Chapter 3: Shadows of my Thoughts
"Saelind, the queen is expecting her breakfast!"
Ignoring that morning greeting I tried to move about the kitchens; fogged with the breaths of servants and ever occupied with their never-ending banters and attempts to please the stomachs of royalty. After quite the struggle with the masters of cooking I found myself a small place at the end of the long spread table where a multitude of hands danced randomly about.
"The queen has taken an elvish lover I hear."
A smirk tugged at my lips with the anticipation of the bountiful information about to pass from ignorant tongue to the other.
Razar, one of the oldest servants graced with the tender aura of a mother and cursed with the temper of an insolent child was quick to reply.
"It can not be lassie, Tis but the work of your imagination, aye tis folly I say to walk about spreading such utter nonsense, no no no the queen is married and would not conduct herself as such, watch what that witless tongue of yours lets lose, one of these days..........one of these days.......!"
She finished with an insanely quick shake of her head that would have rendered a youth light-headed.
But the grey hairs dancing about Razar's time etched features were not enough to silence all tongues.
Two younger servants sitting close drew their heads together and started discussing their own thoughts of the situation successfully reaching numerous critical conclusions making the two equivalently eligible to ruling court discussions, or so they thought!
- "I hear elves have great prowess as lovers."
-"oh well they should have, considering all their charms and their age"
-"but why would you think the queen would do that? Wouldn't that mean trouble?"
-"Power not trouble deary, with elves as her supporters she would have all she wants"
-"All she wants?"
The voices turned into low whisperings and ended with a mutual nod from both maids. I had the information I needed, the exact amount I needed.
I headed for my rooms as sunset neared. The weight of what I felt I had to do making my every step heavy, heavier than shackled feet with burdened souls.
Every step added to the wild beatings of my heart and in the midst of it all I had to stop myself from laughing insanely at my helplessness.
Ten minutes past seven struck and a cold blade struck at my throat drawing a thin line of blood that oozed down my neck mixed with tears I could not stop.
His hands crept up my bodice until they reached the blood at my neck.
He traced the blood and started marking my own face with the blood drops.
I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the face half hidden by shadows.
"Do you not like my face wench? Or is it too marred for your taste?"
His low guttural laugh mixed with the own ravings of my heart as I tried to move to my hands.
"Larnach?" I asked in wheezes trying to support myself against the cold stone walls while my hands kept slipping from the hot liquid on them.
He looked down at my crumbled form, turned his head to the side and spat to mark his presence.
"Our Lord expects work. You do well to remember my name."
I could still feel his calloused hands slipping the parchment into my clenched fists before he left me to the shadows of my thoughts.
"Patience is a virtue of weaker souls.
Aimless rumours never delivered thrones.
I expect nothing less than the service we agreed upon.
Stray from the road I marked and you will see no more of my kindness.
Ere the next moon rises I wait for a crimson horizon."
Dread filled my soul at the realization of what I had tangled myself into, what I so willingly embraced only to have it claw my heart out. Minutes passed me by as I tried to piece together the images of the roads offered. I could vaguely see the trail of blood on both yet one ended in screams and the other in cold silence; Ah yes I am a creature to favour cold silence.
Time awaits none and before each morning the night must be gone.
The queen looked up from the pile of paper, visibly finding my presence somewhat unexpected. "I thought you were ill. Razar was clearly shaken this morning, muttering indistinguishable explanations and apologies on your part."
I bowed my head in a gesture of apparent remorse and hidden pain as memories flooded back, breaking through every shield I thought impenetrable: Crawling on all four, clawing on Razar's door, lying on the floor with glazed eyes, hearing her panicked voice and feeling nothing at all.
"I am dreadfully sorry your highness. I am a bit ill-disposed."
"Ill-disposed! Aye, you do seem deathly pale. You are relieved of your duties."
The calmness of her voice washed poisonously over me. Whether she meant it in good will or bad I knew not but I felt inexplicable guilt and consequent anger.
"Thank you, your highness." I whispered while nervously playing with the scarf around my neck
I found a small place under the library window and started piling stones in my lap. Stone after stone I threw at the innocent inhabitants of the birch tree in front.
Nature is always a remarkable source of amusement especially when one lacks energy or feels particularly ill-disposed.
"I do not appreciate such hostility near my gardens." I stood up facing the raven haired menace.
"I am sorry your lordship I didn't feel that my actions reflected hostility."
Erestor looked menacingly at me as he closed the shutters. In reaction I picked up more stones and angrily threw them at the tree perfectly aware of how my presence upset the tranquillity of the elvish surroundings. My plan was slowly approaching failure and I had not thought of an alternative. It was in my silent musings that I determined to find myself a position in the library and the key was in lord Erestor's hands.
His hand stopped mine as I was throwing another one of the stones and ineffectively throwing a piece of my residing anger.
Eyes aflame, he looked down into my eyes perhaps trying to warn me of the consequences of further transgression. A breeze picked up and his hair tickled my face. The smell was too sweet, the hands too gentle, the eyes too fierce, the beauty too radiant.
I snatched my hand away and rubbed it in a false display of pain. A display that would have fooled anyone according to my past experiences, but then again my past experiences were never with the elf kind.
He took a step backwards, a perfect placid mask on his handsome face. "What is it you want?"
At that moment I had to weigh my words very carefully. If I tell him the truth then he might act on his own whim and would most probably deny me entrance. If I tell a lie he would obviously sense it and my credibility would plunge into oblivion.
"I want to work in the library."
"For a human that is an exceedingly odd request. You may work under my charge."
That was strangely unproblematic.
