Scarlett's Secret

Chapter 15 - Hollowed Faces

I dressed Tyson in the unyielding silver exterior, disguising him as one of those of the Devils men. As we drifted through, past the domineering walls, we walked down the halls filled with hollowed faces. However the walking judges that mingle to themselves are not all that had their eyes beaming into my hovered spine, yet also the stony walls that daunted me.

It reminded me of the false sincerity of the lips that brushed against my cheek on the night of the ball... I pondered, am I the only one who can taste their counterfeit thoughts of the walking corpses.

They must have felt my pain, or despised my existence. We're all prisoners here, forcing smiles, doomed to death one fatal day. I just puff out my chest and glide along the stony floor; though inside my light was dimming.

No woman of the royal English blood has ever been more to her man than a slave with no tongue. It made me question why the King had chosen me, out of all the women in the land; me. The orphaned slave who could not sing, dance nor play the lute. Those are the qualities that make a fit wife; not those of despite, audacity, resilience, poverty. How can the King's Grace be ruled by one common stewed whore? Was it because I was different? I played on his chaotic mind; he would probe why I did not desire such a high standard man or in fact a King of England.

The darkness of my obscurity led my path; the end of the tunnel never seemed to appear. The only light witnessed in this monarchy within my living perdition was in my lover's eyes. Every day I longed to see my Tyson, the face of an angel who would steal me away from this terror, even if it were only for an hour. I had no fancy for the King, besides that first night we spent together. Such care and precaution he took with me, as though my delicate petals would crumble at his touch. He could not rid me of my determination to escape; I was but a subject of amusement to him. That was not love, but the arms of my Tyson, my darling, that was love.

But now I am finally on my escape; no more flirting with courtiers, forging smiles with those of Henry's friends, no more fur coats and overwhelming gowns and diamonds suffocating and weighing my frail frame down. We are almost at liberty, Tyson, Edward and I. I yearn for the day we can spend together, not reduced to whispers and hushing of our tongues.

Although my path has been unbearable, it led me to Tyson's olive trusting eyes. I wish to meet Tyson's father one day, Edward was his name. Even if that day never comes, hopefully, Tyson can see his father's trusting eyes in those of our son, Edward Jr.

There are a few people whom I truly love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I am indoctrinated and experience this cruel world, the more dissatisfaction thrives through me. Humans, how are they different from the animals in which they butcher?

I pondered as we raced through the halls, slowing our pace in front of company. Finally, we reached the front entrance, our escape of this modern perdition.  I helped Tyson out of the constraining silver.

We took precaution on our exit, hoping to not divert the eyes of the guards. We headed for the stables, freedom, I could taste it. Elliot was waiting by the front doors. I raced over towards him, kneeled down and wrapped my arms around his quivering form. "What is it, Elliot?" I questioned, slowly releasing from him.

"I'm so sorry." He pleaded.

I was muddled; he had done everything I had asked. Suddenly, a daunting shadow hovered over us. I looked up to meet the eyes that sent shivers down Elliot's feeble frame.

"Hello, Scarlett." His husky tone arose goosebumps on my skin, not the good kind. He gestured his hand towards me, bringing me back to my feet.

Tyson squeezed tighter on my hand as I responded to the man. "Good evening," I paused, swallowing harshly, "my lord."