I woke up hot and sweaty. Nightmares taunted my dreams. Dreams of being sold, abused, picked at, poked, prided, examined, and every other incredibly violating act I'd endured in the last few days.
I sat up in bed and observed my surroundings.
The room smelled of palo santo and pine. I could sense that the King had been in here recently. I was slightly tucked in.I threw the blankets off of myself in a fit of rage. I wanted him nowhere near me. Not even in scent. Especially because of how that scent comforted and caressed me. It soothed the anger and I didn't want that right now.
I pulled the curtains open and reared back in slight shock at the moonlight that flooded through. I never realized but there was a gorgeous courtyard below the King's massive windows. It seemed to be stories down, but I could make out a wide gravel path that went around the castle. There was an expanse of pristine green grass that went out for miles in front of me. Bushes with white roses laid scattered evenly throughout.
There was the occasional bench and fountain. These fountains were nothing like the ones at the estate where I was sold. These were beautiful, and they shone white in the moonlight.
I had such a strong desire to plant my feet in the grass.
I could make out a thick and tall cobblestone wall, a few miles in the distance. I could see it through a few breaks in the trees that lined the courtyard. There was also a body of water to the left in the distance. Trees and greenery framed it, and there was a long gravel trail going that direction. The water was black but the moon shone on it, leaving white lines on the ripples.
I decided then that I was going out there. I looked down through the glass and could see a white trellis covered in thriving green vines and the occasional white bloom.
I searched the windows for some kind of closure. I needed fresh air. I needed out. I paused and took a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. I needed to stay calm. Since there was some magical bond between the King and I, I didn't want to alarm him with my sudden panic.
My fingers finally hit metal that was on the inner wall of the wooden window pane. I clicked the lock slowly, unlocking the window and pushed it open. Warm, sweet air rushed in and rustled my hair. It smelled of honey and spring. It was so utterly quiet. It was pure peace.
I felt no fear at the thought of being out there in the moonlight alone.
I inched my toes out onto the windowsill and held on tight. I turned around and slowly lowered myself onto the trellis. I was very careful to avoid any greenery, as I did not want to disturb it. I climbed and climbed until my arms were sore. I tried my best not to look down, because the one time I did, I felt nauseous. I felt like I climbed for at least 10 minutes until my bare feet hit gravel.
I saw it and was relieved and looked up, realizing I could barely make out the window because of the distance. I was breathing heavily with my hands on my hips. I was proud of myself though.
I turned and crossed the gravel, and winced at the sharp coolness. My feet hit the grass. It was surreal. I could not remember the last time I was barefoot in the grass. It had to have been when I was a little girl. I was working from such a young age that I lost most of my childhood.
The grass was dry and I adored it. I walked until I found myself in front of one of the several rose bushes. They were huge. They seemed to be in full bloom, and in the moonlight, they glowed a bright white. I reached my hand out and took some petals in between the pads of my fingers.
I leaned in and inhaled deeply. So deeply it felt as though the essence of rose was embedded in my veins. I reached my hand out and wrapped my fingers around a long stem and pulled. I took it. I picked it. It was mine.
I removed it from its happy place, from its home. All for my own selfish gain. Just like King Augustus and Simon had done. Like I was nothing but a pretty flower.
I walked with my flower. I talked to my flower about everything from the weather, to my broken heart. We talked for hours as I explored the courtyard.
It reminded me that I had my own pretty flower. That I had lost.
YOU ARE READING
WARHAVEN
FantasyHis irises swirled slowly, an enticing pale silver against his stark black lashes. They illuminated slightly, so quick it was gone in a blink. He broke our eye contact, lifting his head straight. A darkly amused expression appeared. It happened so q...