The Ring Master's Fair

PART 12

The Ring Master's Fair - Part 12

"So you want to find out about what is in this book because of what you were before?"

Lark nodded weakly as an answer to Rylan's question.

"And the book has disappearing words... That's just cruel," he concluded as he shook his head.

She wanted to bang her head against the wall; but she knew that, sadly, it would only make things worse than they already were. So, she instead buried into a nearby satin pillow and screamed her heart out.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rylan asked. He slid next to her and took her small hand in his, rubbing his thumb against the palm of it in attempt to comfort her.

"No. No I'm not fine. These memories have never haunted me much before, but recently they have. Every time I close my eyes, now, I can hear the deafening crack of the whip, and I can feel my own cold blood running down my naked back." Lark's once steady breathing slowly became heavier. "I feel a terrible, horrible, lust for revenge. That feeling is what haunts me the most."

"Did Atticus happen to have anything to do with the sudden surfacing of these memories?" Rylan asked through clenched teeth.

She just shrugged, completely unsure of what to answer with. Lark had some memories surface when she was in the kitchen with Atticus; but she had also had some recurring dreams before that. "No," is what she eventually said.

Rylan sighed in defeat. To be honest, he was hoping that Atticus was the cause. Then he would have an excuse to keep her away from him.

This girl was different. She had resisted Atticus for so long, longer than any other girl. She gave him a chance to save her. And that was what he planned on doing.

He was soon interrupted by his thoughts when Lark said: "What are we going to do about this book, though?"

"Are there any more books on slavery? Or was that the only one?"

"I have read every single book in the library," Lark said thoughtfully. What book hadn't she read? Wait a minute... "The fourth floor! Ezra told me to never go up there, says it's too dangerous with falling beams or all that nonsense."

"To the fourth floor then?"

"Do I want to find about more about this issue on slavery being illegal? Yes. So to the fourth floor we must go."

As Rylan and Lark set out to the library, Lark noticed a shadow looming around the corner at the end of the hall. She just shook it off though, she was most likely just getting paranoid from the memories resurfacing. She knew that she was safe here in the palace, away from the whips, away from the fields, away from her previous owner.

Lark reassured herself once more as they pushed open the door to the library.

"Ezra?" Rylan called out as he glanced around.

There was nothing but an echo of silence in answer. Lark tapped Rylan on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow her. He nodded as she lead him up the spiral staircase until they got to the landing of the fourth floor.

What Ezra said was half way true. There were loose beams here and there, but nothing to dangerous.

The floor boards creaked as Lark and Rylan moved around, examining the half empty shelves with squinted eyes as this floor was barley lit.

While Rylan took a closer look at the books on the shelves, Lark moved towards the back of the floor, making sure to keep an eye on the ground so she didn't accidentally step on something sharp. A pile of pillows lay restlessly on the ground and a picture frame lay smashed next to them. Lark picked up the picture frame to examine it closer.

It was a rough sketch of a woman dressed in elaborate cloths of various designs. She had small, pouty lips and large doe eyes. Her hair was a wild mess, falling out what must have been a neat bun.

"Rylan?" Lark called still staring at the drawing.

A crash was heard and Rylan poked his head from around a shelf. "What did you find?" he asked as he tripped over random clutter to get to her.

"Just a drawing of a woman. Does she look familiar to you in any way?"

He stared at the photo for a while. Lark studied the way his facial features as his thoughts ran through his mind. His face went from confused with his thick eyebrows drawn together; to angry with a crease in his forehead; to sad with a pout splayed across his lips, similar to the one on the woman in the drawing.

"Jaqqueta," he muttered sadly.

"Jaqqueta?" she questioned, just as quiet.

"My mother, she died three years after I was born. I don't have many memories of her, but those I do have are happy ones."

"My mother died giving birth to me," Lark said, trying to show him that she understood.

"You never knew your mother, so it's not the same," Rylan said harshly.

Lark jumped back a bit, startled by his sudden change in attitude. "Okay, I'm sorry, maybe I don't understand," she said to try and calm him down.

He breathed in sharply and let out a whistle. "I'm sorry, Lark. I don't know what came over me."

Lark couldn't help but smile slightly at his apology. "It's fine. Let's just go and I can come back and look for a book later."

"No," Rylan shook his head. "Let's at least look for a little longer, I'm fine now."

She nodded and walked forward to examine what lay ahead.

There were a few more book shelfs, empty except for the occasional book, and another drawing, this time of a man who looked to be the current King.

Rylan touched the tapestry gently and his hand made and indent in the fabric. The two of them looked at each other confused.

Lark kneeled down and took off a pin that held one corner of the tapestry in place. When she looked behind it, she saw nothing but darkness.

"Rylan," she said. "It looks like a secret passage way.

Rylan helped take off the rest of the pins before they grabbed each other's hands, and stepped uneasily through the passageway.