The Princess and the Blood of Eternity

Chapter 8: Nightmares on the Wind

Lilith woke up lying on a sleeping-pallet inside a wooden cabin. Night had fallen, and in the distance, the wind and waves hummed with the sound of life. It filled her senses with the unfamiliar smell of the salty beach air, the kind that surprised her with their sharp taste.

Missing were the usual amenities: silk sheets, goose-down pillows, heavy comforter, and the enormous bed. Instead, the room came equipped with a draft—a kind of humidity that cut through her blanket like the loom had used nothing but air.

In contrast, her room in the palace was never cold, not when it came equipped with a six-foot tall fireplace that sat at the foot of her bed with an army of servants ready to attend to her every need. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, anything she could want was available to her twenty-four hours a day.

Eyeing the wooden walls and floor, she couldn't help but marvel at the look and comfort of the increasingly rare material. The cozy sensibility that made her imagine a home. Though, the sense was foreign since she'd lived nowhere but the palace. Many years ago, her mother had ordered the repurposing of all nonessential wood throughout the city. Many had fought against the order, refusing and oftentimes resulting in a stay in the dungeon for attempting to dodge orders.

She'd only been a child at the time, but the stories and outcry had wailed across the city for days. Lilith recalled how the decision had stood out as a defining moment for the city. Like the loss of the forests, the people lived on borrowed time. Ultimately, without a reliable source of wood, the city had been forced to search for alternative sources to meet the demands of the shipyards as a necessity in order to bring in food.

Laying on her back allowed her mind to clear away the haziness. Lilith remembered the pirate attack, meeting Cleo, and the unplanned stop at a strange island. She remembered everything except how she'd arrived in the cabin.

The door on the far wall had a brass rounded-handle, and next to her sat a dwindling candle in an iron dish shaped like a shallow gravy boat. The subtle light illuminated the room in a warm flickering, orange glow as wind poured through the cabin's cracks, creating a faint whistle as each gust threatened to extinguish the tiny flame. Lilith's throat tightened, imagining the light going out. She did not want to be left in the dark. The idea absolutely horrified her.

Unfurnished, the wooden structure was reassuringly simple. The word she'd heard her servants use had been "cabin." She liked the way it rolled off the tongue. Simple, two syllables, and sturdy, like Cleo.

Her bedroom back home might equal at least ten of these cabins, and that failed to include the parlor, private dining area, bathroom, and closet. Oddly, contrary to the inherit foreignness, she found the small space to be putting her mind at ease, contradicting everything she'd learned about being a princess.

Tudors in the palace had drilled the idea that appearances matter. Above all else, belief over substance. The people needed a forceful leader. Hide the pain, hide the hesitation, hide the defeat—and keep up a brave face. And yet lying there with Cassandra and Boulder nearby, she could drift back to sleep without a second thought. Except for this feeling of...

... Pain echoed from her elbow down to the tips of her fingers. Turning her arm over, she inspected the white cloth wrapped around her forearm. She tapped the wad of bandage and pain answered, shooting up and down her arm like the flame of a torch held against the skin.

"What happened?" The sensation was like an ice bath to her memory. The beach. She remembered sneaking up on Cleo followed by him slashing her arm. A knife! The one he'd tossed in the ocean.

The fact she'd forgotten was strange indeed. She tried to sit up and was met with resistance.

"Easy princess," Cassandra said hoarsely.