alone. Claudia fled as soon as my mother gestured her to another grate, but not before she reminded me to be quick so we can pick her apparel for tonight. The beautiful smell of the gardens was gone now, masked with the scent of dust and horses. It was obvious the people were more rushed then normal for this midsummer morning. The banquet must have everyone worked up. Carriages and horses trample the street, and crowds of people gather around shops. Any who did not appear to be busy were swarmed by the poorer children trying to sell flowers and beads. Lucky my hands were full, because I find it hard to refuse their innocent faces.
I pass the tailors and see the pre-celebration scurry, taking note that I should probably figure out what I was going to wear. Most of my wardrobe is secondhand, with the exceptions of a few special dresses. One of those dresses was a gift from my father, which he bought when he was first raised to the rank of Royal Guard Captain. I have only worn it twice; maybe I should wear it tonight.
Amid my thoughts of clothes, I arrive at Mr. Warwick’s shop front. Mr. Warwick is an odd man, and often smells of smoke and bananas. He sells a range of things; from the herbal remedies my mother makes him, to miniature collectable eggs. “Miss Fay! Care for this delightful feather?” He inquires, darting in front of me from behind a shelf. I try not to stare at his dark, purple eye patch. “My, my, it goes with your hair! You must have it!”
“Umm, thank you Mr. Warwick,” I reply, putting down the crate to receive the gift. “My mother asked me to deliver this to you.”
“Oh your mother is so lovely. I say, if I was ten years younger Miss Fay!” He chuckles. “Why Miss Fay, have you met my Christian? Pleasant lad he is, arrived last week from his father’s place in the country side. You see, his mother was the friend of my father’s friend’s daughter. Small world isn’t Miss Fay!” Mr. Warwick rambles, including excessive hand gestures. “Christian, my boy! Come meet youthful Miss Fay!”
Sounds of footsteps arise from the backroom. As I wait, Mr. Warwick smiles keenly at me and keeps waving at people passing outside. I wonder if he was dropped as a baby, and I’m sure my face is giving my thoughts away but he doesn’t seem to care. The backdoor opens and young man steps out. His hair was not long but covered his left eye, and it was evident that he had been sleeping. Through his yawn the word; “huh”, manages to escape.
“Miss Fay meet Mr. Bailey. Mr. Bailey meet Miss Fay.” Mr. Warwick begins. “Oh and please try to get up before ten O’clock in the future. You never know when we may have such beautiful guests like Miss Fay here.” His over use of ‘Miss Fay’ was starting to get on my nerves, but that didn’t stop me from blushing at his comment. “Well I’m off! Must get these things your mother sent ready for your father’s men Miss Fay. Watch the shop for me my lad. I’ll be back around three!” And with two claps of his hands, Mr. Warwick picks up his crate and leaves onto the main street, our eyes following his back.
“Well,” Christian commences, turning back to me, “nice to meet you Miss Fay.”
“You too, and please just call me Vivian,” I reply, watching him move from the shadows at the back of the shop into the light, revealing the smirk that lay upon his face. “Or Viv, some people call me that too.”
“Ok Viv, and just call me Chris,” he adds in a cheeky tone. “Your father is the Guard Captain?” I nod. “So I can expect to see you at the homecoming banquet tonight?”
“You’re going?”
“Well believe it or not, but I didn’t just come here to spend time with my new roommate,” he replies, making me smile. “I’m actually Princess Elizabeth’s archery instructor.”
“Oh I heard she wanted to learn archery for her eighth birthday. So you’re good?” I inquire.
“I like to think so,” he says with a shrug, “What about you, any special talents?”
Visions of the blood soaked woman flash into my head. “Umm, no. Not really.”
“So what do you do all day? Carry crates for your mother?” he asks, putting on a traumatized expression. I laugh.
“Not at all! I spend most of days at the Picketson’s stables.” I reply, noticing his clueless nod, and adding; “Its east of the place grounds, and they breed most of the guard’s horses there. Its run by Bill and Mary Picketson, and they pay me to help out. It’s great; you’ll have to see it.”
“Maybe you can show me sometime?
“Of course.” Somehow I had gone from being forced into child labor, to be given a feather from a mad man, to flirting with a young gentleman, all before ten-thirty in the morning. I’m predicting today will be quite eventful; not to mention the banquet tonight. “Oh I’m sorry, but I forgot I have to meet my cousin!” I give an apologizing look, “but I should defiantly show you the stables.”
“That’s alright. Have a good day Miss Vivian,” he says bowing his head.
“You too Mr. Bailey.” I return a curtsey; a smile playing at my lips, and hurry out the door.
***
Spoiler! :
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