Dove.
The queen is pressed against the floor in front of me, the metal shinguard of a soldier pressed against her back in front of me. Her face is strained, clearly in pain, but dignified. Her blonde tresses, like mine, are a tangled mess down her back.
Erik's blue eyes are cold and malicious, a matching set for his crooked smile.
"My queeeen" he taunts, bowing with a flourish, "you'll grant me your daughter's hand" he finishes with a demand. My breath is caught in my throat.
"I won't" she says back to him, soft but firm, struggling to take in air. The soldier presses harder and I hear a crack. I think she's broken another rib. I see her start to recoil but she's stuck in place and unable to guard her side.
I feel a firm hand softly shaking my shoulder and then I can hear myself scream. Then I remember to open my eyes. It's Raven. She's looking down on me with.. concern? I'm not sure how sincere it is.
"Are you okay?" I hear her ask, her hand on my shoulder is hot and damp, like she'd just gotten out of a bath.
I shake my head no, not trusting my voice not to crack. She gives me a sad smile, acknowledging my pain.
I compose myself.
"Is there any way out of here?" I ask when I trust my throat not to betray me.
Another sad smile.
She points up, "You would have to ride a dragon to get out of here, the Aviary is impenetrable" and then she points down and shakes her leg, "...I've tried to leave before, I'm lucky they didn't do worse."
I digest the words for a second and then I can't think of what to say next so I don't say anything at all.
Raven tries to fill the silence, "Are you hungry?"
It feels weird to have a choice, but my stomach speaks for me with a grumble before I have a chance to answer. Raven gives me a shaky smile.
"Okay, I'll get something to eat. Stay here, I'll be back in a few minutes." She assures me easily before pulling on her clothes and then slowly walking out of the room. Where else did I have to go? I was all broken leg and flayed raw.
Raven.
The hallway outside the baths is empty this early in the morning but that still doesn't stop me from walking as quickly and as quietly as possible.
I make myself small.
Some of the rooms I pass aren't empty, I can hear the moans and the whimpers and I thank whatever god was listening that I'm not in one of them.
I don't exhale until I smell the kitchens. The worn down driftwood door easily gives with a light push of my right hand.
The cook doesn't look up when I enter but her firm voice acknowledges that I'm there, "Raven breakfast isn't for two more hours". I give my sweetest smile, "The old bird has me watching the new girl... she's supposed to get the best of everything."
At that she looks up. Her gold eyes flash and she looks up, taps her left shoulder and then points her chin down. "She doesn't deserve anything." The cook spits.
"The old bird says, best of everything." I enunciate each word a second time. She grumbles but finally starts putting together a basket, "fine."
I sigh. The new girl was polarizing. The madame loved her, the chef hates her, who's next?
A minute later the basket is full of nice smelling foods and I'm on my way back to Dove. I pass a few girls I don't recognize in the hall and realize that it was a larger than normal haul of women this time.
Two steps into the hall I hear him. "Where's the girl? Bring her to me you twat" he howls at the madame. I nearly drop the basket when I break out into a run, my lame leg slowing me down.
To her credit, I hear her answer firmly back to him, "She's occupied, but pigeon is available." While I flee, holding my breath, tears running down my cheeks. My heart is pounding in my chest. I hear his shouts echoing down the corridor until I push into the baths and shove the door shut behind me. For a second I think he saw me, he sensed me and the fear grips me deep in my belly that he might chase me down to claim me again. That man who takes pleasure from pain.
It takes me a whole three minutes before I exhale. Dove looks at me with questioning vibrant green eyes and my voice catches again in my throat. I didn't realize how extraordinary they were, a deep green ring that fades into a more vibrant center with gold flecks speckled throughout. They look almost magical.
I offer up the basket in my hand with what I hope is a smile and she tries to smile back but her skin is still tight from her injuries.
I walk over to her and place the basket down on the floor. After fiddling with the nob under the table she's laying on I manage to prop up the top half so that she's in an almost sitting position. I cringe at her sharp intake of air and hope that none of her wounds have torn open... but I also hope they do, the longer she takes to heal, the longer I'm in here caring for her.
"Thank you" I hear her whisper and I pinch myself for thinking something so shameful. I pull up a side table and then start pulling out the packed contents.