Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Tuscany
I grind my teeth in my sleep.
A nightmare circles me, a recall or memory distorted, but the feelings… They are real. The feelings—fear, panic—I recognise them in my heart.
“No more surgeries!” I wail as two nurses take an arm each and drag me down the passage. “Please!” My small feet shuffle against the tiles, crossing over each other as I am forced back into my room.
They found me.
They want to break my legs.
Too short.
Too petite.
Not grand.
Not a marble statue…
As they shoulder open my bedroom door, pulling me inside, the scent of lemon and antiseptic burns my nostrils.
“No!” I thrash around in their holds.
“She’s hysterical this night,” the nurse on the left says, her coral mask further adding to her detached presence.
No empathy.
Utterly devoid.
Hysterical?
“Not my legs!”
The door swings shut, locking me inside with them. Alone.
I let each limb crumble and collapse to the ground, my body becoming dead weight, forcing both nurses to grunt and tighten their hold on me. To take my entire weight.
“A small sedative will fix everything, my queen,” the one on the right says, trying to haul me to my feet, but I thrash and wail.
Panic washes over me.
Tears spit violently from my eyes.
Then, the door to my bedroom suddenly swings open. Panting and sobbing, I turn to the opening, hoping for Rome, for anyone…
A Guard peers inside.
“Help me,” I whisper.
“Master Cairo has sent me,” he says, and every muscle in my body gives way to defeat and sorrow.
Darkness descends on me.
Wrapping around me.
“He has asked for you to postpone,” he finally states, eyeing the situation with an unaffected and dutiful gaze.
The nurse on the left says, “Whatever for? We are all prepped. We will sedate her.”
Lost in sorrow, in my own whimpering defeat, I stare at him. “What am I to you?” I moan the words. They mean nothing, ask nothing. I am nothing to him.
The Guard nods and answers the nurse. “The king has arrived home early.” With that, he closes the door.
I listen to his footsteps rapping down the hallway and sway on trembling legs. “What. Am. I. To. You?”
“Well,” the one on the right says with a sigh. “We can’t have you all sad and broken for Sire. We’ll help you.”
Icy dread slides down my spine. “No,” I gasp. “No, no, please, no ECT! I’ll behave!”
“Oh, come now, you always feel better after therapy,” she says adamantly. “Don’t you want to be strong and supportive for Sire? The perfect queen?”
I freeze, fingers flexing and unflexing. Yes, I want that more than anything.
“You know everything we do is to help you, to serve you,” the one on my left arm says. “To make you the ideal. The Queen of The Cradle is symbolic. She is without flaws, emotionally balanced, soothing to all. Don’t you want to be like that?”
I feel so small. “Yes…”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” the nurse on the right says. “You don’t seem to appreciate what we do at all.”
I need my eagle.
“You smile so much after a treatment. We will wait until Sire’s next campaign to treat your legs. Come now, let’s work on that smile.”
My eyes snap open. Eagle Rome clutched to my chest.
Nightmarish dreams of nurses without faces and Guards without hearts ebb, placing me back in the bed.
Habitually, I wake too early, just as night clears to first-light, and the low hum of early risers circles the tent.
Did they hear me?
Was I screaming?
For the past decade, I have been met by the nurse each first-light for my medicinal tea and lotions. I would be brushed, plucked, styled, and dressed for the day by a member of my Army.
For the first time in many years, I do not know what to expect this first-light, but maybe out here, in the rural of The Cradle, I have a little authority over each day. Away from Master Cairo and the corals, as I call them. A colour I despise.
“Good first-light,” Ana whispers, stretching her arms over her head. She couldn’t have heard me. I mustn’t have screamed. “You’re awake early. Should I gather—”
“I wish to walk.” I slide from the bed and plant my feet on the ground. I need to be alone with Ana. “Come with me. Throw your robe on. It is still quite dim. No one will know we are only in our nightdresses.”
“Scandalous.” She mocks before glancing at sleeping Brook and Essen. “Essen would have a heart attack if she knew.”
I throw my coat on and fasten every button down to my knee, pull my hood up over my signature honey-coloured hair, and sweep back the tent door.
Peering around, I notice a Guard slouched, fast asleep beside the entrance. His arms are folded over his chest, his head lulling.
“Come.” I slide on my boots and walk from our tent straight toward the trees. I hear Ana’s footsteps following. Soon, the forest swallows our bodies, the dark clinging to us under the canopies as the sun’s rays lazily lift and penetrate the haze.
Navigating the forest, I make my way to a spot that I saw yesterday from above the dam wall. There was a small area where two girls, River’s age, were cleaning tools or implements.
“My queen. This is not safe.”
“If it is safe for the small Trade children, then it should be safe for their queen.”
Balancing, I scale a small hill to the edge of a rivulet. A tiny stream that trickles and glints in the gathering first-light.
“How lovely.”
“Kong is going to kill me,” Ana mutters.
I step into the water. It laps around my boots, and I imagine it is quite cold to touch. “We should bathe here.”
“There is a shower for you, my queen.”
“This is far better.” I kick off my boots, shrug my jacket from my shoulders and hang it on a tree limb by the water’s edge.
I stand in only my cream, thin night-dress and suddenly, can’t find a reason not to… I just wish to get in the water before someone clambers down the bank and stops me from… living this moment.
I stride into the tiny river, inhaling a sharp, controlled breath when the cool water meets my bellybutton.
Behind me, Ana makes the same small gasp. “Oh, my, it’s freezing!”
Every hair on my body rises.
“We have our water scolding.” Ana’s voice trembles, her teeth chattering together.
“I can bear both.” I let my legs give out and dunk my body under the surface, before standing again, the dam water cascading down my body.
Droplets glisten like diamonds on my skin.
My hair clings to my back, and the cream of my dress turns translucent, clinging to my form enough to make me feel naked.
The river is shallow, and as I wade further, the water greets the underside of my breasts, sending shivers of awareness racing through me.
“We are alone,” I say, turning to Ana. “When we get to the Lower-tower, I need you to join in gossip with the Guards. Listen to their stories.”
She glides toward me, stopping close. “What exactly are you hoping to hear?”
“Plans,” I say straightaway. “Stories. Anything about the babes they take from the ruins. Anything about women being killed in raids. Orphans. I’m certain that Bled knows The Cradle’s secrets. We need as much information, recounts, and confessions as possible before I can take this to Rome.”
She nods, agreeing while her brows crease over uncertain eyes. “I’ll listen.”
“This is my Meaningful Purpose, Ana. To nurture, to mother. I can’t say the words, give my—” My womb. “Give my vows and not try.”
She swallows. “Will you really… Will you really approach, Sire?”
“If we find proof.” I nod. “Yes.”
“What if he isn’t—” She looks at the water and then at me again. “May I speak freely with you?”
“Of course.”
“What if he isn’t a good man?”
“My brother has a decent heart.”
Ana’s face twists with derision. “He took my baby from me, my queen.”
Her hesitant utterance stings. She is a Silk Girl, so when she gave birth, Rome did his duty and took the baby to the safety of The Estate nursery to be raised by a Sired Mother.
As was I. As was Rome. This act wasn’t intended to be shocking or cruel; it’s a customary practice.
Still, she was devastated. I don’t wish to undermine the pain she feels, so all I say is, “I know.”
“He took my baby and gave it to Master Cairo,” she recaps, emotions deepening her voice. “He is a king, and he does kingly duties.”
“He changed the rules for you,” I say, clutching at slivers of hope.
At the ethical changes he has already made.
“He allows you to see the babe, lets you play with him. That has never happened in the history of The Trade. To protect the children, they go underground. They do not know who fathered them or gave birth to them. You know this.”
“He changed the rules for Aster,” she mentions.
“I’m not convinced he would have changed the rules for…
” She pauses. “Anyone else. I was lucky to be in her Collective. That is all. He doesn’t care about…
” She reaches for what to say, but defeat pushes the truth along her tongue.
“Little River, or… or me. You said it yourself; he is a man. I don’t think he is taking babes anymore.
I hope he stopped that practice when the late king died, but I don’t think he will take kindly to being deceived. ”
My stomach knots up, thinking about turning on my brother. “This isn’t deceit.”
“We are literally standing in a dam plotting to uncover his secrets.”
“Trade secrets,” I correct.
“And the difference is? Uncovering them is one thing. I am here for that. I want to know, too. But going to the source and expecting a what… apology? For him to implement real change? That is dangerous.”
I feel pressure on my chest, too much pressure. “I have to try. It won’t be Rome’s orders. It will be Cairo’s. I’m hoping that if Rome and I both stand steadfast, agreeing that this needs to end, that he will have no choice.”
“Are you willing to fail?”
“What will he do?” Feeling adrift, I lift my finger to my neck. My pulse. I curl my toes, paying attention to the water rushing close by. I am real. I am here. I am safe.