The Silver Crown

31.

I was awoken the next morning by the sound of a door opening. I sat up quickly to assess the threat and relaxed when I recognized the queen. She gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth as she took in my appearance.

My mouth tasted like blood and I remembered the fight from the night before. I looked down, sure that my face looked like that of a monster. My hair probably wasn't much better. I had collapsed onto my bed last night without even removing my boots.

"Alyssandra, how are you feeling, dear?" The queen said softly. I groaned and rolled off my bed, just managing to stay on my feet.

"Not great."

"You don't look great," Marek said. I glanced up to see him standing in the doorway. "You didn't even take off your boots," He commented.

"I know," I stumbled over to the water pitcher across the room and drank straight from the rim.

"I'm worried about you," The queen said. She looked torn between comforting me and not wanting to touch me.

"The blood's not even mine!" I said. "Why don't I get cleaned up and then we can talk."

"Alright, dear." She walked out rather quickly. Marek moved to let her through but then came in and closed the door.

"I can see that you are lying," He said. "About the blood."

"She doesn't need to know that." I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my boots off with a grunt. Why did moving hurt so badly? "Turn around," I ordered.

Marek spun to face the door. I didn't have anyone to unlace my dress so I used a knife to cut it off. It had been unsalvageable anyway.

With the dress pooling around my ankles, I discovered the answer to my question: my entire hip was black and purple from where I had fallen on it last night. The bruise stretched halfway down my leg.

"Father is upset that you didn't go check in before you went to sleep last night," Marek said.

"I was too tired to think last night," I explained. I dragged myself over to the wardrobe, searching the drawers on the bottom for a tunic and breeches.

"Cynthia told me what you did yesterday." He wandered over to my dresser to pick up a necklace Maurice had been cajoling me into wearing. I was still refusing to let her dress me up.

"It was my fault that we were even in that mess to begin with. Do you think she will ever forgive me? DO you think the king will?" I pulled on some breeches. The waist rested right on my bruise, but they were loose enough that it wasn't unbearable. A large shirt went on next. I didn't care that they were too big. At least they were comfortable.

"You got them out of there without a scratch," Marek said. "And you got them all the home in one piece! I think father will want to reward you! You don't have to worry about forgiveness."

I spun towards the prince. "Marek, it's my fault. Even Brinian knows it!"

He walked toward the door, yanking it open. "I think you are being dramatic." He turned to look at me and I frowned. "Wash your face," He said, and then left.

I did wash my face. I scrubbed away the dirt and the blood. Then I washed my neck, careful around the shallow cut that I had received. My arm needed washing and binding because I reopened a cut there too. The knuckles on my right hand were bruised and scabbed. I ran a brush through my hair a few times and braided it as usual.