A Crown of Clouds

Chapter 29

I flicked my wrist and closed the curtains, blocking out the intensity and heat of the Taratian sun that seared my sorry hungover eyes. Perhaps no one would come and fetch me today? I naively thought, maybe everyone was as ill as I. My head felt like a heavy melon on the pillow, one that could break open at any moment. I couldn't tell how long I'd had my head under the pillow, when a rapping of knuckles sounded on the door. I wanted to yell go away, all that came out was a groggy croak. The knock came again. I groaned, rolling over, head pulsing in my hands, "who is it?" I wished I'd cleared my throat before speaking. "It's Niall... Jaz sent me to fetch you for breakfast, you are apparently quite late."

It made my head hurt, even more, to think of how Tessanda would react if she knew who I was, rather than just an earthling visitor late for breakfast, where she clearly didn't want me but needed to keep an eye on me. She was orderly, I give her that... but she was cruel in the smallest of stabbing ways, like sending Niall to get me, her royals and Komana too precious to send for a menial task like waking up the good for nothing unqualified mechanic from Earth. "Give me a moment," I mumbled. I could hear Niall laughing under his breath when I winced, sitting up in bed. I chucked on the old black clothes Cretan had given me, so very different to what I'd worn last night, the one that felt like a dream, a hazy, groggy dream. I slapped some water on my face, patting my cheeks and gargling water. I found myself lingering in front of the mirror longer than normal, equally frustrated with the bags under my eyes as I was with the fact that I cared what I looked like. I promised myself I would smash that mirror in before I left, what was Tarata was doing to me? I shook it off. One more week in this place, then I was free... of sorts; if the plan worked. God I hoped it would work. If it didn't, I knew exactly where I'd end up, buried in the ground if mercy was shown.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the day ahead and putting my training into place. I'd become the version of Hal they thought I was. I opened the door, a rush of blood hitting my head and momentarily causing the world to fade into a dizzying blackness. I felt hands underneath my arms stopping me from crumbling to the floor in a heap. The same hands that held my last night, I recognised the callouses, hard-working, tough hands, "woah little lady, someone had too much to drink last night."

The world around me seemed pixelated before it came into clarity. I dared not look Niall in the eyes, although he surely could see and smell the stench on me. "Not that you don't look like an earthling queen milady," said Niall, clearing his voice nervously, but, I mean, would you like a little help before sitting for a morning feed with the royals?" He stuttered nervously. I met his nervous eyes this time. I'd have downright refused and sprayed a skunk on me to prove my point of how much I didn't care, were it not for Cole, besides, I'd do well to not draw any attention to myself for one more week. "What did you have in mind?" I grumbled, and half felt bad about it. "Nothing much, I don't have power like your royal friends, but I can give you just a little shower," he shrugged. The way he said it made me wonder if his shower would even work or if I'd be whizzed off to God knows where. "Oh and a handy little cure for the headache too, I'll pop that in the shower for ya." He winked as awkwardly as a farm boy could. I'd have cringed outwardly were it not for his kind and proud gesture to help with his minimal magic. I accepted it gratefully, feeling the water and the wind and relishing the coldness waking me up. Somehow, I smelt like a farm after the shower, perhaps it was my imagination.

Breakfast flew by, then lunch, then training, then dinner, then five days... the palace seemed to be filling more and more each day. Faces I'd never seen and voices I'd never heard. It was abuzz with the excitement of the wedding. I was abuzz inwardly with the prospect of seeing Riccadia if the plan worked, and possibly, meeting my father. Although that was the one thing I couldn't quite wrap my head around, imagining my father to be powerful like Cretan. It had been so many years that I only had a few memories of him. I'd made him out to be a down to Earth auto-mechanic, a simple guy with calloused, greasy hands and a romantic heart. Mother's stories were, in part, to blame for how I saw him. But I tried to not let my mind wander, deep down inside I didn't let myself hope. Cretan said he was alive, but I wouldn't pin my hopes on it, it had been so long, I couldn't bear the letdown of being an orphan a second time over.