HERA
When I was younger and in the days before it happened, my mom would always tell me.
"Someday Hera, that fast moving, pretty mouth of yours is going to get you into real trouble."
She had been right.
I had the scars on my back to prove it.
What she hadn't factored in was that when you're me, you can get in real trouble a great deal more than once and that on some days; you wouldn't even need your mouth to help move things along.
Today is one of those days, but even I don't know that yet.
I watch him ride out the palace grounds.
Certain any moment now, he would turn around and come back to lock me somewhere where all my plans would be ruined.
But he doesn't look back.
Maybe the gods are finally on my side for once.
Even though I was unconscious when I first landed here, I can tell from my vantage point and how it overlooks the rest of the kingdom that the dragon castle sits ominous and tall on very high rocky hills the color of ash and shadow. A little beyond the rocky terrain surrounding the castle, with a backdrop of emerald hills of grass stretching out into the grey horizon is the dragon's capital.
With their stone arches, tall spires and squat brick buildings, tiny puffs of smoke floating from their chimneys and I find myself wondering what a summer morning in the dragon realm is like.
But going there isn't even an option.
A lone human girl, walking around in the dragon's capital, it would not only be dangerous but stupid as well. Besides, he would find me too easily there.
And my attention is drawn to the dense canopy of trees along the right border of the bustling city, separated from it by a ribbon of water that glistens with a strange shimmering purple color in the sunlight. It would have to do.
I steel myself and take a minute to calm my nerves, listening hard for any sign of movement; a whisper, a sneeze, maybe even a shuffle of feet, anything to tell me if there's actually someone outside my door. Nothing.
Is it possible he somehow forgot to actually post a guard?
No.
I smash my hopes to the ground before they can find their footing and wrap their tendrils around my pounding heart. Hoping was a luxury I couldn't allow but the thought persists.
He wouldn't be that careless... would he?
He had all but rushed out of here, an urgent matter he said.
Maybe he had been too preoccupied to remember the slave girl masquerading as his wife
Gods above let it be so.
At this point, you all owe me.
I step across the wide center rug, my feet sinking into the plush softness of whatever poor animal had died to decorate the King's chambers.
Pressing my ear against the door doesn't help either. It's almost as if the room is sound proof.
Or maybe there's nobody there.
My mouth is dry and when I lick my lips in nervousness, it tastes like him which does not help.
Okay Hera, what the worst that could happen. Just do it.
So I pull the door open.
Or at least I try to.
It doesn't budge.
"No... No....No." I whisper furiously tugging and pulling, ratting the knob with all my might. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks and I bite my lips hard to stop them. He must have locked it.
I swallow the scream of frustration rising in my throat.
Okay think Hera think. Did you hear keys rattling in the locks?
But it's hard to think when you're on the verge of tears so instead I close my eyes.
When my family first died, there were nights I would wake up on the brink of a panic attack certain the people who killed them had somehow found out they missed us and were even at that very moment, on their way to correct their oversight. My throat would close so tightly I would be unable to breathe and the edges of my vision would turn grey seconds before tears rolled down my eyes.
There was only one thing that would drive the grey away, calming me down until my lungs could finally get air.
It is that one thing I do right now.
I breathe in and out with deliberate care, forcing my heart to slow its rhythm and recall the last time I had felt absolutely, perfectly safe.
No, that can't be right...
I try again, shutting my eyes tighter in an effort to concentrate but the imaged burned in my brain is the same.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
But it works and my heart begins to slow, my body remembering the warmth of being cradled in his strong toned arms.
Of my head resting in the nook of his neck as he carried me out of the darkness of the cellars and into the light
I disagree with that. I tell my mind. I disagree very strongly.
But it worked did it not? My mind retorts and I decide to ignore it.
Now isn't the time.
Besides, being stuck here must be affecting me more that I thought, once I find a way out I'll be normal again.
I look at the door one more time.
Now that I am no longer nearing hysteria, I can think clearly and my mind is telling me No, I had definitely not heard the sounds of keys in the lock when he left.
Although with the rubbish she was churning out a few seconds before I am not sure I trust her very much at the moment.
Just try the blasted door Hera and how about you turn the knob this time, instead of just pulling eh?
So with one more deep breath for courage, I try the door again.
The knob turns smoothly in my hand, the hinges creaking gently as the door swings open.
My joy lasts approximately one second.
The Ryder is there, barring my way before I can even blink, moving with unearthly speed and silence and my heart falls to my feet.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to.
I close the door as quietly as I opened it.
What had I been expecting, he had said he would post a guard and I am fast coming to the realization that when the dragon king says something, all the realms would freeze over before he went back on it.
I sink to the floor, back against the foot of the large ornate canopy bed and when a knock sounds on the door a while later, I bid them entry in a quiet defeated voice.
The door opens and a row of maids come in lead by a tall, severe looking woman with grey hair, parted in a shiny white line down the middle and tightly packed in a bun at the nape of her neck.
Her long black dress with its buttons running all the way to her neck reminds me of the governess who used to mind my siblings and me in the days before we lost everything.
I blink rapidly, more than a little lost for words.
He said 'a maid' would be coming, he didn't mention anything about a train.
The maids all have their hands full and as I watch they arrange themselves in a line in front of the bed, with the older looking woman closest to the door and as if in response to a cue only they can hear, they all curtsy low. It's almost overwhelming and I standing slowly to my feet unsure of what to do besides gape stupidly.
Gosh they must think I'm slow or retarded
When I say nothing, the woman clears her throat stiffly. "May we, your grace?"
May you what?
The Princess of Averia would know and right now I am her, at least to everyone else so rather than ask that and accidently reveal my true identity, I start to nod then catch myself at the last minute. "Of course...y...you may"
I see the way she's looking at me, her barely concealed disapproval at my cuts and bruises, my bare feet and scanty tunic shirt.
She's discreet about it, saying nothing but I can only imagine the thoughts running through her head about Averia's so called princess.
I can't imagine they are very flattering.
They move in busy flurries of motion, I don't even know where to look. There are questions flying left and right but I pretend not to hear them.
Clothes, Jewels and boxes overflowing with shiny pretty things I don't even recognize being folded and arranged in the drawers around the room. Someone drags a cart of food in behind her.
She uncovers the food with a bow, sending smells up in the air, assailing my nose and suddenly reminding me of how hungry I actually am. While I eat, they begin filling my bath with steaming hot water, stirring in scented oils and flower petals.
Then just as orderly as they entered, they file out leaving just one girl behind.
She is a little taller than I am, most dragon folk are but her diminutive posture and unassuming clothes make her appear smaller than she actually is.
She curtsies shyly "Your bath is drawn my queen. I shall set out your clothes while you take it."
The way she looks everywhere but directly at me reminds me of...me
"What's your name?"
She looks up, surprised someone so important was actually referring to her. "Henette, my queen. I am to be your personal maid."
"Well thank you very much Henette"
She flusters and curtsies again, unsure how to respond but I can see the relief in her eyes. "...Thank...I mean, you're welcome your grace."
I undress behind the elaborate room screen blocking the view of the bath from the rest of the room.
At first, the heat of the water stings my wounds but soon, I find myself closing my eyes against my wishes, the horror of the past two days washing away in a haze of jasmine and lavender. "Would her highness prefer silk or velvet?"
I mumble an answer but I don't really care.
My mind is elsewhere. The seedlings of an idea are beginning to form in the back of my brain, like tiny little bean sprouts, pushing through soft dark soil to reveal little green leaves of hope. Henette helps me dress in the unfamiliar clothes of royalty.
The dress, an iridescent midnight blue velvet with a scoop neckline and baroque embroidery in silver is so beautiful it takes my nearly takes my breath away.
But then she ties the black corset with the same silver embroidery around my waist and that actually does take my breath away. Literally
I sit, hand in my lap, in front of the tall mirror resting at the top of the armoire while she does my hair, braiding it with blood red rubies and dark sapphires to match the blue of my gown and when she finishes I can barely recognize myself. I look exquisitely breathtaking.
I feel like an imposter.
Tears brim to the surface and I sniff them back, not wanting her to see. "You may go Henette."
As she leaves, bowing low and closing the doors behind her, only one thought is in my mind, growing bigger and bigger until it chokes out everything else.
I can't stay here any longer, doomed forever to keep up with this pretence and be something... someone I am not
Maybe it is irrational, maybe it isn't.
But I need to get out of here.
And I know exactly how.