A Burning Sky

The little broken bit of mirror that I had long ago stashed under the thin padding that pretend to be my pillow showed me that the cut on my face from one of Grent's rings was not as bad as I feared. Pulling my scarf from my head, I ran my fingers through my hair and winced as it pulled. I didn't own a brush, like a few of the lucky girls here, and of course they never let me borrow their precious items. I rubbed my hand over my sore back, where I would no doubt have the bruise of a foot for a while, and fought the urge to curl up and go to sleep. I did not have that kind of luxury, not here.

After tying my scarf back over my hair, I made my way back up the stairs and into the kitchen area. Chauce was preparing the meal for the slaves and when he offered me a bowl, I declined it and moved towards the back doors, leading into the guest quarters. I usually cleaned the rooms once a week, unless there were guests in them. At that point, I was not permitted to be in the room unless I was specifically ordered to enter. I walked past the doors, counting as I did so, of how many were occupied.

Arthur would be housed in the largest guest room, further back, but I counted six doors occupied in the front. Seven men in total, new to the house. As I walked through the hall, aimlessly as I really didn't have any chores since the rooms were occupied or already cleaned, I let my mind drift back to my brother. The more I thought about him, the more I thought that he could be behind one of these doors, the more I realized that I could no longer conjure his face. He would have grown, it having been thirteen years since I had seen his face, but I could not remember his face as a boy.

I had stopped walking, one hand clutching my dress and the other at my mouth, to cover the sobs that I felt rippling under the surface. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, that my brother may have been ripped from me already, without me having even known anything about him.

A door opened and I nearly threw myself against the wall, at a decent distance, and bowed my head as I had always been told to do. There was silence, no movement, but I could feel the presence of the person, the knight, standing infront of me. I wondered if I should excuse myself, or maybe take a peak at the knight. If I met his eyes, would I be able to keep a hold of myself or would I start to tell him of my brother?

"No need to bow to me." I glanced up sharply at the voice, low and soft that I barely heard it, and immediately regretted it. The knight infront of me had long dark hair that fell infront of his eyes, a few braids sticking out, and an array of black markings on his face. The female part of me associated him with the word attractive, however the slave part of me associated him quickly with the word frightening. This association was made more prominant when I noticed that his hand was resting lazily on the hilt of a sword.

I fell further onto the wall, hoping that the support from it would keep my knees from just letting out. He must have recognized that it was fear in my eyes and not awe, for he moved his hand from where it was resting and raised both hands so that the palms were facing me.

"I'm not going to hurt you." I blinked rapidly, trying to will myself to speak or run, whichever came first, but I ended up just pressed against the wall, my hands clutching at my dress as if I could disappear into the folds.

The knight eyed me curiously, his hands still up and facing me. I found myself not as scared, the longer I stared at him. His eyes seemed unmoving, as if it was a mission to make me believe that me meant me no harm. We stayed in our positions for a while longer before he spoke again.

"My name is Tristan. I mean you no harm." He spoke slowly, as if now assuming there was a chance I could not understand him. Tristan, it was a fine name. The female part of me crowed that it fit his appearance, the slave part admitting that he probably did mean me no harm. Arthur had saved me from a potentially brutal beating from Grent, had offered to have his healer knight take a look at my wounds. Surely the knights would take after their leader?

"Beg pardon." My voice came out as a bit of a chirp, as it often did when my nerves were wrapped in bundles and being tossed around. I bowed my head to him before heading out of the hallway as quickly as my feet could take me. Once out of eyesight, I stopped walking as fast as I had been, leaning my forehead against the wall and wincing with the pain that erupted through my back again. How had I let myself get almost literally cornered, made such a fool of myself, and treat the knight so rudely?

I pushed from the wall with that thought. I was rude to Tristan; would he take offense? Would he complain about me to Grent? I hadn't given him my name, and all of the servants wore the same outfits, but I had a distinguishing mark on my cheek thanks to Grent himself.

Torn between wanting to go back to find the knight, to apologize and potentially beg forgiveness, and with wanting to get as far away from the quarters as possible, I was saved when the bell to signal the next meal sounded. I rushed back to the kitchens, wondering how much time had been wasted between breakfast and now if the next large meal was now. Half of the day, maybe more, was gone.

Chauce shot me a look when I entered the kitchens, scolding me and asking if I was okay in the same glance, and then directed me to grab the first tray to bring into the hall. One of the other cooks glared at me, then smirked as I grabbed the tray and made my way towards the doors, this time waiting for the other workers. He must have been one of the workers that enjoyed the treatment I recieved, being Sarmatian.

The knights were seated at the table, with Arthur to the right of Grent again. I placed my tray infront of Grent, trying not to look at the knights, before moving back to the wall while the other workers followed suit. I could feel more than one set of eyes on me. I knew that Grent would be looking at me, as well as probably Arthur after what happened in this very room hours earleir. Then there was probably Tristan, watching me after my strange performance not too long ago. I inwardly cursed at myself for being so foolish as to drawing so much attention to myself in so little time.

Grent snapped twice and all of the testers moved forward, pulling our spoons out. We all tested the food and then wiped our spoons. As I raised the spoon to my mouth with the wine, I realized that it tasted a little bitter. Some of the wine would be left open for too long, gaining that taste after a while. We all moved back to the wall and waited as Grent eyed us all. Right as he was about to touch his on goblet, a few of the testers started to cough and choke, clutching at their throats as they started to fall. I watched in horror, realizing that I was probably next. Grent was furious, yelling as each of the testers besides myself fell down. Was someone trying to kill the knights?

The thought barely registered when I felt my throat begin to close, the contents of my stomach seeming to set fire. I fell to my knees, clutching my neck and willing myself to purge the poison, whatever it was. I could see through the tears that had gathered that all of the other testers were dead, or at the least unconscious. Would that be my fate in mere moments?

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I was pushed to lean back, my head resting on someone's shoulder. I couldn't make out faces or voices, though I could hear multiple people yelling. My hands were grabbed and held to my sides and someone pinned my legs so that I would stop thrashing. Something was poured down my throat, burning as it did. Yet the burning sensation gave way to a cooler sensation, and the fire in my stomach seemed to be doused.

I fought to stay conscious, feeling myself pulling at the hand that was wrapped around my shoulders, but not to get it off of me. I was trying to keep myself busy, to keep myself awake, but I could not. I slipped, and slipped further, until I gave into the dreams that were dancing on the edge of my mind.

In my dreams, for I knew what they were, I could see my brother again. He was thirteen, he was smiling, but his features seemed distorted, as if I was viewing them from under water. I tried to touch his face, but there was nothing there, his image dispersed as if like smoke. Did this mean my brother was dead?

Much like I had been doused with water, I sat up sputtering. My chest was heaving and my stomach felt like I had been throwing up for hours on end. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked around the room. I was in one of the guest chambers, but it did not look lived in so I assumed it was not one of the seven that the knights were housed in.

I slowly stood up, grasping on the furniture to keep from falling over. I made it to the door and turned the knob, grateful when it gave away without trouble. Some of the doors could get stuck if not used very often. I stepped into the hallway and was shocked to see Arthur and another knight, with curly brown hair and the facial hair to match, waiting outside of the door.

"You're awake." I would have mentioned that that much was obvious, but I stayed silent, rubbing my throat.

"How are you feeling?" I turned to face the nameless knight, praying to whatever diety could hear my heathen soul that I would not be punished for actually looking annoyed at the question, before trying to limp down the hall. I had no idea where I was going though and had to stop my leaving.

Grent had always sworn that if there was ever an incident with poison, that I should pray that it kills me because if it didn't, he would. The fear that struck me like the sword had struck my father, in the middle of my chest, caused me to sway backwards. The knight reached forward to steady me before releasing me quickly.

"Dagonet says that you are lucky that he happened to have a simple mixture on him to counteract the poison. We were able to save three others from death. Arthur, does her face look paler now than it had before?"

Both sets of eyes were trained on me, as if ready to jump in case I fainted or swayed on the spot again. However I was still and upright, hands shaking only lightly.

"D-Dagonet?" Arthur eyed his nameless friend before turning back to me, nodding slowly.

"Dagonet, one of my knights." I let myself lean against the wall, shaking more than I had before. They both noticed and Arthur told "Lancelot" to run and get Dagonet, to make sure I wasn't still ill. At hearing that Dagonet would be there, infront of me in mere moments, I fell to my knees before Arthur could grab me. He bent down, raising my head to look into my eyes, asking me over and over if I was okay and if I could hear him. The tears in my eyes may have given him the wrong impression, but I did not speak.

Dagonet... my brother.


A/N: Well there you go, her brother is Dagonet. I've tried to keep you in suspense as to who her brother was and... there ya go!

Also, to my anonymous reviewer on Freedom and Faith, Elena. I want to thank you for your amazingly kind words. Though I do believe that Freedom and Faith was a good story, I'm not so sure it was worthy of such praise. But I thank you, none the less, and I hope that if you ever find this story, that you like it just as much, if not more, than Freedom and Faith. Thank you Elena!

Thanks for reading/reviewing/alerting/favoriting this story/me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!