Chapter 9
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
The sun greeted Isilla, shining brightly through window and across her bed, , the curtain left open from the night before. The lamps she had left burning looked dim and off color in the light of the sun. She climbed out of bed slowly and touched each one, the lights flickering out at her command.
She used the toilet and then looked at herself in the mirror. Even after her night's sleep she felt tired and drained. It's all the changes, she thought touching her cheek. She shivered, the cold from the floor seeping through her feet and through the thick robe. I've never done so much work in the Veil, she thought. Just the two dreams had been a great deal to shift, the nightmares were far more powerful here than they ever were in her home.
Alone she climbed back into bed. Feeling more settled from her time in the Veil she let herself think of the night before.
"Arren was, strange," she said to herself. He was pleasant in the garden and then when he was alone with me at first but then after we kissed, he became so cold, she thought. And before, when he saved me from his brother, he was cold then, too. Was it because I was afraid? Isn't it natural to be afraid?
I wanted to ask him about the letters. He read them, that was clear from his comments, but would he even tell me who wrote them, she thought, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. Maybe if I hadn't been so frightened of him but then, I have never seen anything like that.
The memory of it came to her. The touch of the shadows as they reached for her, like the touch of the softest fabric but so much and so dark. Then there were his eyes. She pressed her palms to her temples and shook the image away, it was too much, as if there was something else living behind his eyes.
Her stomach growled but she didn't know where to go or what to do. By the sun, she thought it was likely late morning but there was no proof.
She left the bed, crossed the room to her door and opening it entered her sitting room. The small couch sat across from a book case that held vases and small figurines. The window here showed a dull gray morning. So the castle doesn't show everything the same, she noted as she passed through the space and out to the final door to the small collection of her apartments.
There hadn't been time to take in the space when she arrived. She drew the robe closer to herself as she looked. In front of her stood another door, the way out to the main castle. To her right, a hallway that likely led to the maids' quarters.
What should I do, she wondered.
Laughter came from the maids' quarters and she turned to it. The three women made their way from a room and were walking towards her, chatting between themselves.
"You two are in a good mood today," the shorter of the three said.
The thinnest one chuckled, "I had a really good night's sleep."
The oldest women nodded in agreement, "Me too."
They stopped as they came upon Isilla. She smiled brightly at them, hoping they would be kinder to her in the daylight.
"What are you doing out here?" the short one asked.
Isilla rubbed her belly, assuming that everyone would understand such simple motions.
"Oh, she hungry," the thin one chuckled.
"A little late in the morning, isn't it?" the short one asked.
"Leave her be," the oldest said waving the other two off. "Greta, get her breakfast. Sele and I will see to dressing her."
Isilla smiled nervously as the woman ushered her back into her rooms.
The oldest one sat her on the stool and hurriedly began on her hair. She grunted at the knots and tangles created by the night but picked at them gently, the gruffness from the night before gone, even if her complaints remained.
She didn't bother with the fancy braids of the night before. Instead she formed a sort of crown from Isilla's own hair, one braid that circled her skull and left the rest out and free. She pushed pins topped with ivory shaped like flowers into the braid for some decoration. Finished she stepped back, shaking her head. "We'll leave the makeup off this morning. But at least if he comes your hair is presentable."
"Do you think he'll for her again today, Hanna?" Sele asked from the closet, a maroon dress in her hands.
"Who knows?" Hanna responded.
Greta bustled into the door with a tray and quickly placed it on the table. "A messenger was waiting at the door! She's been asked for."
"When?" Sele asked a look of worry crossing her face.
"As soon as she's dressed. If she's going to eat, she needs to do it quick!" Greta said laying out the breakfast. Fruit, cheese, bread and a porridge.
"Well, go girl!" Hanna said pushing her forward. "So soon, what a monster," she mumbled at her back.
Isilla nodded and smiled. They were still casual with her, treating her as if she were not royalty but Isilla didn't mind. Royal treatment was not something she was accustomed to, it pleased her enough that they were being kinder to her.
She tried the porridge. A milky gray paste that she was unfamiliar with. She grimaced at the bland taste.
"Try some sugar," Hanna offered scooping the sweet powder into the bowl. "Just like a baby," she added as she stirred it and handed the spoon back to Isilla.
The taste improved but she still didn't think she liked it. She finished the bowl quickly and ate a few bites of fruit while the women pulled out clothing and jewels. The dress was replaced with another, this one a deep blue with a fabric that seemed to shimmer when the light hit it just right.
"Come one, come on," Greta said half pulling her up from the chair.
"Are you sure this hair is alright?" Sele asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"It's fine," Hanna said as she helped her out of her dressing gown. "Good, no bruises to cover."
Bruises, Isilla thought, questioning the woman with her eyes. If Hanna noticed the silent communication, she did not acknowledge it. Instead she slipped a thin shift over her shoulders before the other two women lifted the dress over her head. As a group, they tided the fabric over her form, tightening the laces in the back so that the dress fit snuggly.
Greta hung a necklace at her throat, a large blue stone on a thick golden chain. Hanna finger combed her hair, straightening it over her shoulders before nodding. "I think this is as good as she'll get."
A light blush rose to Isilla's cheeks and avoided looking in the mirror, catching only the a slight glimpse of herself as she turned away. The women rushed her to the door but she stopped and gathered the book and the pen, placing the pen in the cover of the book before holding it to her chest.
She steeped into the shoes, thankful that she had practiced walking in the low heels over the weeks of travel. Finally ready, the maids led her from the rooms and to the main hall.
An anxious young boy stood, dancing from foot to foot, his brown hair a shaggy mess. "Is this her?" he asked.
"Who else would it be?" Greta snapped back. "Go on, take her."
The boy motioned for her to follow and Isilla stepped into the dark halls of the palace.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls. The false torches lined the walls, casting pools of light that barely pierced the darkness of the space. Every few steps hung paintings and tapestries but the boy did not waste his breath pointing anything out.
He walked quickly, oblivious of Isilla's pace behind him. He took turns that led down halls that seemed identical to Isilla but the boy appeared to know his way well. Without warning he stopped at a door that seemed like any other door to her eyes and pushed it open.
Turning he instructed her, "Wait inside. Arren, the prince I mean, will be in shortly."
Nodding, she opened her book and wrote, Thank you.
The boy read her note quickly and smiled, his cheeks turning a pale pink, "You're welcome, Princess."
Alone she walked through the door and into a sitting room, not unlike the room that waited outside of her own bedroom. This one was much larger, with more shelves, that held actual books and a door at the other end. A couch and two chairs sat facing each in the center of the room but Isilla walked to the shelves and inspected the books. Only the spines of the leather-bound covers were visible, their titles clear in bold letters. None of which were familiar to her.
She sat down her own book and pulled one of them from it's place on the shelf. Opening it at random she walked towards the window, cold light shining through it, illuminating the thick black writing on the page.
The words were in the language of the Dark Realm but her mind translated them quickly, proud of how much she had learned of it in the past year of back and forth letters. The memory sent a sting of sadness through her heart as well.
I learned more so I could speak to him better but I guess that wasn't necessary, not really, she thought. Exhaling she looked out the window. This one looked down over a ruined garden, the gray late fall sky over head. Wait, she thought touching the glass. Cold seeped into the pads of her fingers. This is real.
The door opposite of the one she had entered swung open, drawing her attention to the sound. She looked up as Arren stepped into the room, heavy shadows following him.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
The sun greeted Isilla, shining brightly through window and across her bed, , the curtain left open from the night before. The lamps she had left burning looked dim and off color in the light of the sun. She climbed out of bed slowly and touched each one, the lights flickering out at her command.
She used the toilet and then looked at herself in the mirror. Even after her night's sleep she felt tired and drained. It's all the changes, she thought touching her cheek. She shivered, the cold from the floor seeping through her feet and through the thick robe. I've never done so much work in the Veil, she thought. Just the two dreams had been a great deal to shift, the nightmares were far more powerful here than they ever were in her home.
Alone she climbed back into bed. Feeling more settled from her time in the Veil she let herself think of the night before.
"Arren was, strange," she said to herself. He was pleasant in the garden and then when he was alone with me at first but then after we kissed, he became so cold, she thought. And before, when he saved me from his brother, he was cold then, too. Was it because I was afraid? Isn't it natural to be afraid?
I wanted to ask him about the letters. He read them, that was clear from his comments, but would he even tell me who wrote them, she thought, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. Maybe if I hadn't been so frightened of him but then, I have never seen anything like that.
The memory of it came to her. The touch of the shadows as they reached for her, like the touch of the softest fabric but so much and so dark. Then there were his eyes. She pressed her palms to her temples and shook the image away, it was too much, as if there was something else living behind his eyes.
Her stomach growled but she didn't know where to go or what to do. By the sun, she thought it was likely late morning but there was no proof.
She left the bed, crossed the room to her door and opening it entered her sitting room. The small couch sat across from a book case that held vases and small figurines. The window here showed a dull gray morning. So the castle doesn't show everything the same, she noted as she passed through the space and out to the final door to the small collection of her apartments.
There hadn't been time to take in the space when she arrived. She drew the robe closer to herself as she looked. In front of her stood another door, the way out to the main castle. To her right, a hallway that likely led to the maids' quarters.
What should I do, she wondered.
Laughter came from the maids' quarters and she turned to it. The three women made their way from a room and were walking towards her, chatting between themselves.
"You two are in a good mood today," the shorter of the three said.
The thinnest one chuckled, "I had a really good night's sleep."
The oldest women nodded in agreement, "Me too."
They stopped as they came upon Isilla. She smiled brightly at them, hoping they would be kinder to her in the daylight.
"What are you doing out here?" the short one asked.
Isilla rubbed her belly, assuming that everyone would understand such simple motions.
"Oh, she hungry," the thin one chuckled.
"A little late in the morning, isn't it?" the short one asked.
"Leave her be," the oldest said waving the other two off. "Greta, get her breakfast. Sele and I will see to dressing her."
Isilla smiled nervously as the woman ushered her back into her rooms.
The oldest one sat her on the stool and hurriedly began on her hair. She grunted at the knots and tangles created by the night but picked at them gently, the gruffness from the night before gone, even if her complaints remained.
She didn't bother with the fancy braids of the night before. Instead she formed a sort of crown from Isilla's own hair, one braid that circled her skull and left the rest out and free. She pushed pins topped with ivory shaped like flowers into the braid for some decoration. Finished she stepped back, shaking her head. "We'll leave the makeup off this morning. But at least if he comes your hair is presentable."
"Do you think he'll for her again today, Hanna?" Sele asked from the closet, a maroon dress in her hands.
"Who knows?" Hanna responded.
Greta bustled into the door with a tray and quickly placed it on the table. "A messenger was waiting at the door! She's been asked for."
"When?" Sele asked a look of worry crossing her face.
"As soon as she's dressed. If she's going to eat, she needs to do it quick!" Greta said laying out the breakfast. Fruit, cheese, bread and a porridge.
"Well, go girl!" Hanna said pushing her forward. "So soon, what a monster," she mumbled at her back.
Isilla nodded and smiled. They were still casual with her, treating her as if she were not royalty but Isilla didn't mind. Royal treatment was not something she was accustomed to, it pleased her enough that they were being kinder to her.
She tried the porridge. A milky gray paste that she was unfamiliar with. She grimaced at the bland taste.
"Try some sugar," Hanna offered scooping the sweet powder into the bowl. "Just like a baby," she added as she stirred it and handed the spoon back to Isilla.
The taste improved but she still didn't think she liked it. She finished the bowl quickly and ate a few bites of fruit while the women pulled out clothing and jewels. The dress was replaced with another, this one a deep blue with a fabric that seemed to shimmer when the light hit it just right.
"Come one, come on," Greta said half pulling her up from the chair.
"Are you sure this hair is alright?" Sele asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"It's fine," Hanna said as she helped her out of her dressing gown. "Good, no bruises to cover."
Bruises, Isilla thought, questioning the woman with her eyes. If Hanna noticed the silent communication, she did not acknowledge it. Instead she slipped a thin shift over her shoulders before the other two women lifted the dress over her head. As a group, they tided the fabric over her form, tightening the laces in the back so that the dress fit snuggly.
Greta hung a necklace at her throat, a large blue stone on a thick golden chain. Hanna finger combed her hair, straightening it over her shoulders before nodding. "I think this is as good as she'll get."
A light blush rose to Isilla's cheeks and avoided looking in the mirror, catching only the a slight glimpse of herself as she turned away. The women rushed her to the door but she stopped and gathered the book and the pen, placing the pen in the cover of the book before holding it to her chest.
She steeped into the shoes, thankful that she had practiced walking in the low heels over the weeks of travel. Finally ready, the maids led her from the rooms and to the main hall.
An anxious young boy stood, dancing from foot to foot, his brown hair a shaggy mess. "Is this her?" he asked.
"Who else would it be?" Greta snapped back. "Go on, take her."
The boy motioned for her to follow and Isilla stepped into the dark halls of the palace.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls. The false torches lined the walls, casting pools of light that barely pierced the darkness of the space. Every few steps hung paintings and tapestries but the boy did not waste his breath pointing anything out.
He walked quickly, oblivious of Isilla's pace behind him. He took turns that led down halls that seemed identical to Isilla but the boy appeared to know his way well. Without warning he stopped at a door that seemed like any other door to her eyes and pushed it open.
Turning he instructed her, "Wait inside. Arren, the prince I mean, will be in shortly."
Nodding, she opened her book and wrote, Thank you.
The boy read her note quickly and smiled, his cheeks turning a pale pink, "You're welcome, Princess."
Alone she walked through the door and into a sitting room, not unlike the room that waited outside of her own bedroom. This one was much larger, with more shelves, that held actual books and a door at the other end. A couch and two chairs sat facing each in the center of the room but Isilla walked to the shelves and inspected the books. Only the spines of the leather-bound covers were visible, their titles clear in bold letters. None of which were familiar to her.
She sat down her own book and pulled one of them from it's place on the shelf. Opening it at random she walked towards the window, cold light shining through it, illuminating the thick black writing on the page.
The words were in the language of the Dark Realm but her mind translated them quickly, proud of how much she had learned of it in the past year of back and forth letters. The memory sent a sting of sadness through her heart as well.
I learned more so I could speak to him better but I guess that wasn't necessary, not really, she thought. Exhaling she looked out the window. This one looked down over a ruined garden, the gray late fall sky over head. Wait, she thought touching the glass. Cold seeped into the pads of her fingers. This is real.
The door opposite of the one she had entered swung open, drawing her attention to the sound. She looked up as Arren stepped into the room, heavy shadows following him.
The sun greeted Isilla, shining brightly through window and across her bed, , the curtain left open from the night before. The lamps she had left burning looked dim and off color in the light of the sun. She climbed out of bed slowly and touched each one, the lights flickering out at her command.She used the toilet and then looked at herself in the mirror. Even after her night's sleep she felt tired and drained. It's all the changes, she thought touching her cheek. She shivered, the cold from the floor seeping through her feet and through the thick robe. I've never done so much work in the Veil, she thought. Just the two dreams had been a great deal to shift, the nightmares were far more powerful here than they ever were in her home.Alone she climbed back into bed. Feeling more settled from her time in the Veil she let herself think of the night before."Arren was, strange," she said to herself. He was pleasant in the garden and then when he was alone with me at first but then after we kissed, he became so cold, she thought. And before, when he saved me from his brother, he was cold then, too. Was it because I was afraid? Isn't it natural to be afraid?I wanted to ask him about the letters. He read them, that was clear from his comments, but would he even tell me who wrote them, she thought, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. Maybe if I hadn't been so frightened of him but then, I have never seen anything like that.The memory of it came to her. The touch of the shadows as they reached for her, like the touch of the softest fabric but so much and so dark. Then there were his eyes. She pressed her palms to her temples and shook the image away, it was too much, as if there was something else living behind his eyes.Her stomach growled but she didn't know where to go or what to do. By the sun, she thought it was likely late morning but there was no proof.She left the bed, crossed the room to her door and opening it entered her sitting room. The small couch sat across from a book case that held vases and small figurines. The window here showed a dull gray morning. So the castle doesn't show everything the same, she noted as she passed through the space and out to the final door to the small collection of her apartments.There hadn't been time to take in the space when she arrived. She drew the robe closer to herself as she looked. In front of her stood another door, the way out to the main castle. To her right, a hallway that likely led to the maids' quarters.What should I do, she wondered.Laughter came from the maids' quarters and she turned to it. The three women made their way from a room and were walking towards her, chatting between themselves."You two are in a good mood today," the shorter of the three said.The thinnest one chuckled, "I had a really good night's sleep."The oldest women nodded in agreement, "Me too."They stopped as they came upon Isilla. She smiled brightly at them, hoping they would be kinder to her in the daylight."What are you doing out here?" the short one asked.Isilla rubbed her belly, assuming that everyone would understand such simple motions."Oh, she hungry," the thin one chuckled."A little late in the morning, isn't it?" the short one asked."Leave her be," the oldest said waving the other two off. "Greta, get her breakfast. Sele and I will see to dressing her."Isilla smiled nervously as the woman ushered her back into her rooms.The oldest one sat her on the stool and hurriedly began on her hair. She grunted at the knots and tangles created by the night but picked at them gently, the gruffness from the night before gone, even if her complaints remained.She didn't bother with the fancy braids of the night before. Instead she formed a sort of crown from Isilla's own hair, one braid that circled her skull and left the rest out and free. She pushed pins topped with ivory shaped like flowers into the braid for some decoration. Finished she stepped back, shaking her head. "We'll leave the makeup off this morning. But at least if he comes your hair is presentable.""Do you think he'll for her again today, Hanna?" Sele asked from the closet, a maroon dress in her hands."Who knows?" Hanna responded.Greta bustled into the door with a tray and quickly placed it on the table. "A messenger was waiting at the door! She's been asked for.""When?" Sele asked a look of worry crossing her face."As soon as she's dressed. If she's going to eat, she needs to do it quick!" Greta said laying out the breakfast. Fruit, cheese, bread and a porridge."Well, go girl!" Hanna said pushing her forward. "So soon, what a monster," she mumbled at her back.Isilla nodded and smiled. They were still casual with her, treating her as if she were not royalty but Isilla didn't mind. Royal treatment was not something she was accustomed to, it pleased her enough that they were being kinder to her.She tried the porridge. A milky gray paste that she was unfamiliar with. She grimaced at the bland taste."Try some sugar," Hanna offered scooping the sweet powder into the bowl. "Just like a baby," she added as she stirred it and handed the spoon back to Isilla.The taste improved but she still didn't think she liked it. She finished the bowl quickly and ate a few bites of fruit while the women pulled out clothing and jewels. The dress was replaced with another, this one a deep blue with a fabric that seemed to shimmer when the light hit it just right."Come one, come on," Greta said half pulling her up from the chair."Are you sure this hair is alright?" Sele asked, her voice trembling slightly."It's fine," Hanna said as she helped her out of her dressing gown. "Good, no bruises to cover."Bruises, Isilla thought, questioning the woman with her eyes. If Hanna noticed the silent communication, she did not acknowledge it. Instead she slipped a thin shift over her shoulders before the other two women lifted the dress over her head. As a group, they tided the fabric over her form, tightening the laces in the back so that the dress fit snuggly.Greta hung a necklace at her throat, a large blue stone on a thick golden chain. Hanna finger combed her hair, straightening it over her shoulders before nodding. "I think this is as good as she'll get."A light blush rose to Isilla's cheeks and avoided looking in the mirror, catching only the a slight glimpse of herself as she turned away. The women rushed her to the door but she stopped and gathered the book and the pen, placing the pen in the cover of the book before holding it to her chest.She steeped into the shoes, thankful that she had practiced walking in the low heels over the weeks of travel. Finally ready, the maids led her from the rooms and to the main hall.An anxious young boy stood, dancing from foot to foot, his brown hair a shaggy mess. "Is this her?" he asked."Who else would it be?" Greta snapped back. "Go on, take her."The boy motioned for her to follow and Isilla stepped into the dark halls of the palace.Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls. The false torches lined the walls, casting pools of light that barely pierced the darkness of the space. Every few steps hung paintings and tapestries but the boy did not waste his breath pointing anything out.He walked quickly, oblivious of Isilla's pace behind him. He took turns that led down halls that seemed identical to Isilla but the boy appeared to know his way well. Without warning he stopped at a door that seemed like any other door to her eyes and pushed it open.Turning he instructed her, "Wait inside. Arren, the prince I mean, will be in shortly."Nodding, she opened her book and wrote, Thank you.The boy read her note quickly and smiled, his cheeks turning a pale pink, "You're welcome, Princess."Alone she walked through the door and into a sitting room, not unlike the room that waited outside of her own bedroom. This one was much larger, with more shelves, that held actual books and a door at the other end. A couch and two chairs sat facing each in the center of the room but Isilla walked to the shelves and inspected the books. Only the spines of the leather-bound covers were visible, their titles clear in bold letters. None of which were familiar to her.She sat down her own book and pulled one of them from it's place on the shelf. Opening it at random she walked towards the window, cold light shining through it, illuminating the thick black writing on the page.The words were in the language of the Dark Realm but her mind translated them quickly, proud of how much she had learned of it in the past year of back and forth letters. The memory sent a sting of sadness through her heart as well.I learned more so I could speak to him better but I guess that wasn't necessary, not really, she thought. Exhaling she looked out the window. This one looked down over a ruined garden, the gray late fall sky over head. Wait, she thought touching the glass. Cold seeped into the pads of her fingers. This is real.The door opposite of the one she had entered swung open, drawing her attention to the sound. She looked up as Arren stepped into the room, heavy shadows following him.
