Merlot's Eyes

Chapter Five

The field was littered with bodies, weapons and destruction. Red, gray and black were the new colors of what used to be a beautiful grassy meadow, which was now the stage of a devastating war. The air which was normally filled with the sounds of wind, swaying grass and insects was now heavy and thick with the scent of entrails and smoke.
I stepped over bodies and dismembered limbs, looking into lifeless eyes, searching their surroundings for mercy, and into faces frozen with fear, waiting for a sunrise that would never come.
The battle was disastrous. Two parties fighting for a difference in beliefs and betrayal of their leaders. The wounded lay in heaps to be long forgotten and claimed by the earth. Ghosts of the former soldiers went on with low morale and high determination. Some succumbed to panic and burst out into tears and screams whilst others fought merely for the sake of survival.
I stood alone amongst the moaning, looking up at the red sky and turning my face as rain became a downpour over the battlefield. Clouds began to block out the crimson sky, the rain becoming nails from the heavens.
Hairs stood up on the back of my neck and I turned. There, amidst the blood and gore, stood a man with wings as large as a phoenix's, a barbed tail curling around his waist and being held by darkly taloned hands. Horns were atop his head, curled and fierce. I knew what he was. Everyone knew what he was. He was a wraith; a soulless creature who only felt hatred and despair, yet was capable of ruining worlds.
"Look at what you have done, Merlot," the wraith spoke, walking closer to me. "Look at what your selfishness has brought. Your lack of empathy for strangers is now naught but names in your book of victims... slaughtered to protect something they did not know existed. Suffering for the sake of an unknown cause."
I was unfamiliar of what he spoke of. I wanted to turn and run, but my feet were swallowed up by the hands of the dead.
"You do not know when to stop," continued the wraith, getting closer. "How much blood is to be shed before you have over what is most dear."
"And what is that?" I spat. Though I knew exactly what it was.
"Your eyes."
—

I sat upright in bed, gasping for air, clutching at my neck and wriggling my legs to ensure my feet were still intact. Breathing shallowly, I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Opening them, I saw the inside of my quarters, the small fireplace twinkling with orange flames. I then remembered where I was. Heartland Castle. Safe... safe.
There was a sudden knock at my door, causing me to jump. "Come in," I said hoarsely, bundling my comforters up to my chest. I was wearing nothing but a thin, white nightgown—courtesy of the tailors.
The door opened and a tall figure walked in. Too tall to be Nilou.
"Merlot?"
It was Dren.
"Your Highness—" I scrambled to find proper clothing, but I couldn't get dressed without getting up. Drat.
"No, no," Dren said softly as he saw me shift, "stay put."
"I'm indecent..."
"And I'm in trousers," he laughed, and I just then noticed he was half naked. Inside my room. I had a naked king inside my room. "I heard you making a fuss and thought I would come check on you."
"Is that not Nilou's job?"
"It's no one's job to make sure you're okay. Nilou could care less if you awake screaming bloody murder. I came of my own free will."
Swallowing, I watched him carefully as he came to the opposite side of the bed and sat on it. With a short flick of his wrist, he lit aflame the candelabra on my nightstand. The short show of power made me want to cower in his presence. He wanted me to know he wasn't a fool as his sister made him out to be.
"Just a bad dream," I said, inhaling deeply. "I'm fine."
"What was it about?" he asked.
"War." I paused and looked up at him.
Dren's face furrowed. "Did we win?" He winked. I fought the playful urge to shove his shoulder and laughed instead. "No, Your Highness. No one won. It was nothing but a bloodbath."
"Good thing you're not a seer," he quipped. "If you were, we would have a bit of a problem on our hands."
I chuckled nervously and hugged the blankets to myself. "I'm quite all right, Dren. You should go back to bed... Don't you have a busy day tomorrow?"
"It already is the morrow."
I saw it was pitch dark outside the small window next to the armoire. "The city still sleeps, sir. I'm fine, I promise."
"Are you uncomfortable with me in here."
"Just a bit."
Dren stood swiftly and tucked in a deep bow. "Apologies, csitri. I will bid you good morrow, then." He turned to leave and my eyes wandered. His back was a plain of muscle and deep scars and swirling tattoos. With each step he took, his shoulders flexed, letting me see that one shoulder was higher than the other. An old injury, perhaps? Nonetheless, human or not, he was quite the wonder to behold. Before my eyes could travel down his mid-back, he turned around and I shot my gaze up to his golden eyes. "You'll call upon me if you need anything, yes?"
"I'll call upon Nilou if I need anything..." I said uneasily. Dren and his intense caring made me uncomfortable. No one had ever cared for me like he did, and I didn't know how to feel about it. "Thank you for checking on me," I added, wanting him to know that I appreciated his care nonetheless.
"Anytime."
Dren closed the door lightly behind him, and as soon as he left, the candelabra extinguished. Leaving me in my large, dark room. Alone, once again.

—

The morning started heavy and strong and as busy as ever. I shoved away my feelings from last night and focused on meeting my staff and getting used to the kitchens. The baking space was humongous. In my bakery, I only had two ovens, yet the castle's kitchen came with four ovens, all stocked with coal and ready to light and use.
The servants and staff were welcoming, all excited to try my goods. I felt, special for the first time in a long time. I felt like I was useful. And maybe that was my past and trauma talking, but being able to be useful made me feel validated.
Every ingredient I could imagine was stockpiled in the kitchens. They had designated coolers and boxes and storage for everything. Instead of keeping cold ingredients outside to stay cool, there was a large chamber with an airtight door, made to be able to store even the coldest of foods. Even leftovers or large quantities of goods to save for later.
I made course after course, keeping my mind busy and my hands busier.
Corriander cobbler with watercress tarte tatin was left over from lunch. I plated myself some of the leftovers and took a seat in the servant's dining hall. It wasn't near as grand as the king's dining hall. It was simple and plain with a table that sat up to twenty servants at once. Most of the staff praised me for my abilities, chowing down on the leftovers as if they hadn't eaten in days. Eating my own food was something that definitely brought me comfort. Especially knowing I wouldn't try to poison myself.
I hadn't seen or heard anything from King Dren or Princess Lex in hours and I was starting to worry. Then remembered what he had said about the meeting the Three Rulers would have. Maybe meetings such as that took an entire day to do. I shook myself many times during the day, hating how I worried about the king. What he did last night was extremely inappropriate and I didn't know what to think of it. If I brought it up to him, he would most likely think I was a conniving, spoiled brat. But how was I spoiled if I worked for my place in the world? If anything, Dren was the spoiled one.
"What are you doing?" I said to myself, flattening my hands on the dough I would use for the night's snow mint and berry rolls. I had eaten lunch rather quickly and was ready to continue for the night's courses. Was I hating on the king or trying to justify his actions? I then realized that I was justifying the uncalled visit. Things that my uncle had done to me had left me unable to realize when something was too far, and if it was, I tried to excuse the person. What bullshit that was. It made me furious to think about it.
I punched the dough, folding mint leaves into it and occasionally splashing flavorful berry juices into it. Soon the dough turned a purplish color. Purple like the bruises that used to coat my arms, face and thighs.
No, stop! Stop, stop, stop. Don't think about that. I can't—
"Head chef?" one of the nymph bakers said, tapping my shoulder with a gloved hand. I jerked. The nymphs were as silent as field mice. I could never hear them walk up. "What is it?"
"King Dren requires your presence immediately."
My heart fell to my toes. "Where?"
"He's in his chambers."
Passing off the dough to the baker, I wiped my hands on the apron and removed it, hanging it on a hook near the door. I didn't know what to expect, but I couldn't assume he was anything like Uncle Azzaro. Just to make sure, I stowed a butter knife in the band of my pants and began to make my way to the royals' hall.