Page 3 of A Realm of Dark Fury

Drusilla waited for them to leave with a tapping foot, her hands firmly on her hips. She didn’t move until the door closed behind them and their abashed laughter faded. She smiled softly as she turned back to me, her golden eyes sparkling above her rosy cheeks.

“Now, my name is Drusilla. I am to be your maid while you are here.”

I shook my head. “Why would I need a maid?” My fingers clawed into the floor, the feeling of the hard stones unyielding beneath them. The room slowly came into focus. I was in a tower, or a round room at least, with arched windows at three points around me, letting in brilliant sunlight. It was so jarring - expecting death, and instead I was lying in a sun-bathed room on a warm afternoon.

“The King has insisted a princess needs a maid.” Drusilla offered me her arm. “Now come, let’s get you up off this filthy floor and into your room. I’ve drawn you a bath.”

I was tempted, for a fleeting moment, to run. To shove this kind woman into the wall and hope she hit her head against the craggy stone, incapacitating her long enough for me to flee. But as I took her arm, the rush of blood to my head sent stars into my vision, and I swayed as though I was caught in the gale of a winter storm.

I was unarmed and injured. Wherever I was, there were sure to be plenty of guards, which meant escape wouldn’t be possible. Drusilla tutted and fussed as I found my bearings, so sweetly and with such concern, that I felt a stab of guilt at my plan to hurt her. She was a servant, a slave no doubt. She had no part in any of this.

I allowed her to shepherd me to the door, out into a long passageway - heavily guarded, as suspected. The guards watched me curiously as I limped on the arm of the woman who would not stop sucking on her teeth, grimacing with every gasp of pain that left my body.

“Oh, my lamb,” she said softly as I stopped, leaning with one hand on my knee, trying to catch my breath. “I’d heard you Fae healed quickly.”

“We do. I mean, we can… I’m just…” I inhaled deeply through my nose as a wave of nausea washed over me. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

Her brow furrowed. “I certainly hope so.”

We continued along the passageway, keeping a slow pace. Pain shot through my legs with every step, like a thousand needles stabbing me at once. I looked down to see my leathers torn to shreds. This was the first chance I’d had to properly note my appearance. I raised my free hand to see it was covered in blood, congealed, settled between my fingers, caked underneath my fingernails.

Keir’s blood. The last trace of him. The last tangible essence that he’d ever existed. Soon it would be gone.He’dbe gone. I closed my hand, squeezing hard, as though I could hold onto him, imprint that blood on my skin forever. I let out a breathless sob as we stopped walking again, and pressed a hand to the hollow place in my chest that had torn open when Keir died in my arms.

I gritted my teeth to stop the tears flowing, wincing as pain tore through my cheek.

My ear.

My hand flew up to the side of my face, and I felt a patch of gauze. And underneath it? I touched carefully, wincing as I prepared myself. My ear was gone. I ran my fingers further down, over the gash in my jaw, and I clenched my eyes shut as the sting of my filthy hands shot through the wound.

Drusilla took my hand and guided it away from my face. “Now, my lamb, you’ll just get yourself an infection.” She gave me a small smile. “I’m sure there’s a very pretty girl under all that blood and grime.” She squeezed my arm and we kept walking, kept limping together down that endless fucking passageway.

Finally,finally, we reached a door where Drusilla stopped, pushing down an enormous brass handle. It gave way, opening to a grand bedroom, housing a four poster bed dressed with gossamer curtains and thick layers of linens on the mattress. A fire roared in an imposing stone hearth, and there was a large bay window that ran the length of the opposite wall, stained glass depicting angels with enormous golden wings - the Seraphim, of course.

My simple little bedroom back home in Peyrus had not been this ornate.

My home.My chest ached as I wondered what had happened to them all. Had the Velesian forces made their way into the city? My mother. My father. What would Theron do to them?

As we stepped into the room, my feet landed on thick rugs. Even in the throes of the pain, I wanted nothing more than to tear off my shoes and feel those rugs against my bare feet. My shoulders heaved at the thought, at performing such a simple action after months and months of war.

I could hear Keir chuckling.Going soft, jewel? Crying over rugs?I smiled despite myself, dashing my tears away with the back of my hand.

I staggered away from Drusilla’s supporting arm, to an armchair by the fire, and collapsed into it.

“Now, now, My Lady. Let’s get you out of these clothes.” Drusilla rushed over, kneeling before me to undo the straps on my boots.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to get them off,” I told her. “They’re like a second skin by now.”

Her nimble fingers worked up the lengths of the knee high boots, and her eyes flashed upwards briefly as she began to pull one of them from my foot. I winced, my fingers digging into the armchair. The boot stuck to me, several layers of grime and sweat, and all that fucking blood acting like plaster. But Drusilla kept at it, working back and forth gently, easing the shoe from my leg. It still felt as though she was taking off several layers of skin with it.

“I’m sorry, My Lady,” she said as I hissed in a sharp breath.

I bit my lip and shook my head. “Please call me Elara.”

Drusilla laughed out loud. “Now that would not be fitting.” Finally, with an insistent tug, the boot came loose from my aching leg. “I’ve never called any of the ladies I’ve been charged with by their first name.”

“Were any of them prisoners, Drusilla?” I looked down at her through the narrow gaze afforded me as my head remained tipped back.

“You’re a princess, it wouldn’t be right,” Drusilla said softly.