Young Writers Society

Chapter 22

When we get back to the castle, there is practically an ambush. A gathering of courtiers greets us at the gates, but they only stare and whisper as Lady Vanessa and Lord Niall are taken to their rooms. My guards fall in behind me as I walk to the queen’s chambers, but I hold up a hand at the door, and they step back. The guards open the doors for me, and I stride in, dripping water and blood onto the carpets. My mother rises with a start, but I don’t wait for her to say anything before sitting down in a plush chair. Captain Fenthclann has somehow already made it here, thankfully, so I raise a weary eyebrow.

“I’m tired, and cold, and the day’s barely started. Could I please just tell you what happened and discuss it later?” I rub my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. The captain bows his head, and my mother only gives me a stiff, suspicious nod. I plunge into the story, starting with Lady Vanessa’s leg and ending with Lord Niall and I re-emerging. By the time I’m done, I’m shivering, despite the crackling fire. One of my mother’s ladies-in-waiting drapes a cloak across my shoulders, and I realise belatedly that mine is still lying on the riverbank in the midde of the woods.

When I’m finished, both the queen nods, and reaches for my elbow. “Very well, but you had better get to your rooms and rest now.” She wraps a cold hand around my arm, and escorts me to the door. I don’t resist, glad to leave her rooms.

I start to head back towards my rooms, but when I pass the healer’s hall, there is a slight commotion, so I stop and go in. Lady Vanessa is sobbing, her blond curls streaked with dirt and blood, and Lord Niall sits by her, in dry, clean clothes, with his head wrapped and what looks like a cup of mulled wine. One of Muirinn’s assistants works feverishly on Vanessa, while another adjusts her broken leg. I stand and watch for a time, and nobody notices me in the organized chaos. Finally, when her leg is wrapped, and she is helped into bed, I approach them.

Laying a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, I say softly, “A speedy recovery to you, Lady Vanessa.” She smiles faintly at me, and I step back to let her rest.

Lord Niall nods to me. “And how are you feeling, your highness?” He frowns at my wet clothing, but refrains from saying anything.

I stand up straighter. “Well enough, my lord. You seem to be doing better. Did the healers say anything?”

He takes a long sip of the mulled wine. “Nothing’s wrong with me, your highness,” he says bluntly. “I am in perfect health.”

I go to sit down in the chair opposite from him, but stop when I realise that I’m still mostly wet. “And your head?”

He touches the bandage lightly, as if checking that it’s still there. “Just a little cut. Nothing too deep. They say it should heal in a few days.”

I nod deeply. “I’ll let you rest then. My well wishes to you.” Niall starts to get up to bow, but I wave him down, and turn aside.

A healer stands nearby, looking at me expectantly, but I wave him off. “Tell Muirinn to some to my chambers. Convey my apologies to her for interrupting her work.” He nods, and scurries off. Taking a deep breath, I leave the healers’ hall, and make my way back to my rooms.

When I finally step inside, my ladies hurry to me, chattering at the same time. Rubbing my eyes, I shake my head when they try to help me out of my wet things. Instead, I instruct them to send for some food and to find a scullery maid to build up the fire. I leave them in my sitting room and lock myself away from their endless gossip. A knock sounds at the door, and I groan.

“My lady? It’s Serafine. May I enter?” She doesn’t sound scared, just worried, and when I open the door, she looks over me. “Your highness, you should take a hot bath and get into some warm clothes.”

“I will. Instruct the other ladies that Muirinn should be here soon, and then come back.” I nod reassuringly at her, and with a curtsey, she goes to do as I asked. When she returns, I’ve thrown my wet clothes into a corner and dragged on my dressing gown. “Serafine, would you have someone draw me a hot bath? And when Muirinn comes, don’t let anyone in except her.”

She frowns. “A hot bath has already been drawn for you, your highness, but what happened? Why can’t anyone see you?”

I sigh. “You’ll see.” I stomp into the bathing room, the scent of lavender and roses filling my nose as soon as I open the door. “Thank you, Serafine. I won’t need your assistance any further.”

I close and lock the door before letting the dressing gown drop to the floor. Stepping out of the silk, I avoid looking at the mirror, and sink into the bath. A wave of exhaustion hits me, and I hug my knees to my chest. Lindon? Silent tears run down my face as I try to block out the reality of my life, and that I’ve been trapped in this impossible situation with no escape in sight. Lindon’s reply comes almost immediately. Ria? Are you alright? What happened with Blathen? I cry harder at that, rocking back and forth slowly while I decide what to say. Lin? Can you send messages to Arianna and Alexander? And Captain Fenthclann. Tell them that we’re meeting tonight at- at the clocktower. Tell Arianna to bring Drian. Lindon doesn’t reply, and I sob as quietly as I can. Lin? Please. Another moment passes, and then he says, Of course. And then, after a moment, Should I pay you a visit? Your messages are sent. I smile through my tears at that. Yes.

I stare at the milky water in front of me. When I touch a numb finger to the water, little waves spread out. I let my hand sink to the bottom and let the tears fall into the steaming water. A rose petal floats nearby, and when I rise, it sticks to my skin. I pull it off, revealing a dark bruise underneath, and drop it into the bath, wrapping a towel around myself. I dry myself off and start to pull the dressing gown on, but stop, and force myself to look at my reflection. There are dark circles beneath my eyes, and my face is gaunt, the skin stretched tight. The cut on my chin and cheekbone look ghastly against my too-pale skin. As my gaze continues down, a yellowish bruise in the shape of a man’s hand meets my gaze. Darker bruises from today are spattered all down my legs and torso, but the most noticeable is another bruise shaped like an arm. The memory of Blathen’s arm curled against my waist flashes through my mind, and a wave of nausea makes me look away. I look back again, though, noticing the deep cut along my side that I haven’t felt until now. It’s stopped bleeding, but it looks like it should be wrapped, at the very least.

I wrap my dressing gown around myself and take a deep breath, trying to still my pounding heart. When I feel calmer, I unlock the door and step out. A clean nightgown is laid out for me, still warm from being pressed. I slip them on and find a clean dressing gown that is thicker than the one I have and hides my bruises better. Tossing the other into a heap in my closet, I sit down on my bed.

The door opens, and Serafine steps in, bearing a tray heaped with a loaf of soft, sweet bread, berries, and cheese. A cup of mulled wine accompanies the food, and a message from the cook giving me her best wishes. I tear into the bread, suddenly ravenous. My side hurts when I breathe, and a pounding has started in the back of my head by the time I’m done cramming the sweet berries in my mouth. I gulp the wine down and call for more before letting myself slump into the abundance of pillows I have. Finding a particularly fluffy one, I clutch it to my chest and avoid Serafine’s searching gaze as tears of exhaustion and frustration well up in my eyes. Blinking rapidly, I ask her to go see if Muirinn has arrived yet, though I know full well she hasn’t. The moment she’s out of the door, I blink, letting the hot tears spill onto my cheeks and wiping them away carefully.

Thankfully, Serafine doesn’t come back in until Muirinn does arrive, and I concentrate on taking deep breaths as I watch them walk through the door. Muirinn looks even more exhausted than the last time I saw her, and although I feel a pang of guilt for an instant, I push it away and remind myself that this was necessary.

“Muirinn, thank you for coming. You look exhausted.” I bow my head, hoping my eyes communicate my apology. “Serafine, would you please leave us? And lock the door before you go, please.”

Muirinn studies me, her sharp eyes, flicking between Serafine and me. I let her come to her own conclusions for the time being, knowing that she’ll soon understand the need for secrecy. “Your highness, it an honour to serve you.” She bows her head to me and begins to set down the various pouches and jars she carries.

Serafine steps out softly, the door locking with a click as she shuts it. I sit up in the bed. “I- ah- I was injured today, when there-“

Muirinn cuts me off, saying, “Yes, your highness, I know.” Her steady hands unwrap some dried leaf and she powders it up between her fingers before adding it to a bluish liquid. “I’ve heard about it, busy as I’ve been.” Pulling a chair closer, she sits in it, and shakes the tiny glass jar. Her soft voice drops even softer as she says, “Why did you ask for me, your highness? I assume any wounds you have were small enough they could have been taken care of by one of my many assisstants, seeing as you don’t seem to be fainting or bleeding out from anywhere.”

I force myself to look at her, feeling every moment as though I’m drowning in the deep green pools of her eyes. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I say, “Muirinn, can you keep a secret? For me? A big one. No one could know, not my mother, not the other healers- no one.” I bite my lip anxiously, forcibly stopping myself from babbling on.

Muirinn lays a cool hand on my knee. “Your highness, I would do anything for you.” Her glossy red hair falls forward, out of the severe bun she’s drawn it up in, and she tucks it behind her ear.

Tears well up in my eyes again, and one of them trickles down my cheek. “Then, Muirinn, I’m afraid I’ve been hurt before this afternoon.”

She looks at me with some alarm, probably because I haven’t cried in front of her since I was a child. I push the covers off of me, and slowly unwrap the cords of my dressing gown with shaking fingers. As I draw it off of me, I don’t dare meet her eyes, but her gasp tells me that she’s seen the finger-bruises on my arms and the handprint on my wrist.

“Who did this to you, your highness? How did this happen?” Her voice is filled with true alarm, and surprise, and when she says, “How long has this been going on?” her voice breaks.

Just then, a firm knock sounds at the bedchamber door, and Lindon says in my mind, It’s me, let me in, Ria. I can feel you’re unhappy. Not bothering to put on the dressing gown again, I pad to the door and unlock it, glad to stall explaining to Muirinn but knowing it’ll be harder with both of them here.