Royals and Deviants

Chapter 7

The next day came and went. As did the next. The hours creaked by impossibly slow, so slowly each minute seemed frozen in place. The only way I could tell whole days were passing was because someone would come, seemingly in the afternoon, to slide me a meal. If you could call it that. The tepid water and stiff bread pieces are not what my stomach was used to. It's revolting and the blandness of it all hits my stomach hard, but I eat it all the same.

I could tell that I was dropping weight. I felt even smaller in my already baggy clothing. They hung awkwardly off my slender frame. I decide to keep my hat on my head, despite not feeling the biting chill from the outside. I knew it didn't matter, but it comforted me, nonetheless. It seemed to agitate them more when it was visible. My keepers. The fae creatures that bought my food made it a point to ignore me. It was always someone different. They always bore the same permanent frown on their face when they came near me.

I tried not to stare at their perfectly unmarred skin, their delicately long ears whenever they appeared. Most of them wore bright clothing, layers of icy lavender and scarlet reds fitting their nimble bodies. While their clothing was functional, it was also exquisite and graceful in a way. The intensity of the vivid colors highlighted their sterling eyes. My dresses from home were reminiscent of the intricated designs I could see woven into their fabrics. But the colors often chose for me in Hellwater were typically darker, harsher. Unforgiving colors. The queen had her specific tastes.

They never spoke or so much as looked me in the eye. I always uttered a "thank you," which gauged no response. They just left the food and quickly retreated up the stairs. I desperately wanted to ask them what was going to happen to me. But I knew it didn't matter if I asked or not. I didn't even want to know what their answer would be.

The silence was deafening. At home, the Catcana was always within earshot. Silence didn't exist in my world. If I wasn't being bombarded with lessons and tutors, my reprieve was my room. And once inside, it was always filled with sounds of the churning water below my open window. I had become so used to it, that I hardly noticed it anymore.

But here, the only sound was me. My pacing feet. My shallow breathing. Occasionally I thought I could hear faint scurrying within the walls. I tried not to guess what was behind the sounds.

My mind would drift back to Port Landis. I thought about Thea. I hoped and prayed that she was all right. I wondered if Gordon and his men were searching for me. An unpleasant thought occurred to me. What if Gordon was a part of it? Did he know? My thoughts drifted back to that last night at the castle. He had seemed like himself that night. Poking fun of me like always. I refused to think that he had a sinister plot hidden behind his jesting.

Besides, I wasn't sure if being found at this point would be a blessing or a curse. I didn't want to be this prisoner, but I certainly didn't want to be dragged back to her.

Sometimes I would try to sleep. But the dreams would find me every time I drift off. They are sometimes the same, and at times different. But each one feels so real - visceral- as if I am reliving a moment that's been etched into my mind. Sometimes I am standing at the edge of the sea, watching monsters rise from the waves. Their massive snake-like bodies thrash in the water, their slick scales reflecting the sunlight.

Widow Serpents. It's almost as if they are dancing to a siren song that I cannot hear. They are horrendous, but my feet won't move, and my body doesn't turn away from the sight of them. Then they are gone, writhing and disappearing underneath the dark waves.

Other times I am back in the forest. It is quiet. Peaceful. I'm not being chased, being stolen. And the woods have changed. It's no longer eerily silent and dead. It is vibrant and lush. The canopy is overshadowed by dogwood and magnolia, with rays of light bursting through its heavy crown. Thick vines, covered in hued flowers, droop from the lower branches. A collection of sprouts and mushrooms dominate the rich grounds below. A medley of beastly sounds reverberates through the air, forming a chaotic orchestra within the thicket.