The clock shows 22:45. The kettle on the stove is boiling. The woman hastily turns off the gas. Out of the corner of her ear she hears her son rustling in the blanket. He'll cry soon. She thought. Already on autopilot she took her son's favorite bottle, poured in the formula and poured boiling water. While shaking the mixture in the bottle, her head was swarming with thoughts of tiredness, hunger, about the future of her and her son. But! At that moment, although a little exhausted, she was happy, love for her son was overflowing her.Turning toward the room where he lay, she smiled and tiptoed to the crib. I want to admire him, before he sees me with the bottle and all his thoughts rush to food. She smiled at these thoughts. She was right. He was lying and playing with his favorite fluffy blanket, saying something in his cute little language. I wonder what you are thinking about so content.
-Peekaboo! – she revealed herself to him. Seeing his mom, he smiled with all his two little teeth, but, alas, the fear was justified he saw the bottle.
- That's it? Mom is no longer in sight?- his hands eagerly reached for the coveted food.
She sat on the bed, holding her beloved son on her lap, and he ate with pleasure.
Your cheeks can already be seen from the back of your head.
-You shouldn't eat that much, - she said while squeezing his cheeks. - Or maybe I just envy your metabolism, - she added, already squeezing her own sides, nearly in tears.
00:15. Somewhere far away, a cry was heard. Her eyelids barely opened, her lashes seemed stuck together. She wanted to keep sleeping. But that fierce cry it alarmed her. Maybe the diaper needs changing.
With difficulty rising to her hands, rubbing her eyes, she looked around through a slit.
Why am I nauseous? Taking a deep breath, she immediately vomited. Gas? Panic. The baby is crying.
-If you're still crying, then you're alive, great.- I need to get out faster, come on, gather your strength.
Staggering, she barely reached the crib. Her arms felt like cotton. With her last ounce of strength, she picked him up. Leaning against the wall, she moved toward the door. Her legs caught on the toys.Damn!Falling to the floor, she tried not to waste time. Crawl!
Voices of neighbors could be heard behind the front door.- How much longer!? Calm your child down!- Honey, go over to the neighbor, ask her to quiet her brat down!-The voices were getting closer. Help!The doorbell rang. As if thunderous silence had descended.Sharp pain.Bright light.Explosion.-No- was the last thing that escaped her lips.
She was drifting in darkness, as if swimming through thick water, when a beam of light suddenly struck her eyes. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she seemed to be trying to pull down some invisible curtain then suddenly, she opened her eyes.
She was lying on a soft featherbed, as if sinking into a cloud...
-I don't understand, where am I? - without lifting her head, she looked around the space. I survived? Raising her hand, she expected to find burns from the fire on her body. What? There were none…Why? She looked at her skin perfect, like porcelain. Turning her arm back and forth, something was bothering her, for some reason she was more concerned that the body before her eyes was in ideal condition, rather than scarred.
-And this body isn't mine. - Lifting the nightgown, she touched her belly there was no sign of a C-section scar. Panic. Where is my baby? Where…Where am I? Her heart thundered in her ears. She quickly got out of bed and looked around the room. The decor was too ornate. Gold and painted monograms. It was morning outside the window. She heard the sounds of carriages and…horses? What? Why? A mirror. She ran to it so fast she crashed into it.
Yes. This was not her.
A woman stood before her.Tall. Straight. In a light nightgown that barely concealed her body. Thick hair, the color of wet coal, cascaded over her shoulders and back, like nighttime silk. Her face seemed carved from porcelain. Cold. Lifeless. She leaned closer. Lips. Thin, but clear-cut. Eyelids shadowed, heavy, like those of someone who had seen too much. Brows tapered toward the temples, making her gaze sterner than she would have wished. And the eyes... darker than she remembered. They didn't belong to her.She moved her hands over skin that was too smooth, alien. Where was the scar from the C-section? Where was the warm, faded skin she had known all her life?
Nothing.
Not a single scar. Not a single birthmark. It wasn't her, yet the mirror reflected only her.
A noise behind her. The door opened, and a girl entered the room, carrying a basin and a jug. She seemed to be a servant in this place. The girl clearly did not expect to see the one she had been caring for standing on her feet.
-𐊪ɛяøʟɛʋа, Ѵυ ϙϲнυʟιϞ! (Queen, you've awakened!) - the maid abruptly straightened.
-ɆǤø ѴɛʟιͲнɛϞͲʋø ʙυͲɛͲ яаᛞ! (His Majesty will be pleased!) - The girl quickly placed the basin and jug onto the table and curtsied.
-What? - she asked in confusion, as if asking her to repeat what was said.
The maid froze, as if realizing she had crossed an invisible line. Her voice trembled with panic as she tried to make things right:
-Ϸяøʂυ Ϸяøʂɛηιа... ι я ʋιηøʋα, ʂдɛʟαʟα ʂ̇ͷ-ϯø ηɛ ϯακ? (I beg your pardon... I am guilty, did I do something wrong?) – the maid stumbled over her words in fear.
-я ʐαʂʟα ʌ Ѵαʂι Ϸøκøи ηɛ Ϸøϲϯʋκαʌ... Ϸяøʂʋ Ϸяøʂɛηια, Ѵαʂɛ Ѵʋͷøϲϯʋø! (I entered Your chambers without knocking... I apologize, Your Highness!) – Her face turned pale. Her hands clenched into awkward fists. She didn't know whether she had been heard, whether she would be forgiven, or if the silence had already sealed her sentence.
But the Queen, too, was lost in fear and panic. What is she babbling about? Am I going crazy?
– I'm sorry, I don't understand you, but if you understand me, please, help me! Where am I? No... no... That's not important right now. – She rushed up to the girl and grabbed her hands desperately. – I have a child... a son. Do you happen to know where he is?
She had placed all her hopes on this girl every last ounce of it. But the maid, too, was sinking into fear. Awkwardly pulling her hands from the Queen's desperate grip, she glanced over her from head to toe: a thin, slightly sickly frame, sunken eyes wide with wild confusion. The Queen's words — her speech — made no sense to her. Clutching the hem of her dress, the girl looked as though she were trying to keep her own terror from spilling out. Her voice broke, but still she managed to speak:
-ʍøя Ϸøʀøʟɛʋα, Ϸʟαϲʌʂϲϭα, ϷøϯøʐϞιϯɛ... ι я ϲøøʍцю ɆǤø ѴɛʟιͲнɛϞͲʋø! (My Queen, please wait... I will inform His Majesty!) Her legs were trembling, but she managed a bow before dashing to the doors without waiting for permission.
-What? Where are you going?- without thinking, she rushed after her.- Wait, where are you going? Take me to someone who can understand me!- she shouted after her.
The maid knew she wasn't supposed to run from her queen, but this was an extraordinary case. Better to report to the head maid... or even the King himself. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Perhaps the Queen had lost her mind after such a long sleep. Hurrying, she glanced back, the Queen was still chasing her. God. She paused for a moment, thinking. Her Majesty was in a nightgown this would be a scandal. The knights and courtiers were watching. She felt anger rising at the Queen, at herself, at everyone. How dare they look at her? Why don't they avert their eyes?
-Thank you for stopping...- the Queen said. But before she could finish, the maid took off her large apron and draped it over her Queen's bare shoulders.
-Thank you, now please take me- again, she didn't finish. From around the corner appeared a woman, age etched deeply into her beauty. When she smiled, more wrinkles bloomed, as if she was allowed more than others. No curtsy. No fear. Just a faint smirk, like the Queen's return had disrupted someone's carefully guarded peace.
- Ѵøϯ ɛͲø яαʞøϯь! Ϸøʀøʟɛʋα Ϸʀиʂʟα ʌ ʂɛϷα! ηʋ... ιʟι Ϸø ϯαкøʍʏ, Ϸøϲϯι...
( Well, isn't that a joy! The Queen has come to her senses! Or... close enough, I suppose.)
There was a sharp glint in the woman's eyes not joy, not really. It was relief tinged with schadenfreude. The mysterious woman raised her hand, snapping open a bright fan, hiding a smirk behind it while peeking over the edge.
Chaos began to stir around them — too many unfamiliar words. Why were these people all in such old-fashioned clothes? Knights even! Knights! Armor, plate, swords and everything. She had definitely gone insane.
-ηʋ?... ι кøϯα ʂøιʐʋøʟιͲ Ϸʀииϲʌ ϯɛøᛞøʀ, øн ηακøηɛц ϯακι ʐøжϞɑʂʌ ʂʋøʋʋ ʙʟαϓøʙɛʀηʋʋ, ʙøζʌϷʌ ηɛ ʙʋϞɛͲ Ѵɛʀα, Ϸø Ϸʀɛɖɛʟα"
( Well? ...and when will dear Prince Teodor finally grace us with his presence? Surely he must be ecstatic now that his precious beloved has returned.)
The words slipped from behind the thin fan like perfumed daggers. The voice was light, mocking, but beneath it rang an edge of irritation. The woman didn't even lift her eyes as if all around her were simply maids in her private theatre.
The doors burst open so violently that the panels slammed against the stone. A tall man entered the hall almost ran in outpacing the guards, as if he himself could wait no longer. His mantle was unfastened, his hair disheveled. He had clearly rushed either from a meeting or straight from the stables.
He did not shout. But in his eyes burned a panic barely held in check by will alone. He had been waiting for her awakening. He was not prepared for the woman who now stood before him. She stood barefoot, clad in nothing but a thin nightgown, her hair unbound. Like someone who had just broken free from icy water pale, and yet somehow… radiant.
He took a slow step forward. As if approaching not a beloved, but something wild, untamed. A cold storm behind a delicate veil. His voice was soft, almost uncertain.
— ʍøя Ϸøʀøʟɛʋα… ι я αɖ… ʋιͲɛʀ… (My Queen… I am glad… to see you…)
And then he fell silent, as if the words had suddenly become unwelcome irreparably alien in this room.
He stepped closer, and the maid quietly stepped back, releasing the apron she had hastily draped over the queen's shoulders.
Theodor gave her a small nod and softly said, "Thank you." Then he turned his gaze back to the woman who now stood like a statue.
The thin fabric on her body moved with each breath, but she herself seemed not to live only to watch. He reached for her hand.
- Ϸøιɖɛʍ…ʂʋ ϯʋϲ ηɛ ʂɛιϲʌ ʙ ϯαкøʍ ʂʋɖɛ… (Come… this place isn't right for you like this…)
He wanted to take her away from there.
The man's voice kept saying something. It sounded close, but carried no meaning. The words were blurred, like heard through water. She didn't know who he was. His eyes looked too familiar. Too certain. As if he knew her more than anyone else ever had.
And she… knew nothing.
She thought that maybe he could help—but before she could take a step, her body refused. Her heart beat not in her chest, but in her ears, her temples, her teeth. The world trembled, as if on the edge of sleep, and then, a flash.
Fire.
Her hand engulfed in flames. A scream. Another one. Somewhere in the darkness. Small. Foreign. And yet the closest thing of all. Her eyes flew open too wide, and with them came the memory like a hammer to the back of the skull.
Flames.
Air thick with smoke. Skin splitting from the heat. Her hand clutching something... someone to her chest. Her throat screamed on its own. Not with words. Not with thought. As if it was tearing the pain out through raw sound, through flesh and glass. She recoiled. She fell hard, abruptly hitting her elbow on the stone.
He whoever he was, rushed to her. Said something. Tried to take her hand.
-Don't touch me! - she rasped. In a language that sounded familiar… but wasn't hers. She looked up at him from the floor, like a stranger. Like an executioner dressed in a beautiful mantle. And in that moment, only one thing became clear to her: I don't know who you are. I… died. This wasn't a dream. This is real.