The Heir of Red and White

Chapter Six: Aiyana

The first thing I noticed was the blood.

      It spilled out in all directions, soaking into the thick, carpeted floor as it painted a halo around her body. Duchess Marigold laid bare on her back, her eyes wide and vacant as she stared blankly at the ceiling. Her once almond-colored skin was ashen as if a coat of dust had settled over her flesh. Bloodied gems gleamed nefariously from her matted locks and a jagged gash marred the skin of her throat. Several deep lacerations formed a pattern along the curve of her breast, on the underside of her ribs, and around her wrists, as if she had been tied up and carved into like mere cattle.

    Blood, nearly black, outlined her mutilated body and grazed against the man who lay beside her.

     I couldn't recognize his face, but it was obvious he had been one of the duchess's Moderate lovers. He laid on his back, clothed in trousers, with angry red lines crisscrossed over his chest. His throat had also been slit, but he had not been mauled as the duchess had. His body had been wiped clean, his skin smooth and his eyes peacefully closed. Whoever had done this considered him a mere casualty. It was the duchess they had hated, and as my eyes raised to the wall above their heads, I realized that she wasn't their only target.

      A rose was painted in blood. Crimson dripped from the edge of the petals, colored white by the ivory walls and I froze before the image, my heart still in my chest.

The White Rosemen had returned.

        The maid who had found the bodies stood beside me, silent with her eyes wide. I was sure I had made a similar expression when I had sat beside my mother, drenched in blood on my bedroom floor. This was the kind of moment that would haunt her forever. She'd never be able to forget how still the duchess looked, or how cold. Just as I could never forget the look in my mother's eyes as she took her last breath.

       A strange blanket of calm settled over me, my thoughts quiet as I trained my eyes on the bloodied rose. I could vaguely register the sound of guards shouting, the cold gust of wind as it billowed from an open window, and the putrid stench wafting from the bodies beneath me, but everything seemed muted.

          "Princess, you shouldn't be here." A guard moved in front of me, partially shielding my view of the carnage. Her expression was somber as she gently reached for my arm, her palms warm on my skin. I looked down at her hand, surprised to see I had wrapped my arms around myself to stop from trembling. Something cool coated my cheeks, and after I lifted my fingers to my face, I realized it was wet with tears. Someone was speaking from behind the guard, but everything was muffled as if I were hearing everything through a thick cement wall.

     This was how it always began for me. Some of the time I could force myself to pretend the blood was just paint, or even ignore it if the wound was small enough. But I hadn't seen this much blood since my mother was killed, and my old fears quickly came back to haunt me.

     Duchess Azure arrived soon after with more guards in tow. She walked into the sea of blood with a look of disdain, completely devoid of sympathy. The Azures and the Marigolds had a long history of conflict and tension, but even such distaste didn't warrant the look in Duchess Azure's eyes. There was no remorse or sadness. Not even pity.

      "Get someone to clean this up!" she yelled before glancing in my direction. "And take the princess away! You know she can't handle this." I wanted to argue with her, tell her that I could handle it, and deny the rumors I knew would form once I left, but my words got trapped in my throat. And no matter how much I wished it weren't true. I knew she wasn't wrong. I couldn't handle the smell. Or the bodies. Or the blood. I couldn't handle anything, and I was mere seconds away from falling to the floor.