A/N:
I'm really really really sorry for the delay. I'm soooo sorry!!! This is the time of year when evil teachers decide to give their students a heavy load of big projects and tests. One month to go and I'd be updating more frequently!!! Anyway, thank you so much for your AMAZING reviews!!! THANK YOU!!!
Chapter Eight
Second Encounter
Ten whippings. Ten hard, violent, merciless whippings. Ten may have seemed like a low, pointless number to some, but those ignorant fools had yet to experience the whip. To Daria, it felt like an eternity, never-ending. Each lashing brought a new, severe sting that seemed more painful than the previous one. She was at the verge of cowering and losing all her self-strength at the seventh one, but she suddenly remembered that she wasn't the "type." No…she was not going to lose her will to ten blows from the whip.
After the vanishing echo of the final blow, a heavy silence filled the dark library. Daria had her head bowed down, but not a sob escaped her mouth. Antoniette was at the side, with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her pretty lips. Lady Linelle was casually rolling up the blasted whip. The masked man was just…there.
Then Lady's Linelle's voice cut through the silence. "Each time you disappoint me, you will be whipped," she snarled. "And you are not allowed to leave this manor for the next three weeks."
Daria did not answer.
"Release her."
Daria heard footsteps and felt someone touch her wrists. She slowly turned her head to the left and realized that the masked man was unbinding her.
The ropes left her, only to leave raw burns behind. The expression in Daria's eyes dramatically changed from blank to angry as she rubbed them. Then Antoniette stepped forward, receiving a death glare from Daria.
"Despicable wench," Daria hissed.
Antoniette giggled, placing a dainty hand over her mouth. "Oh, Daria," she said sweetly. "You needed to learn your lesson. The amazing whip helped you with that." She held up a bottle with oil in it. She opened it, poured some on her hands, and spread it on Daria's wrists. Daria felt a cool sensation seep through her skin. Was Antoniette doing this to be nice?
"There," the golden-haired girl said, watching with satisfaction as the rope burns began to miraculously vanish. Then she took something out from the brown sack she had been carrying earlier. It was a dress very similar to the one Daria was wearing: plain cotton with a dark blue colour.
Their minds must be really SICK, Daria thought. She wondered if the mother and daughter were even remotely sane.
"Change into this," Antoniette ordered, "and then give me that torn up dress."
Daria angrily snatched the new dress and marched behind a bookcase. She changed quickly and stepped out, hurling her old dress at Antoniette.
Antoniette barely caught it, but despite that, she smiled. "Good," she said. "Now all evidence of this incident has been removed."
Daria called her a bunch of the rudest names in her mind.
"Leave, Daria," Lady Linelle said breezily. "And just to remind you, no one will believe you if you tell this to anyone. They will think you crazy."
Daria glared. "I'll find a way."
One of Lady Linelle's eyebrows shot up. "You can try, hun."
Daria glowered, but said nothing. Then her eyes travelled towards the masked man, who was standing rigidly a few feet away, with his hands clasped behind his back. She wasn't sure if he was looking at her or not, for the mask did its wonders. Who was he? Why was he doing this? Maybe she could get him to confess.
Lady Linelle noticed the way Daria was looking at him. "Don't even think about it," she growled. "Lionel would never betray me."
Daria glowered at the masked man. Then she turned to Lady Linelle. "I'll still find a way."
"Whatever," Antoniette piped up. "Your words don't scare us. Leave, wench. Unless you want another ten whippings."
Terror flashed in Daria's eyes for a split second. Thankfully, the mother and daughter missed it, being drunk and distracted by their evil bliss.
Daria narrowed her eyes. "You just wait," she hissed. She turned to the masked man one last time. He did not speak, but he did move. He nonchalantly scratched his left arm, and when he did, Daria noticed something on his right hand.
A scar. And one that she would never forget, for it was very long and noticeable, stretching diagonally on the back of his hand.
Stupid man, Daria mused. Thank you for giving me a hint on who you are.
Despite the fact that Daria had no scars or wounds on her back, she could still feel the pain from the whippings. She felt as if she had raw wounds on her back. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, she looked, half-expecting to indeed have some.
Of course, she found none. She cursed in her mind. Stupid illegal fairy whip.
She went outside through the kitchen's back door. She found Clarisse washing a bright pink dress, the sleeves of her dress rolled up to her elbows. Soap suds covered her hands and some of her arms.
"Hi," Daria greeted softly.
Clarisse looked up and relief spread all over her face. "I was worried about you, Daria. Where have you been?" she said anxiously.
Daria shrugged. "All over Frell," she replied nonchalantly.
Clarisse gave her a look. "That was a dangerous decision. Was Lady Linelle's voice piercing? She punishes servants by yelling at them right in their faces. It is as bad as whippings, trust me."
This gave such a sudden and startling reaction to Daria. "IT IS NOT!" she roared, shocking Clarisse. "Have you even experienced a whip?!"
"Uh…no," Clarisse replied uneasily. She gave Daria a look. "I'm sure Lady Linelle has sense not to do that, even though I'm sure she is tempted to."
"I have to go," Daria said abruptly, her voice cold and stiff. "I'll see you later, Clarisse."
Clarisse's face was fixed into a deep frown as she watched the sixteen-year-old walk away. When she compared Lady Linelle's yelling with whippings, she was merely using it as an expression. Why was Daria so touchy about that?
She shook her head. That girl had so many conflicts going on, in and out.
She was proud. That she admitted to herself. Yesterday, two very nice people had offered her the chance of a lifetime. To live in comfort and happiness! To have no suffering! But of course, her pride was the main reason for yesterday's attitude.
What am I doing here? I'm asking for more punishment, Daria thought.
She was in the menagerie. But this time, she wasn't there to look at the birds and other creatures. She was there to look for someone. She didn't want to see that someone, but she needed to.
There he is, she thought a moment later, spotting the person she had been searching for.
Prince Jerrold was feeding a centaur, his back turned to her. His hand was held out, offering an apple to the creature, who took it after staring stupidly at it for a few seconds.
Daria took a step forward, but suddenly halted mid-step. Do I really want to talk to him again? She paused. I don't, but I have to. She sighed. Better to get this over with.
She walked briskly towards him, and when she was right behind, she tapped his shoulder. Prince Jerrold wheeled around, and upon seeing Daria's face, he grinned impishly.
Daria decided to ignore his stupid grin. "You're a prince, right?" she asked right away, not bothering to curtsy or merely greet him.
"Last time I checked, yes," he replied.
Daria scowled. "Well," she said stiffly, "since you're a prince, you basically know all the nobles around here?"
"Yep."
"Do you know where Lord Ormond and Lady Gina live?"
A mysterious smile crept up his face. "Maybe."
Daria glared. "Look," she said impatiently, "it's either yes or no."
"Yes, I know them."
Silence.
"Well?!" Daria said later on.
Prince Jerrold gave her a look. "Well, what?" he asked innocently.
Daria closed her eyes. Patience. Patience. He's a damn prince. Don't yell at him if you want to live. Be polite. He's a prince. He can have your neck chopped off in five seconds. Finally… "Please tell me where they live," she said very softly. She hid her clenched fists behind her back.
Prince Jerrold tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Let me see…" he said slowly. He stared off into space, as if he was trying to remember where the couple lived.
Patience, Daria. Do not pounce on him and tackle him to death.
"I don't remember," he said finally.
Daria resisted the strong urge to punch him right on the face. She glowered. "That was two precious minutes of my life gone," she said angrily. "Good day." She turned around, ready to stomp away.
"Wait," the prince said.
His voice sounded so commanding and filled with authority (which he didn't mean) that Daria halted and turned around, giving him a look of impatience. "What?!"
"I will most likely remember if I actually try to get there. It will all come back to me once I find myself on the road…you know, if I do it actively. Why do you want to see them anyway?"
"It's none of your business," Daria said haughtily.
"Fine," he said, surrendering, "since I'm a gentleman"—he ignored Daria's snort at this point—"I will lead you there myself."
"Oh, I feel soooooo honoured," she said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes.
He shrugged. "Well, if you don't want my help—" He was about to walk away.
"Don't!" Daria cried out. Then she clamped her mouth out of impulse, surprised at herself for her sudden outburst. She felt herself blushing.
Prince Jerrold smirked handsomely, which added more to the ruddy shade on Daria's cheeks. He chuckled. "Follow me, my lady," he said.
Daria stared at his back as he walked away. She debated whether to follow him or not. Should she? He was so…annoying. She didn't know if she would be able to stand him for the rest of the hour. But still, he was rather charming…
Stop it! Daria scolded herself. The prince is not charming.
Prince Jerrold turned around, and seeing her still rooted on the spot, called. "Are you coming or not?" he said impatiently.
Daria shook her thoughts out. "I'm coming!" she said angrily. "Stop being so impatient!"
Even though she was screaming at herself not to follow the Kyrrian prince, her feet did not obey.
"So…who are you?"
Daria stared. "Huh?" she asked stupidly.
Prince Jerrold rolled his eyes. "I mean, where do you come from? Who are your parents?"
"A little nosy, I must say," Daria said icily. "It's none of your business."
The two had been walking down the side of a road for the past few minutes, staying clear from horse-drawn carriages. Every three seconds, Daria would make sure that she was more than two feet away from the prince, and Prince Jerrold respected that by pretending not to notice.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Daria didn't respond. At this point, he sneaked a sideway look to observe his companion.
She was pretty. There was no use on not admitting it. She had nice, wavy hair that reached half of her back, and she had a nice complexion that wasn't too pale. And her eyes…they were filled with emotion. Most of the time, when she looked at him, they were full of irritation (which wasn't surprising since they were in a little squabble at those times), but they were also full of…what was it?
Loneliness, Prince Jerrold thought.
Daria sensed his gaze. She turned to him. "What?" she asked irritably.
Prince Jerrold looked away. "Nothing."
They walked on in silence. Daria didn't mind. In fact, she wanted the silence. Less silence meant less acquaintance with the prince.
But the prince did mind. He didn't like the silence, so the wheels in his mind worked out ways to start conversation. But none came. Damn! What happened to his confidence and charm? The one that many idiotic girls swooned at? He frowned and sighed heavily at his uneasiness.
Daria mistook this for a sigh of weariness. "You don't have to come with me, you know," she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "If this is killing you, just leave, your Highness."
"Jerrold."
"Huh?"
"Call me Jerrold."
Daria peered at him. "Why?"
"Because I like being called Jerrold."
"No," Daria said instantly.
"No…?"
"No, I am not going to call you Jerrold, your Majesty."
"Why not? I give you consent to call me that."
"Because I don't want to!" Daria yelled, balling her fists.
The prince started, and so did Daria. Why was she so touchy about this? "Jerrold" was one word less than "Prince Jerrold" or "your Majesty" or "your Highness." She was supposed to be happy because just "Jerrold" would be more convenient. The other titles were such a mouthful.
Daria shook her head. "I'm not comfortable with it," she mumbled under her breath.
He shrugged. "Well…err…okay."
The two suddenly realized that they had stopped walking, and were now standing still on the left side of the road. Funny how they suddenly forgot about the rest of the world during their little name argument.
Suddenly, there was a loud burst of giggles coming from the other side of the road. Prince Jerrold winced. He knew what that meant. He quickly glanced at his female companion. Daria stood there, staring at that giggling someone with a horrified expression on her face.
I'm dead, Daria thought. I'm so dead.
The giggles had come from Antoniette, who was now approaching her and the prince. Antoniette didn't seem to have noticed her; her grey eyes were fixed on the prince, a smile plastered on her face. She crossed the road when it was clear.
"Oh, Prince Jerrold!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around one of his. "What a coincidence!" Her eyes never left him. She seemed to be drinking in all his handsome features.
Daria hoped that she would be able to get away. Miraculously, Antoniette had still not noticed her. She began to inch away, praying that she would not get caught. She wasn't allowed to leave the manor, and if Antoniette saw her now…
"Lady Antoniette," Prince Jerrold said, forcing a smile. "How…nice. You know Daria, of course?" He turned to his previous companion.
STUPID FOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Daria screamed mentally. Now she couldn't get away.
Antoniette started at the name "Daria," but she recovered easily. She turned, and for the first time, noticed her handmaiden. "Daria," she said sweetly, "how…surprising."
Daria stared back, trying not to look scared. She was dead. Antoniette's voice sounded really sweet and friendly, but her eyes…
Her smoky eyes were cold and menacing. They meant trouble.
"How…nice to see you here," Antoniette said quietly. She gazed unblinkingly at Daria.
I. Have. To. Get. Away. Daria wiped her sweaty, cold hands with the skirts of her dress. She could feel coldness rush in her…she was in deep trouble.
Prince Jerrold, on the other hand, was so clueless. He thought that Daria was on a break from her work in the manor. "So…" he said slowly and uneasily, "we must be going, Lady Antoniette."
Antoniette's eyes narrowed for a split second at the word "we." Daria caught that movement, but the prince didn't, for he was busy staring off somewhere, avoiding the clingy girl's (namely Antoniette) eyes. All he wanted was to get away from her and her little giggles. He could still clearly remember what happened in her banquet. He winced inwardly. She actually danced with him four times! How she was able to do it, he was not sure. She was pretty sly. Oh how torturous those four dances were!
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Antoniette call him in a way that made him hate his own name. "Yes?" he said absent-mindedly.
"I'm sure you and Daria wouldn't mind if I came along to wherever you two are going…would you, Jerrold?"
Jerrold? Since when did she start calling him Jerrold?
He cleared his throat and gave Daria a questioning look. However, she stood there with a blank expression, giving him neither consent nor refusal. He sighed. "I…err…suppose," he said finally.
FOOOOOOOOLLL!!!!!!!!!!! Daria thought again. She, however, maintained her aloof manner even though her mind was screaming with rage.
"Wonderful!" Antoniette squealed, clapping her hands excitedly.
"Uh…yeah," the prince said uncomfortably.
Antoniette linked her arms with his, completely ignoring her handmaiden. She flashed a sweet smile. "I'm so glad I ran into you," she said. "I was actually hoping that…"
Daria stopped listening to her mistress as she followed from behind. Thoughts were pouring in, making her feel stressed and worn out. Antoniette is not supposed to know my purpose for this whole thing. She is not supposed to be here, period.
She was staring at the ground all this time, distracted by her thoughts, and when she looked up to shoot the back of Antoniette's head a pointless glare, she saw that the prince was looking back at her, giving her a pleading look. Antoniette was just chatting on and on and looking ahead of the road, not noticing that the prince was not listening to her at all.
Daria laughed mentally at the look on the prince's face. It was a look of someone being tortured to death. She felt a tinge of sorrow for him, but she most of her feelings was of amusement.
"Where are we going?" Antoniette suddenly asked in the middle of talking about how silk dresses looked better on her with pinned up hair, as opposed to flowing hair.
"To the household of Lady Gina and Lord Ormond," the prince said distractedly, missing Daria's death glare.
Antoniette's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" she said. "What for?"
"That," the prince said, "is something that you should ask Daria."
Antoniette pretended that he didn't say that. In fact, she pretended that Daria did not exist, and was nottrailing them from behind, looking like a pathetic fool.
"Anyway," she said shrilly after a short pause, "as I was saying, the fabric of silk dresses…"
Prince Jerrold stopped listening. He just dully walked on with Antoniette's death grip still on his poor arm. Then he looked back, hoping to meet Daria's expressive, blue-green eyes, but the girl was trying to look anywhere but at him.
He sighed. This was going to be one long walk.
A/N:
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's pretty fast-paced, I think. The scenes jump a lot. That's not good. I have to work on that. Anyway, I have a question: If the queen of a kingdom marries the king of another kingdom, what happens to the queen's kingdom when she moves in with the king? Is she still the ruler even if she doesn't live in her land anymore? If you can tell me the answer for that question, that would be really great!! Anyway, please review!