Tame Amongst Flowers

     

            Whomever decided that lace was a wearable material should be drawn and quartered, Kydari thought to herself as she tugged grumpily at the uncomfortable collar around her neck. Her mother would kill her if she saw her pawing at the expensive dress that had taken her over an hour to wrestle her young daughter into, especially since it had come all the way from Wyntaer, a journey that cost almost as much as the clothes themselves. Despite Kydari's best efforts to hide in the sycamore tree all morning to avoid the torture of being dressed up like a doll, Miss Oprey had found her within just a few short hours of hunting and had the grounds keeper drag her out kicking and screaming. She had put up quite a fight as they wrangled the irate elfling into the bathtub so that they could do their best in extracting the thick layer of dirt from her skin, getting more water on the stone floor and the maids then on Kydari, and even now she still smirked at the bite mark she had left on Miss Oprey while she had attempted a brush through the wild bramble that was her hair. They may have succeeded in locking her up in this silly outfit, but not without a few scars to remember her by. It was the little things that gave the young heiress great pride.

           Kydari gave up on trying to rip the lace apart and huffed her way to the large floor-to-ceiling window that took up most of the western wall of her bedroom. The sun glittered in a dazzling display through the stained glass scene that decorated the top of the window, a depiction of a young maiden taming a unicorn. She had always hated that picture, though she did enjoy the way the colors turned her room into a rainbow of fire when the sun rose and set each day, hitting each fractal just right. She imagined her parents had envisioned their little one to be like the girl next to the ethereal creature, soft and kind enough to have one of the most elusive beasts in Varlath approach her with ease. But no matter how many etiquette tutors and courtly scholars they brought in, their unicorn-taming maiden turned out to be an ember-haired hellion.. She blamed the stained glass for setting a standard from the beginning that she would never live up to, even if she tried.

          As she crawled up onto the bench set before the window, she took joy in knowing she was wrinkling the fine satin of the dress. The dress may be her prison, but she'd nick the bars before the day was out. Kydari stared out to the courtyard below, her apple green eyes flashing angrily with each carriage that arrived through the intricate gate, the only way in or out of the walled-in estate. And it was most certainly the only way in or out: the walls were impeccably-kept and encircled the estate to an inch, and they always seemed too slick to scale. And she could not neglect to mention the regular guard patrols, many of whom she was on a first-name basis with.

           A particularly posh carriage with shining black wood and gold filigree drawn by four white chargers sauntered into the cobblestone roundabout. It circled the massive fountain used as a centerpiece as they halted before the front doors. The guardsmen that manned the gate shut it behind the carriage and Kydari knew that her time was up. The festivities were to begin now and there was no more time to hide. She should have been curious as to who would step out of such a grand carriage but instead she turned away from the window and sighed.

           Even now, she heard footsteps rapidly making their way down the hall, the clicking of heels stopping just before her bedroom door. Kydari considered if she could be strong enough to push her armoire in front of the door, or perhaps taking the plush armchair that sat beside her vanity and heaving in through the window in a last ditch effort to free herself while she could, but the jingling of keys being inserted into the lock told her it was too late. She put on her best grimace, a face she learned from the many gargoyle statues that decorated the gardens, and directed it at Miss Oprey as she entered the room. The woman was old enough to be her grandmother, but she was still healthy and spry enough to chase the girl down when necessary. Her silver hair was always swept up into a perfect bun on the top of her head, held in place with a golden pin that had a white oleander charm dangling from a small chain. She didn't bother to rouge her lips and cheeks like so many high class Trali elves did, but her clothes were kept in immaculate order, often with high collars that would reach to her chin and long sleeves that draped past her thin waist. As long as she could remember, the woman never wore anything other than gray, and today was no different, although the mauve sash tied around her hips was a new touch.