🫠So, fair warning, this is where the fearful thoughts of readers come into play. Not that I know any of your fears, but I do love stirring the pot. Hehe! I am a chaos author, enjoy! 💀
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I have been locked away in my rooms for three days, all alone expect for the healers who've bathed me and changed the dressing on my wounds, and the servants who dare not meet my gaze. They have a right to be scared, I certainly would be if I were them. Forced to be in the vicinity of a human who could kill them, made to taste any food brought to me under the eyes of the Queen's Guard.
But I have had no will to eat, any sight or smell of food has made my stomach turn. I've only managed to escape the push from others for me to eat, by the guards being outside the room after the first day, giving me the chance to tell the servants not to bother with tasting the food.
My wounds ache still and I know for certain the king has denied the healers to give me his blood. A punishment, a reminder, a physical show of his power over everyone in this castle. It is only on this, the fourth day of my confinement, I've been allowed one hour to be with my friends.
But only with the Princess Helena, the pale eyed Scythe, watching our every move, listening to our every word. If only she had words to hear. For almost the full she has been here, all she has seen is the faint movements of our hands when not doing our present tasks.
Aoulette, Celeste, and I have taken to sewing our Tenebrae robes with collected stones, forgotten beads, and mouse bones. Tanith has been allowed to join, though I know her to be still weary of Ezra, the timid werewolf currently has been kind in helping Ezra, Amira, and Ersa learn to read. The watchful eyes of the three following her finger below each word from a book of old wolf tales.
Each of them attentive, mouths slowly forming each word she has them sound out. Some attempts end in small fits of giggling, ones that in their own way seem to lighten the mood of this dire climate I have pulled us into. From this single meeting, I've only managed to learn as much as my fellow Marked knows of our friend's fate. Poor Orlan still languishes deep down in the castle's dungeon, still waiting to be shipped in chains to the Black Tower.
Nothing more by our hands can be done, all there is left for I and the others is to wait. Wondering and hoping that the call of help I've conjured will come. But for now, as the temple bells signal the noon hour, Tanith and my friends are escorted out by the Axe and the Hammer. Leaving me alone with only the Scythe for company.
I wish for none. I want none now that my family is not with me. With careful movements, I rise from the soft couch and walk with slow aching steps toward the windows of the sitting room. Down below I watch guards patrol through the dead gardens covered in a layer of cold frost and snow. More have been patrolling below the last few days, many daring to look up with fearful eyes to where I stand.
I don't understand why they should fear me now. I am a caged woman, hair limp and snarled, skin pale as death. Body bruised and healing, covered in not but a heavy nightdress and a dark shawl that feels like a shroud. The creaking of a chair draws my attention to the Scythe, her black and leather garments shifting as she stands. Her weapons glinting as she joins me at the window, golden hair flowing down her back. Free and wild.
"I understand your melancholy my queen," she begins, body relaxed and composed, hands resting on the handles of her daggers. "I too would hate to be treated as a pretty bird placed within a wire caged, guarded by the eyes of watchful hungry cats that have cause to be frightened of you."
She places one hand on the cold glass, her eyes tracking the marching guards with cold intent.
"But fear not, not all who dwell within the castle sees you as the monster many still talk of. I've heard from the maids chosen to taste your food, that when no guards are watching you spare them the risk of being poisoned. Telling the poor girls you have no appetite, and therefore have no need for them to taste the meal. It has earned you much respect, your highness."
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Forest of Lies
WerewolfA thousand years past, the world was run by humankind. But it changed, when countries became embroiled in a war that gave the werewolves the opportunity, to recreate the earth in their own image. Now humans are the lowest on the food chain, little m...
