MALACHI II

I headed back to my rooms without the slightest idea of where I would put the egg. I was uncomfortable holding something that was so valuable. If someone saw it, they would start thinking of all the ways they could use it. Whether it be for spells or medicines, it would result in the egg’s destruction. If anyone found out it was in my possession, it would be the end of possibly the last dragon. For something so priceless to slip between our fingers would be a crime. No one could find out we still had it.

I turned the corner of the long corridor and headed to my room entrance. I couldn’t help my sigh when I cracked the door open. It was a mess. The sitting room was littered with papers and platters of empty tea cups and crumb dusted plates. My writing desk was particularly bad. I did all my work there. My inkwell was left open, probably dried out by now. One pen still stuck out of it. Other pens were scattered around the desk, spilled from their cup. I walked over to the dirty tabletop to peer down at the parchment that was spread out. I had so much still to do. I frowned at the inkblot that stained the half finished paper. I would have to redo the entire thing. I pushed away from the desk and went to my bedroom, grinding my teeth in annoyance. Best to avoid work as long as one can.

This room was equally as messy. Dirty clothes were strewn about in piles on the floor. My bed sheet was coming off one of the corners, my blankets and pillows tangled in lumps. Some of my papers had even found their way to the end tables on either side of my bed. I sighed again, seeing spilled tea on a few documents. I would just have to deal with that later as well.

I went to the foot of my bed and opened up the dusty old trunk. The trunk was as old as the palace. It had been a gift from my grandmother for a long passed birthday. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but now it was my favorite piece of furniture. It was sturdy despite it’s years. The lock on the trunk was still good as well. I had trouble unlocking it without the key, a sign of quality. I placed the egg in there, among a few of my coats. I let the lid fall closed again and glanced around for the key. I found it right next to the leg of my wardrobe. I clicked the lock shut and tossed the key onto my bed. Hopefully I wouldn’t misplace it there.

I turned back to my filth and pinched the bridge of my nose. Would the princess even see my room on the night she came? She probably wouldn’t come in until our wedding night. That would give me plenty of time to clean it later. Since the nature of our engagement was so strange, Mother was allowing the wedding to take place a month after she arrived. Plenty of time for us to get to know one another and plenty of time for me to avoid cleaning. I was far too embarrassed to ask for the maid to come and clean it. Orla had been in charge of this wing’s tidiness and I had been trying to avoid her for now. Just like the piles of work I was ignoring, I pushed her out of my mind as best I could.

I headed back out of my rooms and down the long corridors. I absently found myself heading to the armory before I even realized. My feet took me in the direction without thinking. Shooting was my true passion. It was the way I calmed my nerves on particularly rough days. A few minutes pulling back the string of a bow turned my entire day around. A few hours outside hunting made me feel better for days after. The thrill of letting an arrow fly right at the target brought me joy I didn’t feel in much of anything else.

Entering the armory, I noticed one other person. It was one of our maids. She must have been cleaning up after some of the knights training. She heard me enter and turned. I had to bite my tongue when I saw who it was. Orla. Her strawberry blond hair wasn’t long enough to fit all the way in the bun she wore at the crown of her head. Pieces framed her face in soft waves. She had always looked like that; cutely messy. Orla had grown up in the palace with me. She was as familiar to me as the walls in my own room. Part of the reason I moved out of the royal wing was to see her more often. Now that fact just felt like a slap in the face. It was a mistake to get as close as I did with her. It soured our friendship.

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She frowned and looked away from me quickly, her cheeks turning pink. “Elisif sent word that she would be home by next evening.”

I briskly walked to the rack of finewood bows. I had my favorite one, but it was always hard to find it. I cupped my chin as my eyes scanned up and down the wall. I glanced over at her and wondered if I should say anything. She had stopped sweeping and one hand messed with a pin in her hair. Fussing with it only let more strands fall to the back of her neck. “How is your sister?” I eventually asked. I tried my best to keep my voice flat, but all I did was make it sound tight, stressed.

“She’s excited to work again actually,” Orla chuckled.

“I’m excited for all of this to be over,” I sighed.

Orla turned to face me after a moment. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but it died on her lips. Her kind eyes looked troubled. I turned away from her and reached for the bow I wanted. I plucked the sting as I spoke. “When the excitement is over, things can’t be what they used to be.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her cheeks reddened even more and her knuckles turned white on the handle of the broom.

I grabbed a quiver of arrows on my way out. I didn’t know what else to say to her. So I didn’t. I made my way to the abandoned courtyard on the eastern side of the palace. I couldn’t escape this place fast enough. The way to the abandoned courtyard was just that as well. Abandoned. No one but me and Jer used the old, forgotten garden anymore. It was our get away spot. Neither of us ever questioned each other when we met out there either. It was a mutual understanding.

The courtyard itself was overgrown with ivy and bushes. Some vines climbed up the walls, tendrils digging into old stone bricks. The fountain in the center had green water and ragged lily pads in it. The basin had a deep crack along one side, making me wonder how it still held water. There was only one stone path to it. The rest of the pathing had broken and been overtaken by grass. On the farthest wall away from the doors was an old rusted gate. Beyond that gate was a forest. My forest. No one ever used this stretch of trees for anything. I considered it my personal sanctuary. I used the courtyard as a means to hunt and Jeremiah used it as a means to read. We were very different but fundamentally we wanted the same thing. A moment of peace.

I dropped my long coat at the gate and slung the arrows over my shoulder. I unbuttoned my sleeves and rolled them up. My clothes would be completely soiled by the time I was done. I never held back out here. I headed into the woods, walking low, careful not to step on any twigs. It would scare off any animals nearby. My steps were almost perfectly silent. I had to strain to hear my foot brush against any grass. Once I saw movement through the trees, I notched an arrow in the bow with deft hands. I took aim and breathed in deeply. I released the arrow and it took flight. It landed exactly where I pictured it going. A deer cried out in shock and fell. It was a clean shot. I rushed over to my fallen prey and reclaimed my arrow. I leaned down to the still warm animal and sank my teeth into it. My fangs punctured it’s hide with ease and I started to drink. The thick liquid filled my mouth and hit the bottom of my stomach hard. I hadn’t eaten all night.

Deer blood wasn’t my favorite, but I did like when it was fresh. Drinking the more socially accepted cold blood drained by the butcher was bland in comparison. By the time it was served to us, it had already started to separate. Mixing it with wine made it bearable, but just barely. If more vampires drank like this, sinking teeth into a fresh kill, I felt there would be no need to keep blood bonding traditions. Too many of my people would view their partners as nothing but food. It was more transactional than a true marriage. It was far more barbaric than what I did in my forest.

Once I had my fill, I sat back and leaned against a tree. I drug my hand across my mouth, an iron colored smear staining my skin. Picking up my bow once again, I turned my eyes upward. The sun was going to rise soon. The pale half moon was sinking into the background for her brighter brother. I closed my eyes and let myself fall deeper into my sanctuary. I heard the soft rustle of feathers against tree leaves, the breaking twig under a paw. Life was all around me. The ocean breeze made the air salty and cool in the morning light. This was true peace. This was where I could be myself. I didn’t have the pressures of a kingdom looming over me. I didn’t have to be perfectly composed at every moment out here. I could just exist. I could escape my dreadful reality, even if it was only for a day.