The Forest Queen: Isles & Tribulations

Chapter 5

Author's Note: I apologise for the length of this chapter. I know it's short, but I've had the first chapter of this story written for months, and I've simply split it into sections for Wattpad. This little bit is what I'm left with, and it wouldn't make sense to blend this chapter and the next one together. So, have a gander, if you please, and I'll post the next part soon. Thank you!

Malley and Stepsan did not follow as Sir Walter led her from the chamber. Across the entrance hall they walked, up the flagstone staircase and to the right. More wooden doors lined the walls on either side of the corridor, which seemed to be never-ending. Once they had reached the rear right-hand corner of the castle, Sir Walter pushed open a door that led them in to a small, circular room. All that it contained was a set of steep, spiralling stone steps. Simply looking at their incline made Orlaith's legs ache. “A little farther, my lady,” Sir Walter urged, tugging on her hand. Sighing lightly, Orlaith followed his lead and began the ascent.

The higher they climbed, the tighter the steps spiralled. By the time they had reached the top, another stitch was forming under Orlaith's ribs. Yet another wooden door awaited them, except this one was engraved with branches of swirling patterns. The intricacy of it mesmerised Orlaith.

Lifting the latch, Sir Walter opened the door and led her into the bedchamber. Same as the floor below, this room was also circular. The floorboards were made of smooth, shining mahogany. Directly opposite the doorway was a large bay window, its sill transformed into a cushioned seat. To the left was a plain fireplace, kindling already sitting in the grate, waiting to be lit; to the right stood a single four-poster bed, also made from mahogany. A curtained archway, close to the four-poster, led to a small privy. It was a small and simple bedchamber, but Orlaith found it rather cosy.

Letting go of Orlaith's hand, Sir Walter asked, “Is there anything you will need, my lady? Would you like the fire lighting?”

“No, sir, but thank you,” she replied with a genuine smile. “Living in the forest has accustomed me to much cooler temperatures than this.”

“Of course,” the knight said, as though his question had been an absurd one. “Well,” he continued, somewhat awkwardly, “if I have your leave to go, my lady...?”

Orlaith could do nothing but splutter as she tried to say, “Of course, sir.” Dismissing knights was as new to her as flying would have been. Yet Sir Walter seemed to understand. With a small half-smile he bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The silence that followed was so potent that the bedchamber almost hummed. Without moving from where she stood, Orlaith examined the entire room; she did not feel as though she had the right to move. As uncertain as she was, however, she did not feel threatened, despite Queen Camille's most inhospitable manner. Her own lack of fear confused Orlaith. She was experiencing so many emotions that she felt as though someone had replaced her brain with a platter of scrambled eggs.

Forcing herself to move, Orlaith made her way over to the impressive bed. Glancing shiftily around the room, she spread her arms and allowed herself to fall backwards. The bed's mattress was soft and bouncy; Orlaith was certain that she had never lain on anything quite so comfortable. A disbelieving grin spread across her face, before being disrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn.

 The day had finally succeeded in taking its toll. Rolling onto her front, Orlaith crawled to the head of the bed and pulled back the thick blankets. Neglecting to undress herself, she shuffled under the covers and dropped her head onto the thick, downy pillow. Sighing gently, Orlaith permitted her eyes to flutter closed. Sleep took her within minutes.