I S O L A T I O N

Chapter Four

The sun was so yellow, and the sky was so, so red. And the flowers— they were so... Everything. But the castle, it was gray. She wasn't particularly fond of gray, considering there was a whole world of vibrant and living colors. That dichotomy was the framework for her new life. The antithesis of bright and dull set the foundation for what she could reach out to and what she had to run away from.

At first, being released from the room she'd lived her whole life in, she thought the transition would be a lot more convoluted and frightening, but the more that she maneuvered herself using the colors as her crutches the more that she found that this new world was like a game of chess. The colors, they were her allies— her knights, her kings, her bishops, but never the pawns. And the grays and black and whites— they were what she couldn't trust and what she had to defeat.

Likewise, the people running around like mice on their daily routines outside— even if they were noisy and cranky when she was coronated— were good. They were her pieces, and, as their queen, she would lead and protect them. Her castle and its inhabitants, the nobles, dressed in dull and unflattering attire, were what she aimed to capture and destroy. Checkmate was her only option against the darkness that hacked and coughed its poison beyond her door.

There was, however, a few complications to her findings. Like, what, exactly, was this strange man who always stood by her desk like a broken lamp with no purpose. He didn't bring her food. He wasn't smart. The man even wore armor even though he wasn't in battle. She didn't like him very much, but... He wasn't exactly colorless. If she had to pick a color for him it would probably be... Green. He stunk. A lot.

She was the sovereign now, but he acted like she was a servant. 'Bedtime, Asher,' 'you have to wear clothes, Asher,' 'desks aren't for sleeping, Asher.' He was a very bad knight. While she was on it, he was also not very good at reading her mind. Why, she rarely had to explain herself to the other girl. The other girl was very good at understanding what she meant. She bet if she had handed her the note she would have known immediately what it meant.

The note. It was the speech she wanted to give the little people outside in the city. She had worked really hard on it, writing it in such a way that it would inspire the citizens, akin to the heroes and kings in those novels. The day she became sovereign, she had only seen sorrow and grief on the faces of the commoners that gathered. It was like a large gray smudge on a beautiful painting, and she wanted to wipe it away.

She wasn't completely ignorant. Maybe the man and the many occupants of the castle thought she was childlike or oblivious to what was going on around her; they assumed her isolation in the dark of the castle meant she was waking from a coma to a whole new world, but they were wrong. Yes, most days she was alone, but she was visited frequently in the last few years— a visitation that was as mutually beneficial.

The other girl. She came quite often, and along with her company she brought information. The girl was, at the time, the princess Denza, reigning monarch once the king was dead. She had inherited the throne, but with that came an inherited basket of troubles. She told her all about the state of affairs in Felv, the political landscape among the nobles and monarchy, and she asked her help. From her, she knew all about the snakes in the shadows, and she knew that the other girl was among them.

But she stayed quiet. It seemed best that she only responded to the questions she was given and aid the princess. She kept her observations to herself. Then, one day, a strange man with a color she could not discern, either, opened the door to her cage. He was a piece on the board that she hadn't known or anticipated, so she kept to herself once again. If anything, he'd widened the bars on her cage, and that was good enough for her. But not free.

No, never free. She would really be as oblivious and ignorant as they thought if she allowed herself to think that she was free. She knew her place as a pawn, and she would play it until she could truly reach the crown of the queen.

Maybe then she wouldn't have to eat broccoli.

"Asher, I don't know what kind of slop they fed you in the dungeon, but you're a princess now, and you gotta eat healthy if you wanna be a big, strong queen," the dumb guard man scolded her. "And get your elbow off the table. Who taught you manners— dust mites?

Asher stared at her salad of broccoli. This was inhumane— more so than being caged her entire life. She would have rather died of malnutrition than eat this "health". The man was supposed to protect her, but, instead, he was trying to poison her. Snake. Defiler. The thought repulsed her so much that she almost twitched her lip in a frown.

The man sighed and swatted her elbow off the table, sending her head that had been resting on its palm plunging down. The girl sat back and glanced up at him. Her eyes might have been blank, but she was very angry. Like, a lot of angry. In defiance, she took her plate and spilled its contents onto the floor. The man's furry brows twitched. His hand itched over the hilt of his sword. Then, calming himself, he took a breath and shrugged.

"I guess I'll eat your dessert for you since you're not hungry..." He mumbled. Asher's eyes widened.

Dessert? No! Impossible! She was the reigning monarch, not him! That dessert was her birthright! Asher reached out to grab the tray of pudding from the man, but he kicked her chair in to hold her against the table. With his foot binding her, the monster dipped his spoon into the treat and sucked it into his mouth. The girl flailed and reached out for it, but she could do nothing. No, never freedom.

Suddenly, the door of the Monarch's Nap swung open, but it was not the cloaked man who stepped through to find the torture scene. It was the Invader from the desert.

Asher's limbs fell dumb, as did the foot pinning her in her seat. A suffocating stillness fell over the room as she watched the Invader's billowing stormy eyes lock onto her guard's. A shaky breath dipped passed her lips as she kept her own eyes down, and her guard placed the pudding down onto its cart. Without a word, he followed the unspoken command to take his leave. That left the girl alone with the Invader.

It wasn't the first time she'd been his vip guest invitation, but each time an instinctual fear overcame her. It was like when one reached out to a stray dog. Good intentions or not, it didn't matter. The dog was wary.