Abrial froze.
Her mother's voice was cold as ice. When she spoke again, it was even sharper.
"There is something we must inform you about. Chuanli, why don't you tell her about it?"
Abrial turned halfway around apprehensively.
"Ah, yes," her father said, a somewhat nervous smile crossing his face. He clumsily drew a handkerchief out of his red robe pocket and began wiping his forehead, which had already begun to sweat profusely. At last, he cleared his throat and announced timidly, as if it was something they'd talked about hundreds of times:
"In regards to your future marriage, you are to join the cohort of prospective wives for the Prince of Rotia."
"What?" The word spat itself from Abrial's lips. "I'm not going to do that!"
Her father placed his fork and knife down. He looked at Abrial's mother nervously, but was given no encouragement; so, his voice meek, he smiled at Abrial and said:
"It is what is best for you. You have the opportunity to become a Roatian queen with your beauty. Though the Roatians are of a different race from most Gongkuans, many more Gongkuans live in Roatia now. You will not be discriminated against. And…if you become queen, or even a consort, you will move to a position of power and comfort. It is the very best we can do for you, our daughter."
Abrial's vision flashed red. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her bandaged palms. Scarlet spots seeped into the cloth.
"I don't care about power and comfort," she spat, enraged. "I'm not marrying anyone. I'm not going."
"You will marry, and you will go," interjected her mother glacially. Finally, she was looking at Abrial. Her eyes were dark and stormy as the depths of the sea. "You will leave tomorrow at first light. Do you not want to get away from this house? We are giving you an opportunity to leave, as you so long to do. You had better take it."
Abrial's fists clenched tighter. The bandages grew wet. There was a burning, boiling ball of rage in her stomach, rising up to her chest like the roar of a dragon.
"You know I never want to marry someone. You know that's not what I want. And if you don't…it's because you don't know me." Her fingers glistened red. "And you're not hearing me. I said I'm not going."
"You are going," her mother repeated, this time with the force of a crashing wave, eyes glittering with shadows. "It is not your choice."
"I'M NOT GOING!" Abrial shouted. Her heart began to drum in her ears, distorting her furious voice. "I won't let you send me!"
"Han Abrial Chae-young." Her mother stood, placing her hands fiercely down on the table so hard that it shook. Dishes and utensils rattled. "You are going, and you are going tomorrow. That is the end of this argument!"
"I WILL NOT!" Abrial screamed. Blood rushed in her ears like a murderous wind. "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"
"Friedrick!" Her mother bellowed, voice echoing deafeningly in the hall. "Escort Abrial to her room. She is overexcited."
In an instant, the head inner house guard, a large Roatian man, was there, his arms wrapping around Abrial's shoulders and hauling her forcefully away. She might have still been screaming, but everything seemed to blur into flashes of light and disorienting bursts of sound and movement, and she was biting and scratching at the arms dragging her away, and her mother's face was a mask of fury getting smaller, and her heart was beating, drumming out of her chest and spattering blood on her insides, and everything was too loud and too painful and when she came to herself again she was lying on the ground in her room like a furious rag doll with the door locked from the outside.
She screamed. She screamed, and screamed. She pulled at the door for a long time, kicking and punching it. When it wouldn't open, she screamed in fury again and punched at the walls so hard that her hand burst straight through the straw-based surface, spurting blood on the paper.
She was so furious that she thought she could feel her heart burning inside of her chest like a molten fire, pulsating and sending fiery rage coursing through her veins. The more she thought about what her parents had said, the more angry she became, and the more intense the hot, burning sensation became. It got to the point that her vision was constantly tainted with redness, and her head began to feel light.
After pacing, kicking, and punching, Abrial sat down on the ground, exhausted.
What was she going to do? She would have to run. She hadn't planned to run away so soon or so suddenly, but it looked like she didn't have a choice if she didn't want to end up trapped in a disgusting situation her mother had decided for her.
She would have to figure something out before morning. But until then…
Abrial's eyelids were heavy. The burning sensation seemed to have seeped all of the energy out of her. It had even made her begin to sense things that weren't there — she thought she smelled a faint wisp of smoke as her consciousness faded more, and more.
Before morning, she would come up with a plan. A plan to get out of here, and take Finley with her.
But right now, she needed sleep. Just…a little sleep…and then, she could wake up in time to escape…
Abrial fell asleep sitting against the wall, burning hot tears dripping down her cheeks.