It was Elaxai who bandaged her after every battle, a tall beautiful Elvi, with blond hair reaching her knees. She always kept it tied in a braid, tangling flowers and herbs into her strands.
"You were careful this time, your highness," she said, wiping the crusted blood on the wound. Atarah flinched, and bit her lips. She had stopped the blood from flowing with the bandage, but after showering, the wound must've opened again. "He stabbed me." Elaxai smiled, and her pupils changed colors..
"I'm glad my pain makes you happy." Atarah grabbed the bedsheets when Elaxai placed her palm on the wound, and a rush of heat followed it. She was using magic.
"Oh no, your highness, I just assumed your meeting went well with Prince Dragomir." the girls exchanged a silent conversation to which Elaxai got the answer to. The Elvi removed her palm and got up, "All done. Get some sleep, you need to be present at the meeting tomorrow." Elaxai lit up some honey-scented candles in her room and left, closing the door behind her, giving Atarah the peace and privacy she wished for.
^^^^^^^^^^
It was past midnight when Astara came in quietly. She sat on the steps of the circular balcony, and stared at the full moon. The candles had burned out a while ago, and Atarah was sound asleep, her left leg sticking out from the blanket, and her arm above her head. Astara smiled, looking at the person she promised to protect. The girl has a long way to go, she thought, and quietly walked towards the big cushion. The wolf sniffed the air and sat down, lying her head on the softness of the cushion. She closed her eyes, joining her master in the dream.
Atarah's eyes flew open when she heard tapping on her balcony, her eyebrows creased as she squinted to make out the darkroom. Rubbing her head, she got up and placed her hand on the marbled desk. The lamp turned on, illuminating enough to see everything. There was another tap. Atarah looked towards the balcony, the long glass doors were locked from inside, she glanced at Astara who was snoring lightly, her head away from the balcony.
Atarah unlocked the door and was not shocked to see the person standing in front of her, his face hidden under the hood. "It's 4 am." she said, pointing at the moon hidden behind the clouds. The prince stepped inside, dusting his black robe and taking it off. "I said midnight." Atarah folded her arms.
"Sorry, i lost time counting the dead." Dragomir replied. Walking towards the sofa set and getting comfortable.
"Here." Atarah threw a brown patch on his lap, intending to harm the prince but Dragomir had fast reflexes.
"Did you count them?" he asked, checking the contents inside. Atarah raised her eyebrow at him, silently saying: how dare you question my math? But dragomir didn't believe her. He still spilled out the diamonds on the marble table. The big chunks of diamonds twinkled like stars against the black surface.
Atarah took her seat opposite him and watched as he counted the rocks. She remembered their first encounter 5 years ago. It was the king's 55th birthday and a grand ball was held to honor his excellency. Everyone from the neighbouring kingdom was invited, including Antares. The politics were set aside for one dayas the Royalties greeted eachother in their expensive dresses and drank rare wines.
Dragomir was dressed like a prince, dancing in perfect harmony with all the young ladies. Atarah was trying to read everyone's body language. It was her homework fro the day, to identify each person's unique attributes. What do they bring to the table? Why did they accept the invitation? Who are they looking to please? Little did she know that the little princess was getting set up by the King to marry the third son of King Othello. Atarah covered her smile with her hand. She didn't want a marriage, so they made a contract: Atarah would provide him 25 diamonds on the first of every month if he succeeds in advising his father for not marrying away his brother to Atarah. Which he did.
It was silly of them, two 16 year old's acting like adults. Defying their fates, venturing out on thier own.
"How was your day?" Dragomir interrupted her thoughts. Atarah blinked twice, trying to remember his question, and then got annoyed.
"You stabbed me." she said pointing to her shoulder.
"You would have done the same." Dragomir shrugged and got up, putting on his robe.
"Until next time, your highness." he smiled from the shadows of his hood.
Before the prince could exit the palace, the bell on the clock tower rang five times. It wasn't the sound that brought goosebumps on Atarah's body, but what it represented. Her heart tightened up,
"Run. now." she whispered at Dragomir and pushed him out onto the balcony.
"What is it?" he asked, holding on to the ropes and placing hi feet on the railing.
"Just go." Atarah wanted him out of the kingdom as fast as possible. She kept looking back at the doors of her room.
She turned around and found her balcony empty. Good, Atarah sighed internally, praying he makes it to the borders on time.
This was bad. The sentence was stuck in her mind. She couldn't think past it. Before she could do anything, the doors burst open, and two soldiers ran inside, rifles ready in their hands. Behind them was the head court lady, Margert. Her cheeks stained, and her nightgown was hastily put on.
"Your highness." she grabbed Atarah's hands.
"Yes?" she could only whisper, she didn't know why she asked when she knew the answer. Margaret looked up, her old eys speaking for themselves.
"The king is dead."