Turtles of the Plague

Chapter 3

Reed

I make the books whiz around the room, Dylan watching mesmerized. Enough so that she doesn't notice me watching her.

She's supposed to be in a French lesson, but as usual, she's decided to skip. Her hair is done up the way the ladies of court are supposed to wear it, but it's started to fall out, her dark curls now framing her face. She's thrown off her shoes and tights, her green dress rumpled as she sits on my bed, and I have to resist the urge to not stare too blatantly.

She glances my way, a smile tugging at her lips. I look away, feeling heat rise up in my cheeks.

"We should talk," she says. I let the books drop to the floor, spinning around in my chair to face her. She crosses her legs and puts her hands in her lap.

For a few moments we just watch each other. Then she speaks again.

"What was up with you last night? You looked like you'd seen a ghost when I found you, and I know you didn't go back to sleep after we got back to my room."

I don't deny her accusation, but still don't respond.

"What happened Reed?"

"I. . ." I struggle with how to explain to her what I saw, what I felt. "I went to the dungeons. There was something down there."

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, "What was it? And how did you know about it?"

"It was like," I start making wild hand gestures. "It woke me up, and summoned me. Down there. But when I got there, it was gone. I could feel it, though; cold and. . .dark. . ."

She looks skeptical, but moves on, "Okay. . .is it something we should be worried about?"

The memory makes my stomach roll, and I want to tell her that it's the only thing we should be worrying about, but hold my tongue, "No, I don't think so."

Her face twists into one of contempt, "Well, we should be worrying about that pink haired bitch and whatever that elf is."

I wince a little at her insult. It's been years, and still, I've never seen someone irk Dylan the way Gwen does. Not even her mother.

"I mean, why does she think that little elf is of any concern? He seemed completely harmless. And did you see how mean she was to him? She should be—"

I stop her before she can go into a full hate rant. "I can understand why she brought him back. Most elves have some sort of magic, and if there's one wandering freely around here, the queen should know about it."

Her nostrils flare at my defending of Gwen, "Did you see him? He was harmless. I was more worried about him hurting himself with all that crying than him casting some elfy spell on us."

I turn my eyes away from her, lifting the books back into the air with a flick of my wrist, "You can't always see power at first glance."

She gets up off the bed, beginning to pace around the room. She whirls on me, throwing her hands up in frustration, "I'm so tired of being trapped in this palace! I'm tired of wearing these gowns and pulling my hair up so tight my scalp goes numb. I'm tired of these fancy parties and meaningless small talk and pointless existence. There's got to be more to life than wealth and etiquette."

I have no words to offer her. Though I'm well aware of how much she despises her royal life, her blow ups such as these only happen on rare occasions. Usually I just let her rage for a few minutes until she eventually calms down, collapsing beside me and sighing something along the line of "it's just not fair." Today, though, she doesn't give me the option of being silent.