Rowans Choice

Chapter Fourteen- The art of pretence

It had been a couple days since Rowans flip in character, and feeling as if I had myself been flipped from a boat and drowned before being brought back to life. Sycamore pushed open my second set of brand new chamber doors in as many days, without so much as a knock.

"Andromeda... good morning" he began, abnormally cheery.

"Is it" I ask, not even looking to him from the chair beside the window.

"Wow... you and Rowan are quite the depressing pair this morn"

"What do you want" I ask abruptly.

"Get to the point Sycamore" he chastised himself "right. The king awaits you in the drawing room"

I sit upright with surprise and look down to him accusingly "what does he want of me"

Sycamore rolls his eyes "you are sooo not fit for the Oak. When the King asks for you ... you don't ask why Andromeda ... you just take off at speed for wherever he has called you to"

"Fine" I give in. I stand and walk to my mirror. I run my hands down my long hair and tease it slightly to a more presentable chestnut mess. I hadn't had the need to look presentable in days, and since Rowan had thrown me away so casually two days ago I had been a snivelling state. I still wasn't sure where the tears came from or why, but come they did and away they did take me... to a place where I didn't ever want to revisit and to a love I had never wanted to let go.

"Follow me" he instructs.

As we enter the hallway the guards are in place beside me instantly, as instructed. I may be free of my iron bracelet but I wasn't free of the Oak.

I follow Sycamore to the lift, the guards lower the rope until we are facing the communal floor where the drawing room is located.

Sycamore steps out of the lift. I watch him walk ahead of me, wondering if I touched his hair if it would be as slick and slippery as it looked. He peeks back over his shoulder "don't even think about touching my hair" he warns.

I make a face of mock innocence. "Me?...why I would never"

"You forget, I've known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper" he says looking back briefly before marching onward.

"Not true... I've always been taller than you" I poke.

We come to the large doors of the drawing room. Sycamore doesn't knock which strikes me as odd if the king was indeed in residence. Had he not chastised me just this morning for my etiquette, or lack there of.

The door opens to the bright and airy drawing room. It's large and grand, every chair and settee has the golden trim that the royal family are known for. If you think of the Royals and the Oak... think bright white and twinkling gold. They wore it, the decorated in it and you would wonder if they even bathed in it, their skin almost twinkles as if they are made of it themselves.

The paintings that adorn the walls are portraits of the family going back generations. The one that takes my immediate attention is Queen Hazel, Rowans mother. It amazes me how similar they both are. My attention is stolen then by an overwhelming sensation of someone in my personal space. I look sideways and almost throw a fireball at her. A middle aged plump fairy with bosoms that could double up as a little tray for afternoon tea.

"Beautiful wasn't she" she muses, taking in the painting as I take in her. She has brown hair with a flash of white coming through her temple, it is curly, full and short.

"The name is Bell" she introduces, sticking out her hand with a broad smile.

I shake her hand politely "Andromeda" I offer.