Elora Van Eck | Kaz Brekker

SIXTEEN | THE PRINCESS IN A SEALED TOWER

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e l o r a

  THE PASTURE was verdant. The vast meadow's sprouting blades of grass licked at her ankles. A gentle breeze wafted through her garments. The birds were singing a lovely melody.

  Elora crouched, her delicate fingertips brushing the bed of daisies that encircled her. As a bee landed on one of the blossoms, a sweet smile kissed the girl's lips. What an enjoyable day, spent working, she thought. These tiny creatures relied on those working hard. Otherwise, they would perish. But Elora—She had never needed to lift a finger, had done so solely out of a sheer will.

  Now, the girl was languishing through stifling boredom. Assisting in the kitchen had been denied to her, as well as gardening. And there was not much else to do in this remote place.

  When the midday sun claimed the sky, she permitted herself to go for walks among the adjacent wildflower fields, keeping the house in view always. If the roaring thunderclouds came to visit, she would watch them from her window. Elora wished she could soak her dress and dance till her brown hair grew even darker and dripped down onto her feet. However, even this sliver of freedom was stripped away from her.

  "Out of question, young lady. Your muddled ideas will easily lead to your demise. And who must then justify the infection of your lungs? That's right, me." Elora's eyes had rolled into the depths of her sockets as a natural consequence of the Madame's remark. The woman was always complaining about anything and everything.

  Klara had been a pleasant change, but the blonde had been dismissed and sent abroad to care for her ailing mother. And that was not the first time this had occurred. Whenever Elora granted one of the servants even a faint smile, a spark of goodwill, they quickly were forced to leave her.

  Not the Madame.

  Elora went as far as to ponder whether the Madame was being deliberately obnoxious. That she liked Elora enough to be afraid of having to part with her too. That this was the sole reason she would roll about in poisons every morning, spewing them into Elora's face all day. But even then, Elora would detest the woman. The Madame did not seem to have one spark of benevolence blazing within her.

  Elora forced herself onto her feet again. Her gaze was riveted to nothing more than grass and flowers... and a person.

  In the distance, a figure trekked through the grassland.

  Elora squinted slightly, attempting to make out something, but the person was so far off that they appeared as minuscule as an ant. She had not seen a soul since being taken to this place (except, of course, for the servants of the house.) Consequently, her curiosity got the best of her.

  Elora lifted her foot to move a step toward mankind, but a hand on her shoulder yanked her back. "You need to get back to the house immediately." The Madame spoke sternly as she dragged Elora back to the building. The girl did not object, rather tripped after her, enshrouded in defeat.

  Elora's brows drew together as she was dragged into the house by the Madame's harsh grip. It was firmer than usual. She was shoved up the stairs and into her bedroom. The Madame followed and shut the door behind her.

  Elora seated on her mattress, observing the Madame stagger towards the curtains, and yanking them closed to block the view.

  As she stormed across the room, the Madame seemed troubled. She picked up a dress off the floor, reached for the empty tray that had originally held Elora's breakfast, and walked out the door. The woman reappeared some few minutes later. Entering the room unannounced, she rushed for the window anew. She brushed the light fabric aside discreetly so she could peek outside.