Page 26 of Ruby & Onyx

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine with us,” Gemma says. Her toothy grin is cheery and bright. “But if you do need anything at all, ring the bell on the bedside table. We’ll be here in a snap.” Their wings begin to flutter in unison, and their bodies lift from the ground ever so slightly. The hum of their wings follows them out the door as they leave.

I like those two, even if their jobs make me uncomfortable.

The fragrance of flowers and soap wafts in from the bath, beckoning me toward it. Like the bedroom, the ocean is fully visible through the bathroom’s glass wall. The mid-day sun is sparkling over the water, dancing across it in strands of silver and white. A wooden tub overflowing with billowing steam sits at the center. I don’t often take hot baths. Not ever, really. It’s a chore to boil the water, batch after batch, to fill the tub. But this, this beautiful, steaming bath is divine. I remove my clothes and lower myself into it without another thought. It’s warm and indulgent, and… maybe I can enjoy this, as well.

As I lay in the warm water, my attention catches on my left hand, on the birthmark on its back. The intricate lines that extend from each finger and gather into a swirl has darkened like I spent too much time in the sun, yet it only affected the mark. What was once the color of a healed-over scar is now several shades darker, almost brown. It’s never changed color before, not like this. How is that possible? And, why now? Why here?

It’s such an odd thing for someone to point out, not only because it’s rude to point out somebody else’s imperfections, but also because it’s so unremarkable. Of what interest could it possibly be to the prowlers? This mark is beginning to feel like the key to a door that I can’t find.

Less than a full day has passed since I encountered the three strangers in the forest. Since the red eyes that I thought were imaginary stole me away to the palace. Since I found out that my parents traded my freedom for their safety. Since I used magic to send a pie flying through the air. Everything that I know, or thought I knew, has changed. That realization settles in my stomach like curdled milk.

Would anyone notice if I walked right out the front doors and never returned?

I plunge my head below the surface and pray that I’ll wake from this bizarre dream. But while underneath the water, a funny sensation creeps up. It’s a gentle caress in my mind like a lover’s thumb drawing lazy circles on the most tender parts of my soul. It vanishes as soon as I emerge from the water. The emptiness that fills the void left by that feeling causes my heart to ache for something that I have never known.

* * *

The following morning, Gemma and Viola greet me with a chipperness that should be illegal at such an early hour as they tie back the curtains on the bed frame. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Gemma coos.

My eyes burn as they adjust to the sudden shift from total darkness to bright unfiltered morning light. Or is it still morning? Gods, I don’t know for sure. I ask, “What time is it?

Moose, who found his way back to the bedroom by nightfall, remains curled up by my side. He buries his head deeper into the blanket and lets out a disapproving huff.

“Around nine,” Viola answers.

Nine? In the morning? I can’t remember the last time I slept this late. I usually rise with the sun, unless the nightmares wake me sooner. Looking out the window, I confirm that the sun is, in fact, higher in the sky than I’m used to seeing when I wake. I don’t remember waking up at all last night. Not even once.

For the first time in years, I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat. No red eyes glared at me. I feel… rested.

“Their Royal Highnesses are waiting for you to join them for breakfast,” Viola says as she peruses the armoire. She drags her hand across each of the dresses crammed into it and then stops on a fabric the color of rubies. She pulls it out and twirls it around, inspecting it from various angles. “This will go nicely with your complexion, I think.”

The corner of my mouth perks up, if only to assure her of my thanks.

Nerves rumble viciously in my stomach. I’m not ready to speak to the king and queen. I thought that I would have more time to gather my thoughts so that I can plead a coherent and convincing case. My future depends on their answer.

My shoulders slump underneath the weight of that burden.

“Come on, Radya, you’re already late.” Gemma holds out a hand to help me out of bed. I follow her command and follow then Viola to the vanity, where she’s waiting with a silver brush. When I sit, she yanks my hair back and begins brushing furiously.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, sorry. Gemma and I were responsible for getting you to breakfast this morning, but we felt guilty waking you up. We let you sleep as long as we could, I promise, but they’re getting antsy. We need to make you presentable before… well, an hour ago.” Viola says as her nimble fingers work strands of my hair into braids, tying them just below the crown of my head.

“I appreciate you letting me sleep. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well, or so late,” I whisper, still struggling to rouse my brain after such a long night of deep, uninterrupted sleep.

Once Viola finds satisfaction with her work, she taps my shoulder and says, “Alright, let’s go.” The bottom half is left down, and I notice the lopsided cut. Maybe I’ll ask Viola to fix that later.

Thankfully, both Gemma and Viola walk me over to the dining room. Rather, I walk while they float next to me. This place is so massive, so overwhelming. I surely would get lost on my own. How could anyone ever feel at home here amongst the endless maze of hallways and rooms? It’s a mystery how a place can be so ornate and yet so nondescript at the same time. Every statue, every painting, every golden candlestick blurs together amid the endless hallways.

This place doesn’t feel like a home.

* * *

The king and queen sit across from each other near the end of the table. I feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web when their eyes meet mine. No amount of wiggling will set me free. I must look the spider in the face to set myself free.

“Glad to see that you’re finally awake,” the king says dryly. I wonder if that tone applies only to me, or if he speaks as stiffly with everyone he meets. He motions for me to sit at the head of the table, smack dab in the middle of them. Prime for an interrogation.

They have a polish that goes beyond learned grace. It is evident in the straight lines of their shoulders, the coolness of their composure, and the faint glow of their skin. Those ruby crowns were made for them, it seems. And in every way that they are regal, I am their opposite, no matter how hard Viola tries to make me look presentable. I could never carry myself with so much confidence.

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