The Kingdom of Secrets and Ruin

Dalliah

My eyelashes feel as though they have been welded shut, the bed beneath me is far too comfortable for my cot back in the castle and my dress isn’t nearly as rough as I remember. Something is wrong, I can feel it in my bones, but all I can manage to do is twist my aching body slowly and fight my heavy lids.

Each time I manage to pry them open, I’m blinded by the incoming light, so different from the endless dark waters. Wait, the water.

It all comes back to me, the running, the drowning… the dying? Panic shoots through me, giving me the energy to finally see and I have to hold back a scream as the figure above me comes into focus. The Red King, he found me.

I want to run, but my legs barely feel there. The sheets covering me feel as though they’re binding me in place and other than him, I don’t recognise a thing. Which means something is missing, someone.

“Nameless, where is he?” My throat burns as I speak but the urgency to know doesn’t care.

“Nameless?”

The voice replying to me doesn’t try to hide the fact that it thinks I’m insane, but I couldn’t care less, not when I still don’t have my answer.

“Nameless?” I call out, the pitch my voice reaches only serves to increase the pain but I keep repeating myself on the off chance he might hear.

My arms are weak but I manage to drag myself up into a sitting position as two more figures appear around the bed, both men and neither personally known to me. I don’t like this, I don’t like this one bit.

Ruairi tries to soothe me, reaching arms out towards me but I bat him away. If it wasn’t for the answering yawl, I’d probably have fallen to tears by now but he’s here, he’s okay.

“What the hell was that?” One of the men yells in a sort of whisper, as if scared to frighten me more.

“It’s under the bed!” Another answers while reaching for his sword and I can’t help but blurt out a plea in the form of a shriek, not wanting him to move any further or hurt him.

Thankfully, before I need to explain myself further in words that might actually be understood, my white patched cat, the cause of my current troubles, leaps onto the bed and into my arms. A breath of relief leaves my body.

“Oh you are lucky I love you,” I sigh into his fur as I pull him in closer.

A part of me feels that I can use him as a sort of barrier between me and the men but he’s just a cat, and there’s nothing I can do in the position I find myself in.

Was it Ruairi who saved me from drawing? Were the others there on the pier with us?

Through my blurry eyes that are still adjusting to being open, I think I recognise one of them as Lord Tedric, the new ruler of Yeolan, meaning my lie is out in the open. How on earth can I explain myself?

Nothing but the truth would make sense.

“Put the sword down,” Ruairi says through his teeth to one of the others, “She’s clearly scared and you’re not helping.”

“Forgive me if I didn’t expect a beast below the bed… how the hell did that get there anyway?”

“Avery, not now.” Tedric places a hand on the other’s shoulder and twists him towards the door.

Thankfully it seems that they’re both going to leave, but I doubt that would make much difference as I’ll still be trapped here alone with the Red King. Will he take my hand here? Or am I right in suspecting his punishment will be worse than my father’s?

“They’re gone now,” The voice he uses is far softer than the one I heard seconds before. Almost like the voice in my dream… but that wasn’t a dream, was it? They’ll have been sitting waiting for me all this time.

What a mess I’m in. I should have stuck it out in the castle a little longer. But then again, how was I to know he would be here?

“How do you feel? Hungry? Thirsty?”

His questions shock me and in all honesty, I can’t think why he cares. I lied to him, a servant to her ‘master’ and he should be asking me why, not if I’m okay.

“I-I’m fine.”

Nameless nuzzles my neck, not liking the croak in my voice, but I suppose that’s to be expected after swallowing half the ocean. The idea of drinking something repulses me, but now that he’s mentioned it, I could use something to soothe my throat and fill my stomach.

I’d never admit that though, he could use it as leverage and he already has enough of that as it is.

“Could you try for me… please?” If his softness shocked me before, I don’t know what it’s done now as my mouth falls open.

Reaching towards a table that’s on the right-hand side of my bed, he grabs a cup of water and what looks to be a cold bowl of soup. So much liquid, but so very much needed.

I’m tempted to turn him down, fear of the stuff rising in me, as well as the dislike of being in his dept even further, but the gurgle of my stomach rivals Nameless’ yawl.

“Okay.”

I accept the cup and take small sips. They sting at first, reaching where the salt must have burned me, but then it starts to relieve the dryness.

Half the contents are gone when he takes it away and replaces my shaking hands with the bowl. I was right about the soup but it’s still warm rather than cold which is a nice surprise.

“I had them bring a new batch every hour on the off chance you’d wake.” He reads my mind with ease, and if I wasn’t too busy feeding my hunger it would probably have worried me more.

I can’t take much, my stomach must have shrivelled over time, and I realise I don’t even know how long it’s been. A night? Another day? How do I ask without opening myself to the conversation I’m dreading?

Rather than saying anything, I push back the bowl which he accepts like the most professional of nurses and it strikes me as odd that he’s here waiting on me. As king, there are plenty of people who could do this instead while he waits to get started on the bad part. Or is this the point, to give me a false sense of security?

“Good girl,” He praises me, “The surgeon said to try little and often once you came to.”

I hate how I blush when he calls me that, not even knowing why but that’s the least of my problems. “What else did he say?”

Ruairi runs a hand through his hair before scratching his neck, and I know to brace myself for his reply. He might be able to read me but at times the ability is mutual.

“He said we’d need to watch for any lingering pneumonia, until it’s gone you’re not out of the woods,” He sees my blank face, “That’s the goo in your throat and the ache in your chest.”

I nod, thankful for the explanation and try not to fixate on the symptoms in question. I assume out of the woods means recovery and remaining in them would mean…

He interrupts my thoughts, “I wouldn’t worry, you’ll have everything you need and he’s seen many recover from worse.”

“Thank you,” My voice is small, and to save myself from any more of this torment, I decide to pull the trigger for him. “Are you going to ask me about it?”

He bites his lip, “I was going to wait.”

I shrug my shoulders at him, at the Red King, and hope my mother isn’t turning in her grave, wherever it is. The gesture hurts but it’s fitting and I’d prefer to save my voice where I can.

“Why were you running? Why did you-” He cuts himself off, as if he thinks he’s going too fast too soon.

“Why did I lie?” I finish it for him, courage somehow building in me though I have no idea how, “I wanted to leave without notice and you would have stopped me.”

Let the cards fall where they may.