We ride in prolonged silence; he glances at me occasionally but remains silent. At times, he exits to speak with his guards before returning, but beyond that, no words are exchanged, making me feel invisible to him in this carriage, which is quite distressing. After a lengthy journey, the horses suddenly stop, causing me to lurch forward, but fortunately, he reacts quickly to steady me.
"Are you alright, my lady?" you finally decide to speak. No, I am not, I thought. "My lady?" he calls again, prompting me to quickly get off him.
"Apologies, my king," I say as he stares at me expressionlessly.
"That's not what I asked," he says, gazing at me as if offended by my previous action.
"I am fine, thanks," he nods, then exits the carriage, perhaps to ponder the recent events. He approaches one of the horses, presumably the cause of the commotion, and pats its back before turning to question one of his guards. Feeling weary, I step down from the carriage, and one of his men, noticing me, quickly comes to assist.
"My lady, please wait inside; it's not safe for you here," he says with a look of concern, probably perceiving me as fragile as a vase. Yet, I yearn to understand the source of this danger, even if I am powerless to intervene.
"What happened?" I asked, realizing the gravity of the situation instead of taking the right action. Blood was smeared across the floor as if someone had dragged a dead or living being on their way home. I glanced at the king, who was now approaching the bloody trail with another guard. Then, I turned to the young man who seemed to be in a difficult position. "It's alright if it's confidential," I said, not wishing to cause further trouble. He exhaled a sigh and turned to me.
"Baram suspects that Gahe's lie ahead and advises taking an alternate route for your protection," he explains, glancing at the man beside the king. Presumably, this is Baram, distinguished by his all-black military uniform, unlike the guards in blue or red. His hands are clasped behind him, a sword hanging on his left, and his long blue hair is tied back in a ponytail.
"What are those?" I inquire, and he fixes me with a thoughtful stare for a moment. Perhaps that lady was correct in saying I wasn't well-educated. In my defense, I've never ventured out into the world to discover its contents.
"They are mountain people; born, raised, and buried in the mountains. But recently, they've become entangled with warlocks, and it has drastically changed things for the worse, my lady," he explained, his tenor laden with concern. I never imagined people could live in such places, let alone raise children there.
"Why is there blood on the floor?" I persisted, aware that his response might haunt my sleep for days or more.
"Hydrus!" a voice calls out before he can reply, and another man approaches us. "My lady," he bows in greeting, then turns to Hydrus with a stern expression. "You must assist the others with the horses," he chides. Hydrus turns to me, offers an awkward smile and a bow, and excuses himself. "I hope he wasn't bothering you, my lady?" He inquires, and as I shake my head to decline, he nods and departs without another word. I return to the carriage to wait for time to elapse. Awakening, I find myself not in the carriage but in a small room. I hastily rise from the bed and survey my surroundings. Did I fall asleep in that confined space? The room contained no furniture except for a bed, the walls appeared old and devoid of paint, and most distressing was the lack of windows—there were none in the apartment. A sense of panic began to rise within me. I attempted to open the door, only to find it seemingly locked from the outside. I tried several times to open it but without success. I knock with all my might, but no one answers. Eventually, I grow weary and sit on the cold floor, drawing my knees close and letting out a yelp. Has he abandoned me here? Sold me? Why would he do that? I'm left asking questions to which I never receive answers. I'm unsure how long I was there, but I abruptly heard a faint, angry voice that gradually became clearer and more forceful.
"I told you to open the door, or I'll have to break it down, even if it means dispatching you in the process," Bluebell's voice echoed from outside. But I was too exhausted to walk to the door. After another outburst, the door finally gave way, and I heard footsteps rushing towards me.
"My lady," she calls out, fear evident in her voice. She approaches, squatting in front of me to envelop me in a tight embrace, slowly sinking to her knees. "It is alright, my lady, I am here; you need not be burdened," she whispers soothingly, her embrace tightening, drawing me closer with each placating word. Clinging to her, I continue to weep. Then, with a sudden shift, she shrieks, "Get out!" her voice now a mammoth roar, the tone she adopts only in fury.
"This is the king," one guard exclaimed, angered by the tone Bluebell used towards his king. Was the king inside? How many people were in here?
"Do I look unsighted to you?" Bluebell continued, causing the others to mumble. "I. said. get. out. right this instant," she stated menacingly slow. I grabbed her maiden gown to stop her, but she was undeterred, holding my hand reassuringly before glaring at those I couldn't see.
"You are not allowed to give orders," another voice began, only to be cut off by a scream.
"Get out!" I don't remember what happened next because everything blurred, and I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I had a peculiar headache, but thankfully, Bluebell was by my side.
"My lady," she whispered, assisting me to sit up in bed. She handed me a cup of water and deftly braided my hair back as I drank. After I handed her the empty cup, which she placed on the floor, she asked, "Are you hungry, my lady? I can prepare a quick refreshment for you." However, I declined her offer as I wasn't very hungry.
"What happened?" I ask, recalling the events before I lost consciousness. She smirks at me and affectionately pats my head.
"I scared them off," she declares with pride.
"And the king?" He didn't leave at her command. Sure, she looks intimidating when she's angry, but that was the king.
"Damn the king," she replies, and I cast her a scolding glance, which she solemnly disregards. "My lady," she begins, "He left you here alone with the door locked, while he was out there engaging in whatever folly a worthless king of his sort indulges in. What was he expected to do? If he deems me discourteous, I shall die content, knowing you remained unharmed," she concludes, shrugging off the notion of death as if it has no bearing on her instinct for survival.
"So, he's the one who locked me up?" I ask, saddened; they really are the same.
"Aww, my lady, don't take my anger too seriously," she tries to reason, but I know that what she said earlier were only facts. Why would he lock me in here with no guard to open the door in case I woke up?
"Why did we stop?" I ask, brushing aside the thoughts.
"We had to stop because the head guard thinks there are some Gahe's around the corner, and it's safer if the night doesn't overtake us on our way," she explained.
"What are those? I've heard they are people who live in the mountains, but why would they choose to live in such hazardous conditions when they could find more comfortable places?" I couldn't understand why anyone would choose to live that way.
"They never wished to reside there, my lady," she begins thoughtfully. "It is said that they are the protectors of the mountains, but before that, they were accused of a heinous crime and were exiled to the mountains. They grew so accustomed to their solitude that even after the villagers realized they were innocent; they declined the offer to return. The villagers faced many hardships after their departure," she explains.
"Why?" I inquired.
"Because they are the greatest healers in the world, my lady. It is said they could heal any injury, even those deemed incurable by the most skilled physicians. And with their departure, villagers have had to pay exorbitant prices to heal their sick, person" she explained.
"And the king—why did he do nothing? Why would he allow his subjects to become so divided?" I questioned.
"My lady, you are aware of how our society operates. We may have socialism, but it is still under capitalist ownership; there is no leakage," she articulates, leaving me puzzled. I do not grasp her meaning. "After their departure, the House of Carpel implored the king to see this as a chance to increase revenue. With the departure of those aiding the villagers, they must now rely on their own physicians, presenting an opportunity," she elucidates. As I lie down, the world unfolds just as Mother described—how can a king treat his people so?
"But what about the Gahe's? Don't they face difficulties living there?" I pondered, recalling she mentioned they felt comfortable. Yet, why don't they return?
"My lady," she whispered, "we mustn't discuss this openly, but those who departed and embraced life in the wilds turned into spirits. That's why they're known as Geha's, mountain spirits," she concluded, and I nodded, grasping her meaning.
"Who brought me here?" I inquired, remembering my fainting spell. She had claimed to push everyone away, so she couldn't have carried me alone.
"I did, my lady; you aren't that heavy to lift," she remarks casually. Standing up, she exits the room. As she opens the door, I notice two guards stationed outside. She casts them a judgmental glance before shutting the door. I wait, which feels like half an hour, before she returns, bearing a tray. She sets it before me with a smile. "Here, my lady, you must eat before we depart, to sustain you for the remainder of the journey. We cannot be certain if his next plan involves starving you," she explains.
"Bluebell," I scold, but she continues to ignore me, urging me to eat. I gaze at the meal, my appetite lost from earlier events; yet, this bowl of pottage stew, crowned with two hard-boiled eggs, seems like it could restore what I've lost.
"I prepared it myself, my lady; you needn't worry," she assures. Without hesitation, I begin to eat the stew and find no disappointment. She always knows what's best for me. The pottage is gone in an instant, and she sets the empty bowl on the floor.
"Where are the others?" Considering Bluebell's rudeness, she might have stirred trouble with the emergence of new adversaries.
"They're waiting for us to depart," she states nonchalantly, and I stare at her in horror. She returns the gaze with those greyish eyes, as if she were merely translating a newspaper article for me.
"Why didn't you mention it earlier, Belle?"
"Had I told you, you wouldn't have eaten. You'd insist on leaving immediately, saying 'Bluebell, let's go. I can eat in the carriage. Let's not waste more time,'" she mimics, assisting me to the door, checking for left-behind items before opening it.
"My lady," the guards bow, and I return their greeting; Bluebell casts a final glance at the room before departing. "Is there anything we can assist with?" he inquires.
"When she needed you, you were deaf; now that she does not, you suddenly regain your hearing," Bluebell retorts in a tone I recognize. I pinch her, offer the guard a rueful smile, and lead her away.
"Why are you so rude to him?" I ponder. As my personal maid, her protectiveness is expected, perhaps due to the time we've spent together, but I cannot afford to lose her over her staunch integrity.
"I am not," she asserts. "I am merely stating the facts. Why didn't they assist when you knocked so loudly? I was miles away and yet I could hear you. As guards, their judgment should be impeccable. Yet there they are, waiting for people to fall into distress before offering aid. My lady, they ought to anticipate events, not wait for them to occur before seeking solutions," she explains, and inexplicably, I find her reasoning sound.
"But they know nothing about me, and I'm certain that with this incident and your bold behavior, they are now aware," I tell her, and she gives me a triumphant look.
"Pleased I taught them something constructive, and my lady, you must stand your ground," she says. This feels like the first time she's told me to stand my ground since I received a slap from my ex-husband. But we both knew I had neither the strength nor a say in this matter. Mother always said to keep my hands to myself, lower my voice, never back down, and accept my faults because I was always sinful.
"He is the king and..." I begin.
"You are the queen, which means equal rights and opinions, and the king does not seem like someone who would silence others' voices."
"Yet, I am ignorant of politics and indifferent to the affairs of a kingdom, not to mention my failure to manage my own duchy without summoning my brother for help," I lament, clutching my gown until my knuckles turn white. Noticing this, Bluebell gently takes my hands in hers.
"My lady, this may seem inappropriate, but I believe you would have managed the duchy well if given the chance. Remember, your mother never allowed you to do anything; she always wanted you to stay in your chamber, like some..." she says, becoming infuriated herself. Now that I think about it, she was always by my side ever since I entered the mansion, too involved to even notice what mother did.
"I am aware, and it does not please me, for I could have learned so much after his demise," I say, recalling my father's words about the importance of willingness rather than obligation.
"My lady?" she calls out, still holding my hand. She lifts her hands to wipe away the tears from my face, which I hadn't realized had begun to fall. Perhaps if I had spoken up to my mother, I would have learned all these things about the kingdom that is now my responsibility. "Do not cry or feel upset. I promise that as soon as we reach the palace, I will teach you everything you need to know," she assures me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
"How?" I inquire, not to demean her position as a maid, but because she never mentioned her knowledge of such matters.
"You will be surprised, my lady. I possess knowledge equal to that of a king, but let us keep this our little secret," she whispers, guiding me towards the waiting carriages. As I scan the crowd for the king, I find him conversing with the guard from earlier. Perhaps feeling my intense stare, he locks eyes with me, appraising me from head to toe before returning to his conversation. His demeanor suggests irritation or perhaps disgust at the thought of my maid's boldness towards him. Bluebell leads us to the nearest tree, offering it as support for me to lean on."Do you need something my lady?" she asks, and I shake my head in rejection. I just ate a huge bowl of stew. How could I have something more?
"Do you know where we are now?" I ask, driving away from the silence.
"We're in the eastern part of Zahkish. This place isn't safe for commoners, but with all these useless guards around, they might actually be of some use," she says, oblivious to her surroundings.
"What kind of dangers might we encounter?"
"Flagae, or at worst, goblins, trolls, or wizards," she replies, sending a wave of terror down my spine. Why is she so casual? Isn't she scared?
"What are Flagae?" I inquire, trying to comprehend the terror in my mind.
"Oh, they're creatures that predict the future using a mirror," she answers, glancing around from time to time.
"And what makes them dangerous?" It seems advantageous to be forewarned about your life's events to avoid certain troubles.
"They are, my lady, very dangerous. Once they capture your face in a mirror, they do tell you your future, yes, but it's their decision for you, not what nature intended, and that cannot be avoided," she explained. That sounded ominous. She glanced at one of the carriages and directed me to one, climbing in to take the opposite seat.
"I will ride with you, my lady, and please, let's not dwell on 'what about the king'—he will endure," she says, approaching to adjust my gown from grazing the ground. We eventually started moving, as if Bluebell had once again wasted their time. Doesn't he wish to know how I feel? Why would he care for someone thrust into his life? Perhaps he still has his former queen's portraits adorning the palace halls and chambers.
"Do you think I'll make a good queen?" I ask, unable to contain my concern.
"Yes, my queen, but You must possess the belief in your ability to succeed, the strength to overcome obstacles, and, of course, the power to establish your own legacy," she says earnestly.
"I don't think the last motivational rule applies," I say, and after a while, we burst into laughter at my remark. Eventually, our laughter subsides, and she dabs at her tears.
"My lady, you can't be serious; it wasn't meant for motivation. I told you that you must believe in yourself, not give up," she reminds me.
"I can't even respond to myself to even overcome obstacles," I want to say I'll try, but I can't offer her hopes only to disappoint her later. We talked a bit more before I fell asleep again, and after what seemed like a decade, Bluebell finally woke me up.
"My lady, we have arrived," she announces, easing myself into a sitting position as I struggle to regain my sight. She smiles at my yawn. "You've been riding for a day; you must be weary. Now, you can rest in a more comfortable bed." The carriage door swings open, and with the guard's assistance, I step out. Bluebell follows, gasping in awe—a sentiment I share. This place... is nothing like what I had imagined.