by Allysa Hart
I memorized every step she took, burning the video of her trek into my brain for the rest of eternity. At some point I remembered to rescue my charred loaf from the oven, immediately returning to watch after dumping it in the trash. I sat there for what seemed like hours. The sun began to set in the sky just as she vanished behind the stone walls, and disappeared from my view, maybe forever.
Thssshhh!
The whip cracked through the air and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before another strike landed on my naked back. Lately, it was always this way during a training session.
“Focus!” she screeched. “You can do better, you are not focused.”
“Yes, my queen. I’m sorry,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice from cracking. If I cried, it would only anger her further.
“You will be sorry if you don’t get your shit together and master that spell. A three-year-old could memorize those words! Go again.”
I closed my eyes and went to my secret place. The one where I could lie on the large rocks at the edge of the sandy beach and only hear the squawking of the seagulls and the waves crashing in the distance. I didn’t know why, but the beach was the only place where I felt free.
Taking a deep breath, I refocused and forced myself to concentrate on reciting the words of the spell once more. Before I could manage more than a few words, a searing pain slashed across my shoulders, and the thoughts were ripped from my head.
“You were not focused on your task, girl. Stop living in your dreams and see what is right in front of you. If you can’t do that, you will never be a proper witch, and I will have wasted years of training time on you.”
It was always the same. I would never be a proper witch like her, and I was a waste of her precious time. Never mind the fact that I didn’t even know why she was training me or what she wanted out of it. Asking was fruitless and only led to more lectures on obedience and trust.
I didn’t want to learn spells, not the kind she was teaching me, anyways. I wanted to learn to cast the spells that helped people; ones that healed the sick and fed the poor villagers living at the base of the castle. I wanted to conjure toys for the little kids who were forced to spend their days working for their families’ survival.
I did not dare voice those desires though; that was a mistake I had only made once. The queen had been beside herself with anger and cried all day, reminding me of all she had done for me and the rest of the people living here. She went on and on about how wrong I was about her brand of magic and promised that if I could just learn these simple things and follow her lead, I would have everything my heart desired. All I had to do was stop thinking for myself and trust her. Why was that so hard?
As often happened, I begged to be beaten for my insubordination, but I was not even granted that luxury.
Instead, I was sent to my room alone and ignored for days. No matter how many times I apologized or how many tasks I completed for her without being asked, I was left with only my own thoughts to keep me company. The rest of the family had not been permitted to speak to me either, which meant even my best friend, Ruthie, avoided me like the plague. Whenever we were in the same room, I would catch eye contact with her for a split second before she would turn and bolt. I knew why she did it, and I didn’t blame her in the least, but it had still hurt.
Rejection of that caliber is the kind of pain that doesn’t go away for a long time. It lives inside you and grows into guilt, shame, and fear. The fear was the worst. I didn’t want to lose my home and my family because of my stupid little girl dreams.
“My queen, your assistance is needed in the courtyard.” The queen’s footman Rod’s deep baritone voice jolted me out of the darkness.
“What is it now?” she barked, rubbing her temples, whip still firmly grasped in her right hand.
“An arrival, my queen.”
Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her lips. “Oh good, I have been waiting for this one.” Her voice was sweet and melodic for a split second before she turned her attention back to me. “Ariana! Clean up this mess and take the book to your room. We will continue this conversation when you decide to stop wasting my precious time.”
“Yes, my queen.” I knew better than to argue. Once she dismissed you, there was no point. Plus, an arrival meant she would be busy for quite some time. She doted on the new girls for days before life went back to normal. That was fine with me. It would take me that long to heal and give me time to practice. No one knew how or why the queen chose the girls she did. She would simply write a book and send it with Rowena to deliver. Sometimes the girls came right away; sometimes it took them a day or two, but they always came.
I waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before leaving my kneeling position on the slate floor. I was stiff and sore and dreamed of the days she would allow me to use the throw rug. This was just another one of her tools to get me to focus on my craft. By removing comforts, she was removing distractions. By using punishment, she was giving me incentives to become better. I wanted to be better. I wanted to be strong and confident and regal, just as she was, but the journey was a tiring one, and I felt as though I would never reach my destination.
Not every day was like this. There were times she would rave about how her hard work was paying off, and she would praise the progress I was making. She would wrap me in her arms and rock me and sing her beautiful songs. Those were the moments I lived for. With every passing day, those praises grew further and further apart. My training was more difficult and rigorous than ever before, and I simply was not rising to the occasion. I needed to work harder to earn her love and to prove my devotion to my queen. It was only then that I would feel truly content and happy.
Moving slowly under the pain of the whipping, I collected my things and made sure the training area was spotless before leaving for my room. My body hurt and my head was pounding. All I could think about was fresh air and crashing waves at the beach outside the castle grounds. We were rarely allowed to leave, but an arrival meant she would be too busy to notice as long as I made it back before dinner. My heart lightened at the thought. Maybe I could even get Ruthie to go with me, and we could have a rock skipping contest.
“Dammit, Ari.” Ruthie’s voice rang out from behind me and I cringed. I had forgotten to close my shirt which meant she saw the strikes of displeasure I had earned.
“I’m fine,” I lied, continuing to my room.
“Fine my ass,” Ruthie muttered. “You have broken skin, Ari. What did you do this time?”
Broken skin would explain the burning sensation, I thought with a sigh. “I wasn’t focused enough. I’m never going to get this spell right.”
She followed behind me and went into my bathroom as I put my books away. I knew what she was doing, so I followed her in and sat down at my vanity.
Ruthie was a nurturer. She didn’t like to see any of us hurting or sad and went out of her way to keep everyone happy the best she could under the circumstances.
She finished rummaging in the cabinets and came to stand behind me holding a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a handful of cotton balls. “This is going to sting a bit,” she warned gently.
I shrugged my shoulders and let her tend to my wounds. It did sting, but I was certainly used to it. I was surprised at how many places my skin had torn. The queen was usually much more careful. She did not like to leave lasting marks because they reminded her of how she was forced to punish me, and it made her feel like a failure. The queen did not like to feel like a failure.
“Maybe I can help you practice,” Ruthie offered.
I shook my head. The taxing session had worn me out, and the thought of continuing to train, even with Ruthie’s help, left me feeling mentally and physically drained. “I can’t think anymore today, Ruthie. I was considering a walk down to the water. If you feel like joining me, I wouldn't mind the company.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head sadly. “I’m grounded.”
I nodded, knowing
how hard that was for her. Ruthie was a sensitive soul, and years of life here at the castle had not managed to change that fact. She could not handle the queen’s displeasure, no matter what form it came in.
“I can stay in and help you make dinner,” I suggested, knowing full well the offer was one she would decline, for a multitude of reasons.
“You will not come near the kitchen while I’m cooking. That will just cause me more trouble, and I would like to be ungrounded before next century.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at how accurate that statement was. I was just as hopeless in the kitchen as I was with magic lately.
“You go walk and clear your head, and maybe we can recite spells after dinner.”
“Sounds thrilling,” I deadpanned.
“Well, you’re never going to get it if you don’t practice. At least I won’t be wielding a whip.”
We both went silent before bursting into a gale of laughter. Ruthie was so afraid of the whip that the idea of her touching it was laughable, but the vision of her swinging it was downright hilarious.
“I suppose you’re right.” I stood, closed up my shirt, and kissed her on the cheek, laughing when she blushed. “I don’t know what I would do without you, bestie.”
“Scar. You would scar.”
She was right. I was often too ashamed to look at my own wounds, let alone tend to them.
A tsking sound came from the doorway, and before I even looked to see who it was, I knew it had to be Rowena. She got joy from the fact that I had let the queen down. She was mean-spirited and hated me with a fiery passion. I had tried to like her and be kind to her, but it had never done any good. She was determined to hate me. The feeling was mutual at this point.
I turned to see Rowena grinning. “I don’t know when the queen will figure out that you will never be who she is grooming you to be.”
“Get out of my room, Row.”
“Shut up!” Rowena snapped, glaring at me. “I just came to get Ruthie. Her majesty needs her to tend to the new girl.”
I watched the war in Ruthie’s eyes as she glanced back and forth between me and Rowena. She didn’t want to leave me alone, but she knew better than to make the queen wait. It would make her look bad and that was simply not acceptable, especially in front of new people.
“Go, Ruthie, I can take care of myself.”
“Thanks.” She nodded with a sigh of relief, and rushed from the room at Rowena’s heels.
Left alone, I jumped off the bench to get away from the mirror. It was too hard to look at myself.
The ocean breeze wiped the stress away the minute I stepped outside the castle walls. Salty air filled my lungs, and the sound of the water drew me toward the sea. I skipped to the stairway that led down to the beach, but I didn’t actually take the stairs. I never did. They were boring and predictable; I had enough of that in my life. Instead, I continued a few hundred feet to the rocky slope and chose my footing carefully as I climbed down the large stones. One false move and I could tumble down the unforgiving stones, but that had never happened, and by now, my path was almost as predictable as the stairs. One rock before I got to the bottom, I kicked off my shoes and jumped as high and as far as I could, landing in the hot sand. Wiggling my bare toes, I enjoyed the warmth as it climbed up my bare legs. I dug in each foot before falling to my butt. Lying down would have been my preference, but the fresh marks on my skin still stung physically and emotionally.
The feeling of being watched washed over me, giving me the chills. I turned toward the castle expecting to see Rowena standing in her bedroom staring at me with discontent. It happened often. She hated me with a deep-seated passion, and she did nothing to hide it. She craved the attention I was given but lacked the magical abilities the queen looked for in her pupils. I felt sorry for her and often wished I could give her all my magic. I sucked at it, and I would love to be free of the pressure of spells and training sessions, and the knowledge that no matter how hard I studied, I would never live up to the queen’s expectations.
No one was visible in the windows, so I turned my attention back toward the crashing waves and refocused on the sand beneath me, but I could not quell the thoughts of inadequacy running through my brain
Worthless. The word played over and over in my head. The queen had only said it once, a few days prior, but it had lingered. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop its incessant nagging in my brain.
“Dammit! Shut up!” I cursed out loud to myself. The beach was supposed to be my happy place, the place where none of the yucky words or thoughts were allowed to follow. Perhaps it was the physical pain that wouldn’t grant me the escape I so badly craved. I got up and dusted myself off. Maybe a walk would help.
Setting off down the shore, I did all I could to find a moment of peace. Counting the gulls, timing my breath with the waves, and splashing in the cold water failed me. I took off running down the beach as hard as I could. I needed more distance from my problems. The further I could get, the better I would feel. That was what I told myself. I ran until my legs and lungs both burned with fatigue, pushing myself until I felt like I would pass out, and then pushing some more. Finally, when I was far from view of even the tallest tower of the castle, I let myself crash, and not a moment too soon. The second I stopped moving, my legs gave out underneath me, and I fell to my knees, dropped my head into my hands, and let the dam break. At least none of the family would be able to see me falling apart.
I watched the clouds drift by as my cries slowed, wishing I could float up into the sky and just disappear. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together, readying for my trek back to the castle. My heart was heavy in my chest. This outing was not what I had hoped for, and I had been gone far longer than I’d intended with nothing to show for it but the probability of a severe punishment later. From the looks of the sun, I had already missed lunch, and if I didn’t get a hustle on, I would miss dinner as well. I collected my shoes from where I’d left them in front of the rocks and opted for the stairs. My legs felt like jelly from running in the sand, and my back ached where the whip had left its mark. I was suddenly exhausted and the idea of having to face another punishment made my eyes fill with weary tears.
I pulled open the heavy doors and was immediately met by a smirking Rowena.
“The queen wants to see you,” she snarled smugly.
“Yeah, I figured,” I huffed as I walked past her, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing me get upset. Slowly, I trekked up the steps to the queen’s floor. Her room was on the fourth floor, but we were not permitted to use her elevator. I counted each step, as I always did when I knew I was going to be facing a very unhappy queen.
Tiptoeing quietly to the door, I crossed my fingers, hoping beyond hope that she would be ‘too busy to deal with the likes of me,’ a phrase she threw at me often lately. It didn’t appear that I would be having any such luck today. The door was open a tiny crack, and I knocked lightly before peeking inside. Nothing could have prepared me for the scene I witnessed. I blinked twice, and shook my head slowly from side to side. The queen’s crown sat atop a hat stand next to her vanity. I had never seen her without it, I realized. She wore it constantly, even to sleep. I stared at it, a familiar feeling of nostalgia filling me from the inside out. Frowning, I pushed the door open a smidge wider, searching for the queen herself.
She wasn’t there. Instead, sitting at her vanity was a monster. There were no other words to describe the creature I was looking at. Gone was the perfect form, flowing hair, and golden sun-kissed skin. In its place was a large gray-blue blob, covered in rubbery tentacles. Her eyes, though, they were the queen’s eyes. Cold, smug, and unforgiving. Her head jerked up, and she met my gaze in the mirror. Her jaw dropped wide, and she fumbled, scrambling to get up. I saw her grab for the crown on the side of the vanity, and turn to rush toward me. When she placed it atop her head, she instantly transformed back into the flawless woman I had always known. Without eight legs, she moved quickly, lung
ing for me, making as if to grab my ear, but I was faster. A blood-curdling scream erupted from my lips as I ran down the corridor, taking the stairs, two at a time. Tears stung my eyes, and my heart pounded in my chest. Blood seemed to whoosh in my ears, and the walls and corridors were unrecognizable blurs. Nothing made sense, and all I knew was to flee. I had never run so fast in my life. I didn’t stop to catch my breath until I was safely off the castle grounds.
The scream ripped through the silence of the garden like a war cry, and I jumped to my feet, running to the road. I very rarely left the safety of my cabin; only a few people had seen me in over two years. But this scream grabbed me. I moved without thinking, and stood in the middle of the main road, listening as it continued tearing through the peaceful twilight. It came from above, but it was obvious that it was moving toward me, even as the shrillness of it died off, replaced with a pregnant silence.
I stood there and waited. The form that came barreling toward me seemed to move at lightning speed down the hill. It was a young woman. I could see a pair of thin scraggly legs peeking out from the fabric of a shapeless raggedy dress, and my breath hitched in my throat. It was one of the queen’s minions. It wasn’t until she tripped over her own feet, stumbled, and landed in a heap at mine that I saw it was Ari.
“Princess Ariana,” I breathed, stunning myself as the words tumbled from my mouth. My voice had returned. There was no time to question it, or even to rejoice. I needed to make sure the princess was okay.
Slowly, she pulled herself to standing. Her face was a mask of confusion that surely matched my own, and it was easy to see she was in fight or flight mode. Her hands curled into fists in front of her, and she looked to be one wrong move away from bursting into tears.
“I’m no princess,” she scoffed, picking up the hem of her worn dress and holding it out as evidence. Then she looked up, and this was it, the moment of truth. More than likely, the moment she took one look at me, she would run away screaming again.