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For a breath, he was there, not gone at all; and he had found some way to get me out.
Then, the room exploded in a bang, the door to his room slamming open and light flooding the space. I flinched and gasped at the noise as my father did, the powerful ruler that had sired me, had loved me, sagged against the wall with a whimper.
“What do you think you are doing in here?” Her voice cut through me, instantly severing any warmth that was trying to heal my heart.
Dalyah stood in the doorframe, the light from behind turning her into a shadow; like a wraith that haunts dreams. I shivered at the icy cold that followed her as I stood to face her, to face all that rage and malice as ice dripped from her fingers and fell to the floor in shards so sharp I was sure they would cut through my shoes.
“What are you–” she began, still raging, and then she stilled, her head bobbing as she took in my dress, my hair; all of it.
I had been so focused on whatever mess I had walked into that I had actually forgotten all the work I put into my look today. I stood slowly, all of that silk and satin unfolding in a pillow of blue. I could have sworn she smiled. As she stepped into the dark, however, all I could see was that wicked smirk that sliced over her face, the twisted rage in her eyes. It was the same furious look that she always gave me.
A phantom pain lanced right through me at that look, at the realization that she would never look at me another way.
For some foolish reason, I thought she would be proud of me and everything would be solved. But she looked at me as she always did.
Because nothing would ever change, and standing in this mess in yet another prison inside of the Runturin, it was only going to get worse.
“Why are you dressed like that?” She sneered, the same icy tone cutting over the dark and sending Father shivering. “That dress… it’s a mess,” she scoffed, her ladies tittering from somewhere behind her. “Well, at least it matches your hair.”
My fists clenched at my sides, that little part of me that wanted her approval extinguishing. I wanted to rage and yell and scream as I had so many other times, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. Not this time.
I pushed that pain away, pushed the hope of a life with my family and a place in the Runturin and everything away and lifted my chin, staring right at the powerful Queen.
“Where is Uncle Jahn?” I asked, nodding to the vacant hollow of the Catalyst space.
“That is a royal matter.”
‘And I am the princess.’ I wanted to say it, but I let the words die on my tongue as I forced a smile and instead said “I came to show Father and Uncle Jahn my dress.”
I swooshed it, keeping my smile in place. I knew she would see right through me. I never acted like this, I never dressed like this, and this smile was one I never gave her. But I kept up the facade, for Batian, for my father, for all of it; even as something clicked and hardened inside of me.
All of this, this game I had been playing for ten years, the prison I had been trapped in, it was never going to change. Because even if Batian was king, she would still be there.
“Where is he? Father says he is sick.”
“He is.” She answered a little too quickly for that to be believable. I swallowed the answer.
“Oh, well I guess I will try another time.” I stepped forward, the Boy close on my heels as I moved to make my way past her; still trying to be ladylike while also getting the hell out of there.
I almost made it. She watched every step I made, only stopping me when I was flush with her, her hand like ice against my chest.
It had been years since I was this close to my mother, she always stood over me, framed by her throne and all her ridiculous dresses. But standing there, next to me, she didn’t make me feel as small. She wasn’t even a head taller than me, her features angular and cross as she peered at me with eyes as hard as the ice she wielded.
She was a horror; a powerful queen that clearly wanted to be feared.
I just smiled at her.
“I don’t want to see you here again, girl.” She looked from me to the Boy, her threat clear for both of us. My heart dropped another foot and I swallowed, trying to force the rock in my throat away.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I forced a small curtsy before her hand dropped, the feel of ice still lingering on my chest as I strode away, the ladies in waiting gossiping behind fans as I walked by, head held high.
I didn’t even bother to cough.
Chapter 8
Elara
My hair had long since come loose from the monstrosity I had tied it up in. Now the long curls danced in the wind, rippling around my face as I sat on my perch on the edge of the high wall, legs dangling over the side; the skirt of my dress speckled with dark purple stains of the smudges of the blueberries I had stolen from the kitchen on my way up there.
