An Ember's Tale

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rosealinda

Rosealinda never liked to get her hands dirty: figuratively and literally. She much preferred hiring others to do those jobs for her, of course, at a reasonable price. She was fair, as she was dignified. Though, as Rosealinda descended the stairs down to the cold, dark, damp, and dirty dungeon, she knew that there was only one person she would get her hands dirty for.

A guard stopped her.

Rosealinda removed her blue hood that concealed her face. The guard's eyes widened immediately as he inhaled sharply. It was a type of terror that Rosealinda hated that was associated with her.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I didn't realize it was you-," the guard's voice trembled with fear.

"Don't let it happen again," Rosealinda said coldly. She hardly recognized her voice in that instance, but she had to keep up the facade that was forced on her from a young age.

She breathed in deeply and then continued her descent down the spiral staircase.

She soon reached the dungeon, which she found perfectly revolting. Rats scurried to hide while a cold chill came in from the open window. Rosealinda shivered, but not from the cold- just from this horrible place. Dim blue light streamed down from the window, providing minimal illumination, but Rosealinda didn't mind. She had been kept in the dark most of her life.

She kept going until she reached the very last cell. The prison was empty everywhere else since Akull rarely put prisoners in cells. They were either executed or forced into slavery. Akull always believed that prison was too easy, too merciful, no matter how horrible this dungeon was.

Rosealinda took a key from her pocket and unlocked the cell. The door opened with a loud creak. The only light came from the small window, which was too high up for anyone to reach- unless they were over nine feet.

"Who's there?" a voice called. The voice was recognizable but sounded so different from the last time she had heard it. The voice still made her heart flutter and her cheeks flush. A wide smile escaped and implanted itself on her lips.

"Tim?" Rosealinda whispered.

A figure, from the back of the cell, shakily stood up in the darkness. It took a moment for Rosealinda to adjust to the dim lighting, but once she did- Rosealinda gasped in horror. Timothy's left eye was completely swollen shut. He had bruises and cuts all over his body, bleeding, and some looked infected.

His lips and fingers were blue from the cold- and he looked too pale. Rosealinda had always loved Timothy's tan skin, but now he seemed starch white like the snow blowing outside.

Rosealinda pulled him into a tight embrace. He still smelt like the sea, thankfully: somewhat salty and mainly sweet. He was still her Timothy. She ran her fingers through his tangled hair.

"Rose," he breathed, embracing her back. "How did you get down here?" he seemed shocked but relieved at the same time.

"Shh," Rosealinda cooed as she pulled him closer. "I don't have much time, and I'm sure the guards are watching us."

She gently pushed him away but immediately missed the warmth he brought to her in this cold place. "Here," she held up a basket. "I brought you food."

Rosealinda then unclasped her cloak and put it around Timothy. She had picked it out especially for him since it matched his blue eyes. Timothy looked like he wanted to reject the cloak.

"I don't get cold, remember?" she said in a light-hearted tone. "Besides." She held his hand; that was colder than she was. "You're freezing."

Timothy smiled. "Not so much, now that you are here."

Rosealinda smiled too. She had always found Timothy's smile to be infectious. She could be in the worst mood, but Timothy's smile could always bring her happiness. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to hold him... but they didn't have much time, and she was sure her father would find her soon. She shuddered at the thought of what he would do to Timothy if he found her down here with him.

She unpacked the basket, which contained bread, meat, and water.

"I have to go now," Rosealinda said sadly.

Timothy reached for her hand, though, and pulled her to him. He then kissed her on the cheek, and for the first time in a long time, Rosealinda felt a warmth that she longed for more than anything.

She couldn't help the wide grin on her face once Timothy pulled away. "I'll come to see you tomorrow if I am able."

"Wait, Rose," Timothy said. He looked disheartened. "Do you know if... if Ember-"

Rosealinda sighed. "I'm sorry, Tim. My scouts haven't seen her on the Northern Island since you left. She is probably on her way here now."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Tim, she probably isn't with him-"

Timothy looked up, and in the cold, dark cell, his blue eyes shone with anger. "Then where is he?"

Rosealinda didn't know what to say- except for the wrong thing: "I have no idea."