Those icy, blue eyes of Cordelia stared straight at Elena, but bore no reaction to the latter’s presence. In fact, they carried no feelings at all. Any stranger who glanced her way would conclude that the girl could not feel at all, an empty puppet simply playing the part of a living being.
“Please, heal the ruffian lying on the floor. Enough so that he won’t die, but not enough as to be a threat.”
“Yes, Master.” Cordelia bowed dutifully. She raised her hand and aimed her dead eyes at Miles, whose wounds showered his body with the taint of blood. “Curar… cuerpo.”
As her lips released the sound of that simple incantation, Miles’s skin began to glow blue. Grunts of pain came out of his lips, but despite that, his condition was improving. Tissue began to cover the hole on his chest, and the red bruises all over his face gave way to a light brown that matched the rest of his skin.
Noticing his healed wounds, Miles immediately tried to get up; a strong pain from his back put a halt to that attempt.
Cordelia had followed the order to the letter. Miles’ health was such that he would end the day alive, but had no chance to carry on the fight.
“Take care of yourself until our next bout.” The target of Thales’ eyes switched. “Cordelia, we are leaving.”
“Yes, Master.” Cordelia uttered again the same response as before, unblinking like a machine. She stepped forward to where Thales and Elena were standing.
It was then that her doll-like face was touched by the light of the moon. Elena stared intensely at her petite body, awaiting eagerly to be washed away by the girl’s beauty as it drew ever closer to her vigilant eyes.
Albeit the current situation was most unfortunate, so long as she could please her eyes with the sight of that blooming flower, then maybe she’d enjoy a brief moment of respite.
Instead, the orchid that presented itself before her eyes was one with withered petals. The silk-like skin that shaped Cordelia’s face had become spoiled by the presence of bruises, one underneath her nose and one on each cheek. Those blue eyes Elena found so alluring had their beauty eclipsed by the black cue right underneath them, evidence of the damage they’d taken.
Just as before, it was correct to say Cordelia’s face resembled a doll. But before, she resembled a collector’s doll, perfect in skin and with delicate features. Now, it was more appropriate to call her a beaten kids’ plaything, like a Barbie whose owner had been far too rough on her.
“Cordelia! What—What happened to you?”
Her roar carried a mixture of emotions; wrath, dismay, despair. Elena took a step back, reeling from the agonizing frame in front of her. Her eye twitched, and her hand clung to her beating heart. Nonetheless, Cordelia seemed immune to the effects of her concern, as she simply walked right next to Elena, her ears acting deaf and her pupils not even moving to bless Elena with their presence.
“This was her reward for her disobedience ,” Thales explained. “Albeit the King had no love for the protesters, casting magic in the public eye was a sin most blasphemous.”
A knot tied itself within Elena’s throat. Her fists were clenched, perhaps because they too could not bear to witness the state of the young lady.
Elena blessed Miles with her last soulful look of the night. The young man was not only too weak to fight, he was too weak to speak, too weak to so much as raise his head and look her in the eyes. But Elena felt the message her lips would send would nevertheless reach its destination.
“I’m going with them. I can’t leave Cordelia behind… so please, come save us.”
Elena’s words were carved out of foolish ambition. She spoke as if she was making a choice to leave with Thales, and she spoke as if there was anything she could do to help Cordelia. Yet, that she still had the strength to utter those words sprung her heart to bounce with pride, as they carried her hope within their sound. So long as she believed that everything would turn out well, she was willing to push forward, to face any threat that came her way.
“Now, lady Elena, let us return to the castle,” Thales said. He drew his sword slightly, its sound his way of reminding her of what disobedience entailed.
She needed to cling to that hope, to counter the suspicion, or perhaps worry, that nothing she did could help Cordelia in any way.
And yet, Elena wanted to try. To fight
Because if she let such a beautiful girl suffer…
If she sat idly by without standing up for what she believes…
I’d rather die a thousand times!
She could not allow herself to be powerless. Even if the road ahead led to her demise, she’d venture said road if it meant protecting that girl who’d touched her heart.
With Cordelia as the fuel for her resolve, Elena turned around, puffing her chest, and walked out of the alleyway alongside Thales and Cordelia.
----------------------------------------
The room she saw was plain.
While she acknowledged that the room was filled with paintings and pillars of elaborate craft, her eyes refused to give them an ounce of care. For Elena, all this room contained was a table with which to playfully pound with her anxious hands.
As soon as they set foot in the royal palace, she and Cordelia were separated. She was brought to the same room where she’d awoken the previous day, where she spent the night. Once the morning came, Thales appeared and escorted her into this room, then told he to take a seat as he stood guard by the door, the two of them waiting for the prince to arrive. Cordelia, meanwhile, was ordered to attend the gardens, as Thales revealed after much pestering from Elena.
But while Elena may have lost sight of her body, nothing could remove Cordelia from her mind. The passage of time hurt Elena, as each second was spent reminiscing on that alarming portrait she’d been witness to last night.
Escape plans began to form in her mind. They were crafted not with use of careful consideration, the kind to ensure success, Rather, they were built out of a gallant desire, molded by the wish of being the one to grab that girl by the hand and drag her away from danger.
A creak struck her ears. Through the door, a young man of average stature and blonde hair came in. It was none other than Charles, prince of the Kingdom of Luzterna, who waved a heavy smile on his face. Despite his status, Elena’s heart could not be swayed by his elegance, or lack thereof. Compared to the last time she’d seen him, his looks were a marked improvement. His hair was properly combed, for one, and he wore blue regalia worthy of a royal. Yet his trousers were clearly a size too big for him, and his sleeves did not fully cover his arms. This all served to demolish any princely charm he might have, in spite of his face not being too ugly to look at.
Of course, he could be the sexiest man alive, and it would have no impact on the spite that now filled Elena’s eyes. She glared intensely at him with a furrowed brow and a finger on her chin, wishing deeply to scorch him alive in the spot. It could not differ more from the green look of glee Charles gave in response, accompanied by a wide, inviting smile.
He kept licking his lips, evidence of wanting to speak, but struggling to let the words out. Eventually, he said, “I’m so, so grateful to have you back. I thought those protesters harmed you.”
“What did you do to Cordelia?” Elena curtly replied. She cared not for whatever the young man had to say; her aim was one and one alone. The vitriol with which she spoke was evident, leading Charles to blink rapidly. Only then, did the depth of her anger seem to sink in.
“Do you mean—”
“She means Number 9, milord,” Thales said, stepping into the conversation.
“Oh, her. Well”—he scratched the back of his head— ”after Thales informed him of her behavior in the city, my father gave her an appropriate punishment.” He began twiddling his fingers upon seeing Elena’s face, which only seemed to flare up further. “But we’re getting off-topic—”
“I don’t think so.” Elena halted his attempt to sway the course of the conversation. She puffed her chest and turned up the heat of her stare. “What gives you the right to subject a girl to something like that?”
Charles just silently played with the neckline of his shirt, then stared at Thales, expecting perhaps a lifeline to be thrown his way. When that didn’t arrive, he spouted out the truth. “Well, she’s a Marked, you know. That is the treatment they deserve.”
He spoke naturally, as if he was telling the weather. Elena, disgusted with his words, flew into a fit of rage. “That of a slave?” she asked, punctuating the sound of each word.
“I suppose you could say that. As you must know, that is what the Goddess ordered for the Marked following the war.”
Elena’s heartbeat increased with every syllable his mouth spouted, raw dread filling her body and cooling her skin.
Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Why she’d been captured the day she’d first arrived. Why there were riots on the streets. And most important of all, why Cordelia’s eyes were devoid of emotion, why her clothes were in such a dismal state, why she was referred to by a number instead of a name.
That girl who’d quickly won over Elena’s heart—within these royal walls, she was no better than a slave, a simple tool the royals employed for housekeeping and other tasks. That was the fate that had befallen her, all for the crime of being born with a mark on her arm.
Elena cast her gaze downward, with eyes so swollen they were about to burst. She remained in silence, as Charles kept talking, explaining the details about why the Marked’s oppression was justified in his eyes; Elena had no mind to pay him or his lore, as she was too caught in her emotions, and no explanation could make such an abhorrent act as slavery be justified, anyway.
That was, until something he said actually reached her ears. “...I understand why seeing her like that must be hard for you, as you yourself carry a mark.”
Clarity hit Elena in the form of wind. He’d just reminded her of a fact she’d been neglecting, perhaps because it was such a harrowing truth. This fate Cordelia was a victim of was not one exclusive to her. Not only were there likely many others under the same curse, but she herself was one of them.
“But you need not worry. I will make sure that nobody finds out, and that you’re treated with the utmost of graces.”
Elena couldn’t avoid tilting her head. Right after going on a tangent about why the Marked deserved no rights, he insisted she had nothing to worry about. “Why are you treating me like this?”
Charles shut his eyes, and gave a grin that rode the line between warm and devilish. He stood up, and began wandering the room, much to Elena’s confusion. He looked wistfully, and eventually spoke.
“I just… had my heart stolen.”
“Huh? By me?”
“Indeed.” Charles stared at her, his eyes carrying the essence of a lovesick puppy. The intensity of his stare was such, that Elena found it a bit suffocating. He then added, “I remember that sunset. I was walking by the beach, unsure of what to do with my life—”
“Uhmmm, you’re a prince. I don’t think you should be struggling too much with that.”
“—and then, I saw you.”
“Wait, what? You were the one who found me?”
“Yes. You were lying on the sand, your hair washed by the incoming waves. Although I first caught sight of you from far away, your beauty captivated me instantly, and the spell only proved stronger as I grew closer.”
“My… beauty?” Elena gave her own body a passing glance, her mind needing a refresher as to what it looked like. She wasn’t used to such a pleasing term as beauty to be assigned to her.
“As soon my eyes caught a glimpse of you, I knew I had to make you my wife. I knew… that I loved you!”
Charles gave his declaration with all the strength of his chest, and it managed to pierce Elena’s heart—just not in the way he hoped. Instead, she felt great pain, as she gripped her dress. “No, you don’t,” Elena said, albeit only with the strength of a mutter.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Even if she hadn’t her current hatred for Charles’ self, she’d deny his love. It was a foolish, so-called love, one born from a first sight that was filled with misunderstanding. It was not one aimed at the real person who called herself Elena; it was love for the person who once resided inside this body, a body that she was simply borrowing.
Felt like an insult almost, a slap in the face. To hear an I love you, that phrase she’d always yearned to hear back in her original world, directed at herself, but only thanks to a charm that was not hers. She could thus not be accepting of such a sentiment, as surely it would dissipate were he to see the real, ugly self dwelling inside her body.
But in spite of it all, there still remained a reason for her to accept his proposal, one that much as she might want to, she could not overlook.
“So please… marry me.” Charles stretched out his hand. “To have you at my side… it would make me the happiest man in the world. And you would live the life of a queen, free of the suffering your mark would bring upon you.”
Elena’s expression lit up at the sound of his words. If it’s true that the treatment of the Marked was that abhorrent, then to take his hand in marriage was a no-brainer.
Why struggle, why be subject to the whims of oppression and cruelty, when she could be the wife of one of the most powerful people in the land?
That was the question that swam through her mind, which was an ocean of contradictions. Her whole past life she’d been raised with progressive values, and despite holding those convictions close to her heart, the option still seemed appealing. Who could judge her, for casting those ideals aside, if it meant living a life of vice and pleasure? All at the cost of being the wife of a man she didn’t care for—a price women often had the misfortune of paying anyway.
With her decision made, Elena rose to her feet. She stared intensely at his hand, then began reaching for it with her slim fingers. Her hand was shaking, clad in anxiety about what it was about to do.
But suddenly, the hesitation was whisked away, as in one swift movement, Elena solidified her choice.
A thundering smack was heard, followed by the audible gasp the observing Thales let out.
With the force of a speeding truck, the palm of Elena’s hand slapped Charles right cheek, leaking a red mark. He recoiled backward from the impact, barely managing to keep his footing, his back scraping the wall behind him.
With a raised chin and eyes so scorching they could set a forest ablaze, Elena wasted no time letting her stance clear. “You think I will sit by, merrily being your little wife, as you oppress those you see as beneath you? You think I can just go along and pretend to love someone who’s willing to enslave another fellow human? Because let me tell you, I’d rather die a thousand times!”
“Lady Elena, remain quiet,” Thales cut in, hand on his blade.
“Halt, Thales,” Charles ordered. “I’ll admit, I expected you to refuse at first. But I don’t mind that. Stubbornness is a quality I admire in a woman, actually.” Stars were written on his pupils, as if he actually enjoyed the sight of Elena standing up to him. “But I know in due time, you’ll grow to reassess my proposal. Until that day comes, you can be a guest in the palace.”
“Ugh, what is wrong with you?” She rolled her eyes. “Are you really that horny that you’ll even forgive me slapping you just because I’m pretty? You don’t know anything about me, what do you even see in me?”
“That’s exactly it! You’re like a mystery. You have no past, you showed no awe at being stuck at the palace. I just… think you’re really… interesting.”
Of course HE would say the line.
Elena sighed, bringing her palm on to her face.
Much as she hated this whole scenario, she could not deny that his flattering perception of her could come in handy. If he really wanted to host her, in the unwise hope that she’d turn her opinion on him around, then so be it.
“Very well then,” Elena said, her voice playing the role of a noblewoman, “if you want me to feel like a guest, then surely it would be no problem if I wandered the gardens by myself for a little bit?”
“Of course not, my beloved. Thales, please let her go.”
“Your Highness, are you sure this is wise? To allow her to live here, despite rejecting you.”
“Worrying about being wise is a concern of a warrior, Thales. I, who live a life of privilege, would rather not drown myself with such worries. If I want her as my wife, nobody will prevent that. Not her, nor you, understood?”
With a defeated sigh, Thales said, “Understood, your Highness.” He stepped aside, letting Elena pass through the door, who did so with only one objective in mind.
----------------------------------------
Wandering through the Royal Gardens seemed an endless endeavor. Green was the overwhelming cue that filled the eye no matter where one may look, with bushes and trees that were as tall as they were picturesque. Other colors sometimes snuck into view, originating from the numerous flowers that sprung life to the otherwise lifeless palace.
Elena, however, did not allow herself the opportunity to appreciate the plants. She wasn’t much of a gardener, so while she could tell there was a wide variety of flowers on offer, she wasn’t one to gain much from inspecting or smelling them.
Besides, there was only one flower in this whole garden prone to the beauty needed to make her heart dance feverishly. In search of her, she’d maintain a steady gait for years, were it to come down to that.
Even if it meant running with heels, as she was doing now.
Where on Earth is this girl? My feet are killing me.
Elena cast her gaze in all directions, met with disappointment no matter where it went. The gardens were spacious enough that it was possible to wander around for a significant period of time only seeing plant life. It was a good thing the palace itself stood so tall, else it’d be easy to get lost, not unlike a hedge maze.
But if there was one good thing about that lifeless stream of green, it was that any and all sound stood out. As Elena was taking a breather, hunching down from tiredness, her ears began to make out the nearby sound of clipping shears, likely fighting a mighty brawl with rebellious vines.
“That must be her,” Elena said out loud, with little in the way of proof but also in the way of doubt. Swallowing her saliva, she prepared for one last hurrah, one last sprint with the sound as her guide.
To her welcome surprise, her assessment had been right on the money.
“Cordelia, there you are. Finally, I found you. You have NO idea how long I’ve been looking for you. I needed to see—”
The relief Elena wore was soon extinguished, as she began to choke on her own words upon witnessing Cordelia’s reaction—or rather, the lack of it. Those blue eyes of hers were not granting Elena a dive into their oceanic depths, instead remaining set on the vines she was relentlessly cutting down, making use of shears almost as tall as her body.
Elena’s throat turned sour, not from the heat but rather from concern. As the two remained in silence, she began to fear their relationship had somehow reset in the time they were separated. But she cast those doubts aside for a moment, and rebuilt her smile, before adding, “Anyway, now that we’re here, all alone, we can devise a way to leave this crazy place.”
Both of the shears’ scissors crashed into one another, their collision generating such a loud sound it startled Elena a little. But if their sound was what pierced her ears, what pierced her heart was that it was Cordelia’s sole response, as she again denied Elena so much as a glance, let alone a word.
A long, long breath began to fill Elena’s nostrils. Whatever was going on, it was evident her words were not reaching the girl. Thus, she changed her tone, going from boisterous to genuine and solemn. “Listen. I can see from your face alone that you’re not treated well here. Your eyes show they’ve been through hell, your arms have scratches. And worst of all, you have no freedom. You’re… you’re a slave! Treated as no better than the tool you hold in your hands.”
Cordelia continued her gardening as normal, unaffected by Elena’s statements, which were meant to cause her to reflect. All that Cordelia afforded her for a reply was a light nod, as if acknowledging Elena’s words as true, yet denying them of the weight they deserved.
Elena clenched her teeth for a second, but she then shook her head wildly, as if attempting to scatter her doubts away. No matter what, she would not be stopped. She would continue giving voice to her resolve.
“So please, Cordelia, let me help you. Don’t you want to lead a life of freedom, where you serve nobody? I’m sure you do. So, you need to get out of here!”
Once again, her words were swollen by the wind, reaching nobody.
Frustration began to set in. Was Cordelia truly a robot, a soulless being that cared not for her own self? That could not be. Earlier, Elena had seen hints of the girl who hid underneath that robotic mask, who wore a smile sweet as sugar. It wasn’t much, but she wanted to believe there was more to Cordelia to be uncovered, further reaches of her soul that Elena had yet to explore.
“I need you to get out of here,” she yelled, a yell that soared out of her throat with force. “I can’t simply stand by as you get hurt. So please, when Miles comes… leave with me. I need you to come with me.”
That moment of ire was all it took for all pretenses of selflessness to be thrown away. It wasn’t just that she wanted Cordelia not to be hurt. She wanted to be the one to save her. To take her hand and brisk her away from the evils of the world.
Even if it was against Cordelia’s own wishes.
Complete silence was what she received as an answer to her speech. This was an improvement, as it meant the shears had paused in their work, meaning Cordelia had been reached by her words. Such was their success, that her words even got Cordelia to turn around and face Elena, her wounds now in full display.
With a soft, yet hollow tone, Cordelia at last spoke. “I cannot.”
A curt sentence. That was all that Elena, who met it with rapid breathing and a clenched fist, got for a response.
Stammering, Elena said, “Why not? Can’t you see that you’re—.”
“The world is dangerous out there,” Cordelia cut in. “I never want to leave these walls ever again.”
“Why?” That was all Elena’s mouth could spout.
“My living situation is better than most Marked. I was treated far worse before Master Thales found me and brought me here.”
Cordelia gave her explanation completely matter-of-factly, yet with every letter uttered, Elena seemed to only sink further and further into despair.
“Why…”
“So while I understand your concern, Lady Elena, I must reject your offer.”
“Why…”
“I may not be happy here, but at least I know Master Thales will stand up for me and prevent me from being killed.”
“Why…”
Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy…
No other thought reached Elena’s head.
Why was she willing to subject herself to this? Why wasn’t she seeking greener pastures?
Why was she being so foolish?
Why was she being so, so, so…
“Why must you always be so stubborn, Mara?”
She’d closed her eyes as she raised her question, and opened them instantly upon finishing it.
It had come out instinctively, a habit born out of repeated wording of similar questions.
That name that had just slipped out of her lips. It was not the name of the girl in front of her, who now stared in confusion with her blue eyes. And yet, she’d blurted out that name without hesitation, as if her tongue had a life of its own.
With eyes drenched in tears, anger formed within Elena’s face. Such obstinate behavior had flared up something within her, as she replaced her usual pleasing look with a deathly, aggressive glare, before huffing, “Fine, then. Do what you want, you stupid girl! But let me tell you one, last thing: if something happens to you, I won’t share a tear, you hear me?”
She turned around and stormed out of Cordelia’s sight. Before she could fully leave it, she heard her name being called.
“Lady Elena, wait!”
“I told you not to call me that.”
Elena continued walking, escaping from Cordelia’s peripheral vision. She walked a decent distance, as long as her tired legs could last.
Her fury, however, didn’t last as long, as regret had fully swallowed her in the time it took her breath to regain its normal rhythm.
“I said some nasty things back there,” she thought out loud. “I guess I couldn’t help myself. That idiot…”
The anger within Elena was given fuel by Cordelia, who’d unintentionally awoken a memory deep within her. The pain of that memory was so boiling, that she couldn’t maintain her emotions in check. But thinking it over, it was understandable that Cordelia would not be so eager to simply abandon her life; even if her current situation was bad, it could always be worse.
But possessing that understanding did not mean that Elena was willing to throw the towel. Even if she may not see it now, she was sure that one day, Cordelia would realize the wonders of freedom, and take her hand.
It may take a while, but Elena was willing to wait.
“I should apologize. It was not right for me to explode like that. Not when it wasn’t really her fault.”
She admitted she was, partly, at fault. She’d never deny being correct in feeling wrath, but where she’d gone too far was in screaming at her, all while blaming her for sins that were not her own.
Thus, she decided to return to where that girl stood, and give out an apology.
Before beginning to move her feet, she took a second not only for a breather, but to give a quick look at her surroundings. Albeit she was not one to care for gardening, even she could admire the beauty of the hive of roses that adorned the nearby bush. They were so plentiful and full of elegance, that their scarlet red even overwhelmed the ever-present green that the gardens were so abundant with.
In fact, the roses’ were of such a captivating color, that their red hue overtook not only her view of the garden, but also her view of the sky, her view of the entire world.
She felt a strange peace fill her stomach, which lasted until the instant when she realized it was not the beauty of the flowers what had painted her world red.
It was her blood.
“Hel—”
With blood blocking her vision and a mouth blocking any potential scream from leaking out of her mouth, Elena could now feel the sharp edge of the knife that had pierced her throat. It began traveling down her neck, before suddenly abandoning her flesh, then returning again in brisk fashion, now piercing her back.
Seconds took hours, as the familiarity of this scenario presented itself before Elena.
This was death. She was dying. Soon enough, she would die.
The world began to lose its shape, becoming distorted. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, then closed them again, so on and so forth, as if trying not to fall asleep. Each time she closed them, it was with the knowledge they might not open again for the remainder of her life.
In truth, she actually hoped they would not open.
Death was a process that could be needlessly dragged out. Although she did live with a fear of death, once within the grasp of the arms of death, there was no need to struggle against its embrace with pointless stubbornness. Even less so, when she knew her eyes would open again eventually.
Thus, she simply relaxed, and calmly awaited for her breath to dissipate, knowing that her attacker’s efforts were a waste, that she’d soon rise again.
Yet, any attempt at calmness would be spoiled, as before her soul could vanish from her body, one last sound reached her ears.
“Elena!”
The crying sound of a girl, whose blue eyes Elena could make out, even when their sight was clouded by the surrounding dark fog of death.
With such a presence as its last sight, Elena’s soul was restless.
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t hear, or see any further. By all accounts, the existence known as Elena had vanished from this realm.
And yet, with nobody besides the endless void she found herself for a witness, Elena made a vow. A vow so strong, it resounded across the entire realm of the dead.
Even if I have to die a thousand times…I will not give up. I will return, and I will save you.