The Empty Ones (Fantasy Romance)

51. Not as planned

His voice, slippery like silk, was sounding in my ears for quite a while, all the time while I was descending the narrow steps by the sea and while I was walking on the dimly lit paths in the city.

It wasn't even my favorite poem but it was the first time when someone whispered poetry to me.

Lysander made me like him effortlessly which hasn't happened with many people in my life; with nobody since I reached this cursed place to be honest.

They are spies. They cannot be anything else. At the same time, they are officially envoys of their country and heirs to the respective structure of power.

I am very stupid. Maybe I should just stay away from them. They probably looked at me and figured I am the weakest link here, and that's why they tried to be friendly, to get close to me so they could get an easy entry provided by a lonely and dumb princess.

I was stupid and too trusting. Again.

Mortified, I walk faster, and the cobblestones of the city streets start sounding under my feet.

It wasn't planned for me to go into the city tonight, but I wanted to put distance between me and the source of my apprehension and have something else occupying my mind.

Some days ago, I discovered a rather new map of Miayatma in the library. That helped me realise that the secret door was bringing you to a district called Orchids Mound. The book also stated that the fifth Emperor of the realm really liked orchids and wanted to visit the garden in the city as often as possible, without anybody knowing.

That statement makes me believe orchids might be a metaphor, but then agai,n there was that place called House of Orchids and that girl Sharee was also carrying one, probably to sell as did some other girls I saw around there.

But the idea is that I still haven't seen much of the city.

The quarter of the Orchids is enclosed by the sea and several channels, but there are apparently only two bridges in and out of it.

I always used only one, The Bridge of Ma, that leads to the outer palace gates. The other leads to the inner city.

I am feeling ambitious and disturbed enough to take that one tonight. But first, I take the known road and try to find the shed with the sick children. This time around, it's easier to find.

There is no answer to my knocks. I wait, because it's late at night and people don't just answer to such knocks, but even after the fifth time, there wasn't any answer.

They should have woken up, but there is still nothing. I listen carefully. There are noises inside, children crying.

"Ma, wake up. There is someone here," says one of them. "Mama. Mama, wake up." Then the voice becomes more desperate. "Mama!"

"Child, open the door," I whisper.

I look through the cracks of the wooden door. The bigger boy is walking towards the door. He isn't yellow anymore! Or at least less yellow, for how much I can see in the torch light.

The middle child trails after him, also not yellow anymore.

"It's the lady," says the smaller child. It was indeed the most aware one when I met their mother. "Maybe she can help Ma."

The older child swallows and then gets on his toes to unlock the door.

I prepare to ask where their mother is, but the answer unfolds before me. She is lying half on the dirty cot, half on the floor, clutching her younger child. She is breathing very heavily, is drenched in sweat and looks extremely yellow.