12/17/17703Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5CtLVqoU6I
703Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlHebCYqQ4d
Word Count: 1543
703Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtWfiLSxWt5
VI
A scream tore through Calida's throat as her legs dangled thousands of feet above the ground. The sight of the green land far below her made her stomach plummet, so she stared up at Lucien, who held onto her arm tightly.
"Dammit, Calida!" He barked, before pulling her up.
The floor had suddenly become unlevel, and she lost her center of balance, tumbling to the ground when Lucien released her. A tornado drove through her head, and she groaned, leaning over and vomiting on the formerly spotless floor.
"How... ladylike." Lucien sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Calida cringed at the mess she made, and looked up at him with watery eyes. Her heart was racing, and her stomach was still churning. A foul taste resided in the back of her throat, and she swallowed in attempt to rid of it.
"Why..." She struggled with her words, "What... What happened? Where is the rest of the building? I could have fallen!"
The men from before. She hadn't seen them, but they did not sound at all frightened of a falling. Whe had they gone? From the heights that she had dangled from, they could not have possibly just fallen. They would have plummeted to their death.
"I warned you. And I caught you."
Her legs were shaking as she attempted to stand, so she drew her legs up and wrapped her trembling arms around them. There was no escaping, not when she could not control her limbs, and not when there didnt seem to be a way out of the room without descending to her demise.
A chill swept through the open windows, blowing the curtains, carrying in the faint sound of voices. There were more people? Calida sent a hesitant look towards Lucien, then pushed her slowly to her feet. Legs shaking, she stumbled towards the window, grasped the window sill tightly, and inched her head out. Another stronger breeze caught her hair, and she clenched the window until her knuckles were white.
The heights were dizzying, and she felt as though the tower was spinning in circles. Below were fields of green, and she could make out a forest to the west, and what seemed to be a village to the east. More towers that seemed to be just as high dotted the land, not touching the ground, connected by stone ways that were built upon nothing; like a castle in the sky.
"Were I not certain of the absurdness of the idea, I would believe you were frightened by heights." Lucien's voice was closer than she had anticipated, a mere yard from her.
She left from the window, surprised, and crashed into the table besides her. The mirror fell to the floor with a shatter of glass, and she numbly grasped it, ignoring the stabbing pain in her hip and her fingers as she held it towards Lucien pitifully when he stepped closer.
An eyebrow raised, Lucien stared at the sharp sharp in her hand, blood staining the edges. He sighed, shaking his head. Calida blushed, realising how pathetic she must have seemed, clumsy, bleeding, using a shard of glass as a weapon that would ultimately harm her more than it would ever harm Lucien. She hated that he had been correct: she was afraid of anything of high elevation. It was an irrational fear, as she had grown up climbing about everything she could. However, after the accident, she couldn't bear to be higher than her father's shoulders.
"This won't be quite as simple as I had hoped." He stepped back. "Rest. Leave the mess, it will be dealt with." He spared a quick glance out the window. "I have something to attend to, but I will be back later." When his gaze returned to her, his fascinating eyes were narrowed slightly. "Try not to destroy anything else."
As if their situation were simly nothing out of the ordinary, he turned to head for the door, and pushed it open. Her heart leaned, and she caught a glimpse of the short platform outside of the doors that he stepped on.
"Where are you going?" She yelled. What had happened? Hours ago, she assumed, she and Thea had been attending a party. Yet, somehow, Thea was dead, and she was sitting in a circle of glass, trapped in a strange tower with a strange boy. "You can't leave!"
The doors shut, cutting off her view of Lucien. There was a swoosh of air, and Calida's heart stopped, imagining the boy falling. She pushed herself up, trembling, and senselessly walked to the bed. Blood dripped to the polished wood floor. She sat on the bed, pulled her knees to her chest.
Then she pressed the heels of her bloodied hands to her eyes and cried as it all plummeted upon her.
A small hand clutched Calida's shoulder, shaking gently.
"Excuse me," said a small, timid, feminine voice.
Calida groaned, rolling to her size, away from the voice.
"Excuse me," it came again, "Lucien said to come here and tend to its resident. I'm assuming that is you?" Silence followed, and though Calida believed the girl had attempted to be silent, she breathed out loudly in fascinated, whispering, "You have beautiful hair."
Calida stiffened when she felt something brush her hair, and jolted up in bed. She blinked twice, rubbed her eyes, and attempted to run a hand through her tangled hair. Once her vision cleared, she looked to the side of the bed to find a women cowering before her.
Stuttering, the women suddenly dropped to her knees, bowing her head. "Y-Your Majesty! Oh, my deepest apologies, I-I did not realise."
The women is trembling, her eyes fixed on the floor. Calida studies her. She seems to be a few years older than herself, around Lucien's age. What caught her attention, however, was her hair-the same shade as Lucien's and the men that had barged in. Her eyes, stubbornly avoiding, were the same amber.
Calida cleared her throat. "W-What is your name?" She tried to make her voice sound confident and powerful-a queen's voice- but it was shaky and hoarse from fatigue and crying.
Raising her gaze to Calida, the girl peered at her, frightened and confused. "Isobel, Your Majesty. Do you not remember me?"
Blinking, Calida thought back to what Lucien had told her. They did not know that she was not the real queen, whoever she was. He had seemed determined to keep it that way, and seeing as she did not know the full extent of his power or danger, it seemed most logical and secure to perform as Lucien wished.
"Oh, I... apologize. It has been so long since..." Calida's mind blanked then, as she had no knowledge as to what had actually happened.
Isobel, however, evidently did not pick up on her ignorance, and proceded to obliviously answer her own question.
"It has been almost a decade." Her eyes were distant as she spoke. "I was twelve when we last saw you. It's a wonder: now that I am nineteen, it seems like I'm older than you." Isobel laughed. When Calida did not express similar humor, the girl looked up, and her face flashed with horror. "Oh-I-I apologize, Your M-Majesty." Her gaze lowered to the floor once more. "That was highly i-improper." She bit her lip.
Calida dismissed her fear with a hesitant nod. "Right. Um." She wracked her brain for knowledge of what she was to say. "Rise, Isobel. Why have you come?"
Despite her height when standing, Isobel kept her eyes lowered to the floor, not daring to look at Calida, as if she were to be turned to stone had she looked into her brown eyes.
"L-Lucien sent for me to clean the room and bandage you cut, Your Majesty. I will leave if you wish."
The mess that she had created earlier had been cleaned up, but the bed sheets were stained brown and crusted with dried blood. Her hand was throbbing, which had dulled while she'd slept, the cuts in her fingers were still open. To leave them untended to would not be the most ingenious idea.
"No. Stay, please." Calida held up her tainted hands. "They don't hurt as much anymore, but I would rather them be fixed."
Isobel's wide eyes peered at her, and Calida found herself transfixed by the color once more. The simplicity of all her features had always made her envious of others', Lucien's and Isobel's no exception.
"OK," Isobel stretch out her hand, "May I see your hand please, Your Highness?"
Unlike Lucien's, Isobel's hand was warm to the touch, not scorching. It was more comforting, like a small flame in a fire place. The thought brought a small smile to tug at her lips, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep it in. It reminded her of before the accident, before she became different, before everything.
Like the warmth of a small fireplace and a hot mug between her hands.
