Dark Queen

ii.

     Cherry-red, cherry-red, cherry-red.

     Bloody-red, bloody-red, bloody-red.

     Zora used to like the color red. Her favorite pastime was making paper cutouts of glittery red hearts. Then she would paste them on the walls of her bedchambers, only to have the maids scold her and take them down. Secretly, she kept them in a small box in her desk drawer.

     Right now, she wanted nothing more than to tear them all to little shreds and burn them to ashes. Every thought in her mind was filled with red. Dark spots danced around so quickly, she was unable to follow them. There was a raging fire in the left side of her face. Zora tried to cry, but only her right cheek felt the cool wetness.

     Finally, she opened her eyes.

     Or, she tried. Her right eye fluttered open, and immediately she was blinded by light. She squinted, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Everything hurt.

     It was only then that she realized that her other eyelid was refusing to open. Gingerly, the little girl raised her fingers to her face and touched the skin. At the side of her mouth was a thin, raised area. Zora followed it upwards until she found unusually lumpy skin. Pain flared at her touch.

     She bolted upright, sending pillows askew. Her mirror was sitting atop the dresser. Tentatively, she raised herself out of bed, and peeked at her reflection. She was greeted with a gruesome sight.

     Th right side of her face was pristine. The same forest green iris, high cheekbone, defined nose, and dainty pink lips. Zora's gaze shifted to the left, and a scream gurgled from her throat. Where her other eye should have been was a mass of inflamed tissue. A jagged, puckered line traveled from her eyebrow to the corner of her lip. Both were red. They throbbed angrily, pulsing along with the beat of her racing heart.

     Tears spilled from her good eye as realization dawned on her. Her mother, her dear sweet mother, had done this too her. That night, Estilda's fury had made her unrecognizable. Zora's hands trembled violently.

     There was a loud creak, and Zora whipped around to see the double doors open. In stepped the royal physician. Marx was a tiny man only a few hairs taller than her nightstand. His long, hooked nose and beady little eyes unsettled her. So did his frizzy, stark white hair.

     He looked startled to see that she was awake. "Princess Zora, you are awake. How is your injury?"

     Zora was very quiet before speaking. "Why would Mama hurt me? Why does my face hurt so much?"

     Marx sat down at the foot of the bed. The mattress sank down a bit. "Queen Estilda is currently under lockdown in her chambers. No one may see her. It seems she is mentally unstable, hence why she carved out your eye. You lost a lot of blood, so use this time for resting."

     He sighed, raking spindly fingers through his hair. "The left side of your face is completely disfigured. We used hot pokers to stop the bleeding, and now you cannot even open your eyelid. That colossal scar cannot be covered easily. Fortunately, not too many nerves were damaged. You can still smile or frown. The only problem now is that you'll be extremely hard to marry off. Other kingdoms may not want a scarred princess. They will want pretty ones, like your sisters."

     Marx stood up, brushing off imaginary dust. "Well, I'll leave you to rest. I must go now." As he was about to close the door, he turned around, and his expression turned pensive. "I pity you, dear. Had you been born a boy, things would be so much different. Queen Estilda would be executed. You would have the kingdom swarming around you, and as a male, your scars would make you appear manlier."

     He shook his head. "But alas, you are nothing but a girl."

     Then the door shut.

     Zora fell back onto the pillows, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. It was such a nice ceiling. It depicted the skies, dark and gloomy. The many gods were clashing against one another. They held no care that their foes were their kin. In the center of it all was the glittering Sword of Dyvoark.

     A fat ruby was imbedded in its hilt, and its blade was long and shiny. There were legends of the Dyvoark. All were false, of course. They say whoever is possession of the sword can control the world. On a whim, he can summon typhoons and shake the earth beyond mythical strength. No wonder the gods were engaging in combat.

     Zora's eye wandered a little until it rested upon the gangly creatures kneeling beneath the gods. They were dark, ugly creatures with blackened skin and wild red eyes. Perched upon their gnarled fingers were ravens, beaks glistening.

     The Nefari.

     Zora had only heard stories of the terrifying creatures. The rumors claimed they were children of the gods, mighty and fearsome. They roamed outside of Etharia's walls, searching for prey. She shuddered.

     If one were unfortunate enough to wander beyond the kingdom and into the Radrelk Forest, he would never be seen again. If the Nefari were feeling generous, they would leave his bones outside the portcullis.

     The hours ticked by. The shadows abridged and lengthened, until barely any sunlight filtered through the massive windows. Zora was getting agitated. There was nothing to do, other than skimming her inflamed tissues and wincing.

     The young girl slid out of bed and swiftly braided her dark curls. Her pale nightgown swished around her as she slipped out of the room. The torches felt eerie; they flickered slowly. Zora was too young to know the exact way, but she knew the general area. Her bare feet created the slightest indentions on the luxuriant carpet.

     Zora was going to pay her mother a visit.

     Was she insane?

     Perhaps.

Yay! That was a fast chapter. Hopefully you got more insight of the type of world Zora lives in. It really sucks to be a girl.

Discussion Questions:
Do you think Estilda succeeded in her goal?
How will everyone treat her in the future?