Apart

Chapter Three

Ashlyn opened her eyes groggily, only to be blinded by the light. She grunted and resorted to squinting. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed that the setting had changed. No longer was Ashlyn huddled in a cramped carriage; instead, she was lying in a silky soft bed, her head propped up on a stack of cream colored pillows.

Ashlyn pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing as a searing pain shot through her elbow. She was about to cry out in pain when the door to the room opened. Margaret entered, carrying a porcelain tray. "Oh, you're awake!" the old maid cried upon noticing Ashlyn's queer gaze.

"Margaret, what happened? Why am I suddenly in my room?" Ashlyn asked, glancing at her surroundings with a confused expression.

"Well," Margaret began, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "You were awful exhausted from last night and fell asleep in the carriage. Your father had a servant take you up to your room. He seemed a bit disgruntled last night, I must say."

"I suppose that would be my fault..." Ashlyn muttered, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. She let out a soft sigh, then clambered out of the bed. Margaret picked up a steaming tea pot from the tray, and poured a deep green liquid into a cup. She stirred it once before handing it gently to Ashlyn.

"What is this?" Ashlyn asked, staring at the liquid uneasily.

"It's an herbal tonic to help with stress. I thought you would like a cup after last night."

"So, you know what happened?"

"I'm afraid so dear. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole castle knows by now."

Ashlyn sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly. She sipped her tea, her face expressionless. "I can't talk to him," Ashlyn squeaked, squeezing her eyes tightly. Dread and panic began to stir inside her, and bile rose in her throat.

"Ashlyn, if your father is ever going to forgive you for this, you need to talk to him," Margaret whispered gently, sitting down next to Ashlyn. Ashlyn shook her head, eyes still closed.

"I can't Margaret. I don't want to see him right now." Ashlyn stood and opened her closet. She pulled out a fur coat made of mixed gray tones, and threw it on over her black shirt. She swapped her rustic red pants for softer, white leggings. Ashlyn turned to Margaret, announcing, "I'm going out. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Wait a minute dear, you can't just leave!" Margaret cried, racing over to Ashlyn and grabbing her shoulder. "You just woke up! You need to eat, and drink your tea."

Ashlyn turned around to face the maid. "Don't worry about me. I'll buy something in the market." With that Ashlyn was out the door, striding down the hall ways with the urge to leave. As she emerged into the sunlight, Ashlyn tied her hair into a bun. Relax Ashlyn. she thought to herself. The market is a calm place.

The sun beat down heavily upon her skin, tickling her hairs in a pleasant manner as she walked. A fresh breeze wafted through the streets, carrying with it the scent of fish and bread. Citizens were scattered everywhere, chattering amongst each other whilst doing their daily chores. Ashlyn took in a deep breath as she passed by the shops, contempt and relaxed.

She wound her way through the streets, heading for a specific shop that sold her favorite pastries: macaroons. The streets became far more clustered and crowded as Ashlyn progressed-an unusual amount of people for a Tuesday afternoon. Strange. Ashlyn thought to herself, pulling the hood of her coat over her head. The Law stated that royals must always keep their identities secret when out in public.

Suddenly Ashlyn's ears began to ring like wild church bells. A flash as bright as the sun dazed her eyes, as mobs of people dashed by. Horrific screams rose into the air, as if the dead were clambering up from their resting places. A bang. A crack. A burst of air. Ashlyn found herself on the ground, being trampled by wild feet. Dirt stained her eyes, and tears clung to her eyelashes.