Duke Cortana was escorting many of those Nobles out the door, sweating but chatting away regardless. This included Lady Dells, who left without a single look over her shoulder. Lord Reynald glowered at her back, not nearly as faithful as Duke Cortana. Neither Flora or Vander attempted to leave. Lolita seemed content to stay with them as well, finding herself absorbed in what was happening around the room, but never did a guard approach her to search her.
Satana sat there cheerfully talking with those around him, not risking leaving the group again, and only waiting for his turn to be let outside. The group he was with were motioned to their feet, as they would soon be searched. Flora watched as Santana stood and patted himself down. His palm paused on his side pocket and his eyes widened momentarily.
He backed up in the group and Flora could see him slowly put his hand in his pocket to pull something out and open it. Flora smiled as she watched him realize that what he now held was going to get him into trouble.
She struggled to feel pity for him. He was a terrible person after all, she knew that, and she was sure there were horrors that she had not heard the tales too.
Satana's eyes flicked up to her's, and she winked at him as guards came around and quickly hid the ring again. His eyes were ghostly as he took each jerky step towards the guards. Those in front of him, being searched and released to the freedom outside the bank walls. His actions started to make the guards around him nervous, and one of them raised their sword to him, telling him to smarten up. Though Flora could not fully hear the words from the distance.
Satana eyed the sword and continued forward until he was the next in line. He reached out to say goodbye to the friend in front of him, grabbing the man's shoulder in comfort, but the guard pushed him aside and Satana was unable to get close to the man, and undoubtedly, drop the precious cargo he held.
Satana, raised his hands, his one fist clenched, and a gasp went through the crowd as they watched. Lord Reynald ran over and paused in front of the man, drawing his sword as well with the other guards in the room, a twang echoing through the grand space.
The sound broke Satana's will and Flora saw him toss the ring at Lord Reynald, hitting him in the forehead as he tried to make a run for it through the unoccupied path of broken glass. Lord Reynald cursed and it took ten steps through the shards for the guards to catch him and for the screaming to ensue.
"It's her. It's her. You imposter. You—" Satan swore screaming, his eyes wild as he searched for Flora in the crowd.
Lord Reynald eyes flung to Flora who stayed calmly where she was. He slowly picked up the object that had hit him, and came to Flora. Meanwhile all of the nobles and peasants made a move for the door, nearly stampeding as the guards stood around Santana. Flora lost track of Vander and Lolita around her as the crowd moved, but Oswald came quickly beside her and grasped her arm tightly.
"Do you know the man?" Lord Reynald said to her as he got close.
"We met in a past life," Flora said, confirming his thoughts.
"Do you know what this is?" He asked, holding up the ring. Which was a engraved mark of the royal seal.
"Never seen it on a ring. Very pretty though," Flora said.
Lord Reynald said nothing more and turned away.
"Gag him," came the order, which was quickly done. "Theft from Duke Cortana means death, we can't have you spreading the mischief about can we."
All Flora could hear from Satana was his muffled screams, as the guards took him outside. Lord Reynald returned to they group along the wall shortly after.
"Oswald, I have to go with Duke Cortana and the thief. They are the priority now. We are taking the carriage. Make it back to the castle with her as fast as you can," he said.
Oswald nodded, his grip shifting to the elegant fake binding that sat around her wrists. His other hand firmly rapping back around her arm, holding it like all the other men and women around them.
"See you in a moment," said Lord Reynald before disappearing down the steps of the bank.
Second Chances
Oswald was pushing slowly through the crowd of people that were around the market. His hands grasping her binding tight while her arm was wrapped around his. The crowds were musky without any breeze to take away the scent of unwashed bodies, horses, and exposed sewage drains.
They were walking along the centre of the street at the moment, trying to weave themselves around a large sinkhole rimmed by a fountain that stood in the middle of the square. Beautiful frisky forms of winged horses stood circling around to the fountain, acting like a fence. The water pouring down on their heads from the top as it made its way to the fountain's bottom. Running between their hooves and over their wings.
"Wait here," Oswald said. "I need a moment."
He sat down on the edge of the fountain, forcing Flora to sit with him. As he leaned down to get a fresh splash of water on his face she pulled out a familiar golden hairpin and slipped it under her binding at her wrist. Oswald turned to stand back up, and Flora stood with him. They walked through the last part of the square to the narrow walkway on the other side.
They were constantly starting and stopping again as the weaved around moving carriages until Flora tripped. She slipped her arm out to catch herself and she could feel Oswald yank on her bindings. Which snapped along the shallow tear Flora had cut with the pin that now clattered to the ground between them.
She hit the ground on all fours. Her palms touching the paving stones, barely missing landing in fresh horse dung, and she pushed herself up, springing again amongst the horses and carriages weaving through the market. She could hear Oswald yelling at her as she ran, but all of her focus was on one of the dark alleyways that would lead to her freedom.
She threw herself into an alley and turned behind the first two buildings only to smash into a walled-off yard. She spun around looking at the walls and the other side. It was a dead end, and she ran with her palm along the wall, kicking off her slippers while she ran. Trying to find any hold that she could climb up. There were none.
By the time she came around to the entrance of the corridor, Oswald was at its end, huffing and puffing. He saw her running at him and fumbled for the sword at his belt. She carried her momentum though and pushed his other arm away, flying past him back into the crowd.
The crowd was a safer space than the dead end alleyways she though, and she pushed against the people crossing every which way. She was clear for a moment and spun on the spot, looking for a way out of the market into hiding. The first thing she saw was the towers castle, so she immediately headed in the opposite direction.
She could hear woman and men screaming behind her. As well as a guards whistle being blown. She hoped Oswald had pulled his sword out. Then the guards would be after him and her chance at freedom could be truly real, but whatever was happening behind her, she kept her gaze straight ahead.
She was almost along the gate entrance to the market and grabbed at the stone with one arm. Her momentum carried her around the corner. Only to have a running pony knock the wind out of her and lay her flat on the ground as it ran by, its owner chasing it in panic.
The owner kept running, ignoring Flora who had no wind left in her as she tried to pull herself. Her dress knotted up with the boxes around her. Only to feel the pull of cuffs attached to her wrist.
"I'm sorry," Oswald said, pulling her arm up. "I can't let you leave yet— I have orders—"
Flora could barely hear him as he pulled her back towards the castle, stumbling along the stones. Barely watching where she was going as she stepped into horse dung in her bare feet. Oswald's grip was firm and they moved continuously until they passed under the main castle gates. Oswald spoke a word to the men stationed there, and as they continued walking. Flora could hear the gate come rolling back down, breaking her off from the outside world as she left the unending heat to hide in her relatively cold cell.
Still Breathing
She flexed her hand between tearing at her bread that Oswald had re
placed the slop with. Making sure not to lose any morsel while keeping them limber. She had started to feel her ribs more firmly through her skin as the lack of nutrition took hold, and if the truth were told, it scared her. With the lack of Lady Dells's company and no freedom to steal food, her stomach rumbled more than not. Even her distractions were fading as got lost in the monotony of the dragon book. The author had gone on and on about how there were less dragons in the world not that elementals had vanished. Flora felt as if she had read the same thing over and over again.
She had been keeping her body limber, doing what exercises she could in such a cramped room. Careful to keep her heavy breathing down so that dear Oswald wouldn't know what she was up to. She wore only her old pants, boots, and a breast band. The heat was too much for her, but she wanted her boots on as it always made her relax when her knives were closer to her.
"Hey Oswald," Flora shouted through the wood door, as she took a momentary break. "Want to treat me like a Lady and get me something to soothe my boredom?"
"I treated you like a Lady when I didn't tell Lord Reynald you made a run for it," Oswald said.
"Is that so he wouldn't get mad at you or me?" barbed Flora.
"What is it you had in mind?" Oswald said ignoring her second question with his usual response when she asked him, every few hours. She had had to forgive him, the loneliness would have been too much otherwise.
"Oh I dunno," Flora said again thinking of a new response she hadn't yet used, "well you could just leave you know. I could really work with that," she joked.
Flora knew he was smiling on the other side and moved back to the ground to do pushups, as quiet as ever. She wasn't sure if being quiet that mattered, but she felt better with him not knowing what sort of condition she was in. It would work to her advantage, or so she hoped, even if it had not helped her in the market. She had had to forgive him for that. He had brought her bread, so they were even.
She heard the footsteps coming down the hallway before the door opened. She rolled along the dirt floor to her shirt laying there, small stones popping under her weight, to sit against the back wall, as if she had been there all day.
Lady Willa entered, hair pulled back as tight as ever, a lit candle flashing golds across the wall held in her hand. "Up you get," she said, turning around again, leaving the door open behind her. Flora dusted the dirt off her calf and anxiously stood, peering along the hallway past the door. Oswald was still there, but Lady Willa was continuing to walk along the hallway, her skirts floating behind.
"Come on now girl, put a shirt on," Lady Willa said daintily over her shoulder as she turned a corner.
Flora didn't know what else to do but follow as she skirted around Oswald while dragging on her shirt. He took an almost gentlemanly step back as she passed, then followed as fair a distance, as she hurried to catch up with Lady Willa.
Lady Willa ventured down corridors of prison doors Flora hadn't seen before. It was a maze of the same door repeating over and over, corridors upon corridors, with nothing that Flora could see to tell the doors apart. Flora wondered how many of them were filled with prisoners along this path.
"Has anyone ever been forgotten in here?" She asked. "It seems like it would be hard to keep track."
"None of your business is it," Lady Willa said.
"Are you helping me escape Willa?" Flora joked as she walked behind her, swallowing any inch of hope.
Lady Willa turned around a lifted one eyebrow slowly.
"I mean Lady Willa," she said while Lady Willa turned back and carried on.
Flora gulped and hustled to catch up. "Not that I am thinking of escaping," she said.
"I would be surprised if you were not," Lady Willa said, ending the conversation as they approached an open cell door.
Lady Willa stopped abruptly beside it and Flora nearly ran into her but stopped an inch from stepping on the edge of her skirt with her weight on her toes. Looking back at her from the room beyond, was Thren and Dawson, both chained by their necks and limbs to the far wall.
Flora gasped and gazed at Lady Willa who only stared stiffly at the two boys. Without waiting for permission. Flora rushed into the dark and crusty room, jumping over a large flattened snake on the floor. Before she could put her hand out to touch them, the boys rushed to great her, pulling against their chains. Their necks rubbed raw from the contact of the metal.
"You are still alive," Flora said, her voice breaking. Though Thren was still ghastly white. Too pale for Flora's comfort.
As Flora took them in, giving a fierce hug to Thren before reaching out a hand to Dawson, who grasped it in his own callused palm as chains dangled from it. The chains kept Thren from wrapping his own arms around her as they sat at his sides.
"Well, aren't you looking all shiny and pink!" Dawson joked. Relief shining in his eyes as he saw her. "It's the best thing all day seeing a fresh face with intact fingers."
Flora looked at Dawson's other bandaged hand. "You are some different kind of human Dawson. It's a miracle you can still joke," Flora paused "How have you been handling it?"
Dawson shrugged. "Nah, we are all good little sister, don't need to worry about us, keep yourself in one piece. We can handle ourselves in here, can't you see the dead snake?"
"No need—" Flora started, looking back at Thren who was stone still. She realized then that he hadn't hugged her because he couldn't, as his hands were not changed to the wall but together, so nothing held them back. He was still, not even really acknowledging her presence. He stood like a pillar. Emotionless and staring at Lady Willa outside the door.
"What are they doing with you?" He asked slowly, his voice raspy like he had not had water for days, his eyes laid deep in his sockets. "Why did they decide to torture Dawson? What are they forcing you to do?" He paused again. "How are you out and walking?" He leaned back in the chains, the tension dropping down his own neck as he backed off. Backed away from her.
"Miss Faodail. Times up," Lady Willa's no-nonsense tone had Flora backing up from her brothers, unsure of even how to answer Thren's questions as he was acting so odd. She fidgeted, wondering that if she lingered, more trouble would come to them. "Out of the cell. We have work to do."
"I'll see you again," Flora promised, hesitating in front of Thren, then reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. He flinched this time when she laid her hand there, and she could feel his bones poke beneath.
"How exactly do you plan to do that Flora?" Thren said, the skepticism rumbling from his throat as he moved away
"I don't know," Flora said and rushed in for a quick hug with both her brothers. Thren was tense, but at least let her hug him, she moved in to quick for him to do otherwise and Dawson gave her a bear hug as chains rattled, ignoring his own injuries
"Take care of him, Dawson," Flora whispered into his ear as she hugged him.
"I'm trying, but the bastards stubborn...they have done more to him than me," Dawson said before leaning away.
Lady Willa ordered Oswald to get Flora away from her brothers, and he gently grabbed Flora's hand dragging her from the cell, and through the corridors.
Flora felt torn as the war inside her began. Relief that they were alive. Despair, that they didn't know why they were there. Though above all, confusion as to what they hell they had gotten themselves into.
Stiffening Spines
They were in Lady Willa's room. Just the two of them, though she could hear someone else rummaging through objects in one of the attached rooms. The light from the many windows along the wall created no shadows within the gold and evergreen room. A large dark ebony four-poster bed took up most of the space while the walls were artfully hung with landscapes and designs painted onto the walls themselves. There was a faint breeze coming through the room hitting Flora's cheek that helped her wake up,
"I know we have attempted to clean you up. But if Lord Reynald is going to use you for his games we might as we will make you look good enough to die for. I thought we would start a
t the top, with the hair, and work our way down," she said with a stiff smile. "But first you need to wear something less disgusting before I let you sit anywhere in here, there is a gown on the bed. Put it on."
Flora proceeded to do so. The gown was simple tan, almost yellow thing, without the finery that had been in the gowns she had worn before, and Lady Willa insisted she also put on the slippers. She felt disarmed taking off her boots but did so anyway. When finished Lady Willa motioned for her to sit in front of a large mirror and desk that held an assortment of beauty tools.
"You will get them back, the gown won't survive your cell and I am rather fond of it," Lady Willa said as she looked at Flora's boots.
Lady Willa then picked up a brush and attempted to run it along her hair, quickly reaching a knot that yanked Flora's head back with a gasp of pain. "Apologies Flora," Lady Willa said, setting down the brush and running her fingers through Flora's hair to attack the mess. It was much more soothing than the brush and Flora found her anxiety easing as Lady Willa's fingers worked around her skull.
Flora had a hard time keeping her eyes from dropping with emotional exhaustion and looked around the room blinking her eyes, willing herself to pay attention to her surroundings. She noted the assortment of cosmetics, sewing kits, and pins on it, and soon saw some small paintings along the desk where she sat. It was of two girls, one who had a darker complexion than even her brother Perry.
"Why are we here?" Flora asked,"my brothers and I."
"I cannot say," Lady Willa said.
"But you know?" Flora asked.
"Possibly," Lady Willa said.
After a few moments, where the only sound Flora could hear was the coarse pull of the brush as it moved through her hair once again, and Flora spoke up. "Who are you to the Lord Reynald?" She asked.
Lady Willa stopped brushing her hair, the tines stuck in Flora's curls, and looked a Flora fiercely in the mirror with pursed lips.
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