Ageless

Chapter 21

For hours my muscles fought the neurotoxin, straining and pushing against the unseen bindings keeping my body from moving. Progress came, albeit slowly, starting with the face. First my mouth, then my eyes, followed by the ability to swivel my neck slightly.

The room was dark, but once my eyes adjusted, I began to make out shapes. I was lying in a spacious bedroom, which would have been rectangular in shape had it not been for the back wall, which curved around in a semi-circle. The bed -which was twice the width of the one Malcolm and I shared back home- was lined up against the back wall and facing a heavy oak door that remained closed. Next to it was a glass bed-stand, with the half-filled bottle of red wine still resting on its surface. To my left stood a massive wardrobe so wide that its wooden doors spanned the entire wall, followed by a small bookcase in the far corner.

Over and over again I willed life back into my extremities, sweat beading on the back of my neck as I grunted in physical exertion. A couple of hours later, and I had the fingers on both of my hands functioning normally again. Exhausted, yet content with my progress, I drifted off back to sleep.

* * *

I could sense her presence before I had even opened my eyes.

It was the scent of her perfume that gave it away; it hung in the air of the room, sweet and fragrant, like the scent of the wildflowers that lined the main road to the capital city.

When my eyes finally did open, the torches along the walls of the bedroom had been lit. The woman was leaning against the giant wardrobe, watching me.

I squinted to get a better look at her. By any standards, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Her face still held the youth of her early twenties, and she looked back at me with a pair of large green eyes that could have made any man melt in her gaze. When she noticed I was awake, she flicked her hair - a thick, cascading twist of dark blonde- so that it fell over her left shoulder.

When she spoke, there was no warmth in her voice. "Rise and shine," she said softly.

The woman sauntered over towards the bed, never breaking eye contact with me. She was small and lithe with soft features, dressed in flowing silks, yet as she approached me I could see a noticeable build of muscles knotting her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her otherwise delicate figure. The was an air of danger to the woman, much as she tried to conceal it.

"So this is the Church's pick for the next queen," she said, seating herself on the corner of my bed. She began to pick at the white silk sheets with a manicured fingernail. "Could hardly believe it myself when I first heard it, the 'Angel from the Gods', here at last. Seemed like another one of the King's sick jokes. Yet here you are, lying on my sister's bed." I could see the frigid hostility in her eyes as she regarded me. "This is the False King's ultimate humiliation to my family: to push the Urias line out of the throne in favor of his commoner wench."

My breath came faster, and I felt a primal urge to put as much distance between myself and the woman as I could. I tried willing my legs to move, to spring out of the bed and dash across to the doorway, but my body would not comply.

"Look, I'm not here to cause any trouble," I said. "You can be Queen. I'm only here to convince the King to leave with me. Once we leave, you can take whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, you say?" she asked, tossing her hair back to the other shoulder. "Well, I want my older sister back. I want the head of the man that took her life." She laughed, and looked down into her hands. "That, and anyone he cares about."

"Please," I said. "This is some kind of misunderstanding. Just give me five minutes to talk to him, he'll listen to me, I swear!"

My pleas fell on deaf ears, as the woman was suddenly showing great interest in the pillow propped under my head. Without warning, she yanked it from under me, and my head thudded painfully against the headboard. "I wonder how the King would feel if I snuffed the life out of his little commoner wench." Her fingers curled around the pillow and she crumpled it into a ball. "I heard she's undergoing the Baptism. It would be a real shame if the neurotoxins spread to her lungs and she stopped breathing." The pillow began to move closer to my face, and she shot me a smile laced with venom. "What do you think, sweetheart? What would our dear King's prophecies say about that?"