Fate's Choice

Dust

The granulated road dust thrown up by the carriage and its phalanx of armed soldiers on horseback created clouds to fog their approach. On either side of the road stood tall arching lanterns to light the way and caught the glimmer of the carriage's golden embellishments, the soldiers' brass buttons, and the decorative bells on each horse's reins.

Farther back riding in an open ice cart rode the few servants meant to attend to the family. They ate boiled peeled potatoes with their bare hands and passed around an earthen jug of water as their supper. Their entertainment for the evening was to watch Lamia, tethered by a rope twisted about her wrists and tied to the bottom of the cart, skipping and crying and desperate to stay upright, to keep up, to not be dragged.

Lamia gulped the dust and choked while the liveried servants pointed at her and cackled.

Her eyes and nose burn and ran so the dirt on her face turned to mud. She was denied not only food and water but clothing. Still in her hair smock she was coated in a layer of dust.

The palace was only two miles away but by the time they arrived Lamia's feet were scraped and the coarse rope had bitten into her wrists. When the cart finally stopped near the servants' entrance Lamia collapsed to her knees and slumped over. Her mind opened and closed and her heart and stomach threatened to trade places.

Grimold leapt from the cart last with that same sinister smirk pulled at his lips.

Dressed smartly as General Edwin's valet in the colors of emerald green and black, he kicked at the dust with his boot. Lamia flinched and rolled away. His smile faltered for a second as he assessed her.

"You know, pet, I am impressed. I wouldn't have pegged you as one who could endure a run like that." He chucked and walked around her.

"I was sure you'd of scraped your face clean off on the road."

Lamia answered in moans.

Like a switch Grimold scowled and judged her with his toe until she rolled onto her back. He stared at her, at her face and hair showered in filth and then he paused. He looked around.

The driver of the cart and the others had gone inside the palace and the soldiers had safely escorted Lady Aimee and her parents into the receiving room.

Grimold swiveled his head and narrowed his gaze.

"You know I've always wanted to see you on your back but not exactly like this."

Lamia turned away and spat out a hot glob of dirt.

"Hold on a second."

Grimold reaches down and from one of his boots he pulled out a sheathed dagger. When he pulled the blade free Lamia saw it through half opened eyes. Grimold grabbed her bound wrists and cut her free; she lacked the strength necessary to rub her sore wrists and let them lay limp on her chest.

"What no 'thank you'?" Grimold whined.

"Kill me...please!" Lamia gasped.

"Kill you? Why would I kill you?"

"Please...I can't...I can't live...like this."

"As a slave?"

Lamia shook with sobs.

Grimold curled his lip. "Don't be so pathetic. You're about to be the slave to a future queen! Do you know what people would give for that? Huh? To live in a palace?"

Lamia shook her head and Grimold put his dagger back in his boot.

"See when I get free I have to start over, struggle to get on my feet. I won't have a palace to sleep in." He spat into the dirt.

"Rather be dead." Lamia barked.

Grimold walked back to the cart and grabbed the earthen jug and gave it a little shake, still some water inside.

Holding it he cane to stand over her as she started to blink her eyes.

"You know I could take you here and now but then I would ruin my nice uniform."

Grimold flicked the jug over, dowsing Lamia and sending her into paroxysms and screams.

"Alright, break time is over. Get up!"

He did not wait to see her crawling and trembling through the servants' entrance.