The Ice Queen of Lessaenes (Book 5)

Beyond the Garden- 2

The picture is Saralee's older sister Keilee

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"Are you lost, little one?" Asked the emta man kindly. 

"Um...no. What makes you think that?" I said, trying my best to keep my voice even and sure. 

"You've been following me around like a puppy for the past hour," he laughed. 

My cheeks turned red with embarrassment. I didn't realize he'd noticed I was following him. 

"I just really liked your music," I smiled. "You're really good at the emta." 

"Oh, thank you," he beamed. "This is the first time anyone's complimented my playing since I left my home on Rhena." 

"You used to live on Rhena?" I asked, interested. "What was it like?" 

"Rhena is the most beautiful place you could imagine," he sighed. "I lived in a cozy little valley in the Arabella Province. There were waterfalls on each of the three mountains that surrounded it, and everything for miles and miles was covered in trees. In the fall, they'd all turn brilliant colors and I'd sit on the roof of our little cabin and gaze into the sunset beyond the mountainside. It was so perfect I wondered if it was even real." 

"That sounds amazing," I nodded. "I've lived in the city all my life. I've never seen anything like that," I looked down sadly. 

"You don't need to live in a scenic utopia to see beauty," he smiled warmly. "There's beauty everywhere. In the steam rising from a cup of fresh tea, in the minty goodness of a peppermint, in each one of us. We're all beautiful because we're alive!" He exclaimed with a small chuckle. However, I managed to catch his eyes darkening for a moment with sadness before perking back up. 

"Are you okay?" I asked him as he turned around and became lost in thought. 

"Erm, yes," he said quickly. "You just...remind me of someone." 

"Who?" I asked. 

"My daughter, Felicia," he smiled sadly. "She was the tiniest little girl with the kindest heart," he said as he fished around in his pocket, pulling out a small shape. 

"I want you to have this. It was hers," he said, handing me the object. I held it up to the light to see that it was a doll. Her lacy dress was ripped and stained with mud and one of her buttons was coming loose, but the stringy thread that made her hat and clothes was so well woven that I could tell that someone had put a lot of care and effort into making them.

A note from Queen Saralee: I know that now, you're expecting me to say something like "Though she was bedraggled and old, I instantly fell in love with this doll. I loved her more than the hundreds of high quality, well decorated dolls I had back at the palace," but I'm not. Sorry. Because I didn't, and I want this to be the true story of my life, not the weird over-dramatized version (we all know this is what most biographies are). 

Let's face it, the thing was ugly, and I was a princess who could get a new doll within minutes of asking. If you want to read a bunch of sappy cliché, read a different book. I think the fact that I, in my situation, DIDN'T throw that doll in the mud the minute the guy gave it to me shows that the gift meant a lot to me. No, you aren't about to read a scene where I started hugging the doll and gushing about how lovely it was because that's just...no. Anyway, on with the story of this amazing person namely ME!

"It's nice," I smiled softly, smoothing the doll's dress down and holding her tight. "But it's your daughter's...it belongs to her. I can't take it."