“No,” Aurelia responded, staring back into Dorian’s vacant eyes.
Her body immediately tensed as the realization of her harsh words sunk in.It had come out of her mouth before she had considered the man standing before her, rumored to have not an ounce of humanity left. She did everything in her power to keep her emotions at bay, eyeing the man sitting upon the throne. However, to her surprise, Dorian let out a long, deep laugh.
“I’ll tell you what, Aurelia of Calathis. You’re more of a character than I ever gave you credit for. Not some doe-eyed princess, now that’s for sure...” He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll allow you to keep your head, but only because your arrival is quite a big deal for Damaris.” His lips widened into a smile, his vibrant eyes twinkling in dark amusement.
“You see, now that you are here, you have practically guaranteed our victory...and the war has not yet begun.” He leaned back on the throne, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “And, of course, I should probably keep you alive for bargaining...” He rolled his eyes and then motioned for his brother who had, up until now, distracted himself with the snow outside.
“Ambrose.” The brother’s head snapped to Dorian’s. “I’m putting you in charge of the sun witch. Seeing as you are the relations ambassador for other kingdoms, you’re in charge of making sure she doesn’t die.” A smirk crossed Dorian’s face before he continued. “But feel free to do whatever else you want with her.”
Aurelia froze to the spot as she examined the long-haired man once more. He was tall, his belt filled with weapons, and his thick muscles protruded from his clothing. More importantly, he was an advisor of the king and that in itself made him deadly enough. The thought ignited a spark of fear down her body.
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Very well,” he said, bored, as he examined something underneath his nails – blood? Someone’s guts he had cut out earlier? Aurelia’s stomach twisted.
Dorian stood from the throne. “Very well, go on.” He said as he stood from the throne, his dark gaze menacing. “I’ve got a war to win.”
Ambrose took his time walking to Aurelia and then gestured for her to follow him out of the throne room.
Just as they had reached the doors, Dorian added, “Oh, and Ambrose?”
Ambrose sighed with annoyance and turned to his brother, his eyebrows raised.
“Make sure she receives punishment for disobeying me.” With that, Dorian stood and strode out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.
Aurelia clenched her fists to keep them from shaking, from fear or the cold, she wasn’t sure. She could curse herself for her stupidity, but her brain was now trying everything in its power not to panic.
They paused outside of the throne room as Ambrose gave Aurelia a once-over, a look of disgust passing over his face.
“Gods, Ilaria,” He mumbled under his breath before he unsheathed a long, silver dagger as Aurelia closed her eyes tightly for whatever was about to occur.
Except...nothing did. He turned her around and sliced away the ropes that bound her wrists and she gasped in relief. Where the ropes had been were now sweltering blisters from the days on end of them rubbing against her skin. He grimaced at the sight of them and then motioned for her to follow him down the corridor.
She kept her head down as they passed more men in the hallway and went up a few staircases, the hallways they entered decorated in the same fashion as the others – candelabras, paintings framed in gold, and engraved ceilings that depicted different scenes of battle and the night sky. She followed Ambrose silently as they went up and up, the maze of the corridors reminding her of Calathis.
Yet the thought of Calathis made her heart hurt so much she thought she would stop breathing – so she shoved the thought down and continued climbing. Damaris was anything but Calathis – its narrow passageways, small arched windows, and dark atmosphere would never be welcome there. She kept repeating that to herself as they walked through the castle.
They eventually stopped at a wooden door with a small squared window near the top. Barely enough to get light, Aurelia’s heart began to hammer in her chest.
Ambrose gently pushed open the door and paused in the doorway. “Here’s a bathing chamber,” He said shortly as he set his gaze on her once more. Aurelia didn’t move.
“It’s for you to bathe,” He said gently, motioning for her to step inside. “Look for yourself.”
Aurelia gave him a pointed look. She refused to go near a room that she might never come out of. Her feet refused to cooperate, and so she stood there and watched as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Look,” he began. “You’re disgusting. You need a bath. And secondly, you’re not going to last a day in as little clothes as you’re wearing right now. So, please, get in the warm water, and I’ll go fetch you a fresh smock and wool cloak.”
“A smock?” Aurelia said, her voice cracking from lack of use.
“A smock,” He responded. “Like a dress? With....a lot of layers for warmth?” He paused and took in her appearance – her fighting trousers and corset top, from all those days ago when she had spent the afternoon sparring. “.....would you prefer trousers?”
Aurelia hesitantly shook her head. “A smock’s fine,” she said quietly, her head bowed. Whatever she could do to get into Ambrose’s good graces, she would. The more leniency he gave her, the greater chance she would be able to escape from this place. The sooner, the better.
She slowly stepped into the room – it was small, but he was right – it was warm. A large claw bathtub sat in the center, deep enough that she could rest her head underwater just like she had grown fond of. She turned and nodded at Ambrose, signifying that she was comfortable, and he shut the door behind her.
The second she heard his steps fade, however, she abandoned all thoughts of bathing and instead jumped to the window. If she was able to break the glass of the one small window, she could just barely squeeze herself through the small archway. An escape from this place before they committed whatever torture they were going to do to her was her only option left.
Aurelia began searching the room for something hard to break the glass, finding only melted candles and a variety of soaps in the dressers that were on the walls adjoining the bath. Remembering the dagger she had kept on her thigh, she climbed onto the edge of the bathtub, hopped to the dresser, and pulled her dagger out of her pants before scaling the wall of the window. Just as she was about to smash it, her dagger in hand, the door opened again to reveal Ambrose and a short old woman with grey hair.
“Damn it, Aurelia,” Ambrose said angrily and strode to her elevated figure, forcefully taking the dagger out of her hand and sheathing it on his person before pulling her down from the wall. She hadn’t even a moment to react before her beloved dagger was now in the hands of an enemy.
“I told you,” The woman murmured under her breath as she began filling the tub with hot water.
Aurelia’s cheeks burned as she watched her only weapon – her last emblem of home – be taken away by a sworn enemy because of a pathetic chance of escape. He turned to her sharply and gestured to the older woman. “This is Cressida. She will be assisting you with bathing.” He paused. “Seeing as you have already demonstrated your trustworthiness, she will stay with you the entire time.”
“Ah, do you like your girls primed and proper before you torture them?” Aurelia replied snarkily, folding her arms across her chest. Ambrose’s lips thinned, but he didn’t respond, only turning sharply on his heel and slamming the door behind him.
Cressida rolled her eyes. “Enough with the dramatics, girl. The water won’t stay warm in this weather. Either get in or freeze.”
Aurelia gave the woman a cold stare before she begrudgingly undressed in front of the woman, sliding her body beneath the water. She ignored Cressida’s intruding stares at the bruises that now covered her body and the red welts around her wrists and ankles. Despite herself, Aurelia couldn’t help but be relieved by the warm water and the lovely smell of…
“Lavender?” Aurelia asked suddenly, the familiar scent filling her nostrils, tilting her head towards Cressida.
She gave a short nod. “I thought it would be nice for you to have a piece of home.”
Tears pricked Aurelia’s eyelids and she pulled her head underwater before Cressida could notice.
Home.
Where even was home anymore? Who even was she in this world without her grandmother? Losing those pieces of herself had felt like she had been slowly sinking.Now it felt as if she were running out of air; as if she were suffocating inside herself and no one could let her out.
After her lungs could take it no more, Aurelia raised her head above the water sharply, gasping for air. Cressida glanced over at her, eyebrows raised, before handing her the soap. “Your hair. It’s disgusting.”
Aurelia only got out of the bath when the water had run cold and Cressida had noticed her shaking.
Though she had not said a word of the bruises or welts, she was extremely gentle when assisting Aurelia into the clothes she had found and Aurelia was grateful for it. Her attire was much more complicated than the warmer climates she had come from – thick layers of skirts adorned her waist that spread so wide Aurelia wasn’t sure she was going to fit in a doorway and an elaborate silk top tightly woven around her bodice. Over that, they had brought her a midnight blue wool cloak that was the warmest piece of them all and the only thing to stop Aurelia’s endless shivering. When Aurelia stepped into the castle hallway once more, she felt like a different person. Almost like she could fit in in Damaris, if she tried enough.
She cringed at the thought.
Ambrose was waiting on a bench at the end of the hallway when Aurelia and Cressida stepped out of the room. He strode towards them, silently nodding his thanks to Cressida.
“You look like a different person,” Ambrose said indifferently as Cressida walked off, leaving Aurelia fidgeting in the center of the hallway.
Aurelia shrugged. She hadn’t realized how much of a mess she had been until she had seen a glimpse in the mirror, but it didn’t matter. They already knew who she was and had captured her, thanks to Ilaria. Anger bubbled to the surface at the thought of her betrayal but she forced it down. It would do her no good to explode on the individual responsible for her welfare.
“Just so you know,” Ambrose continued. “If Dorian’s guards ever find you trying to escape, they will kill you.” He said it so lightly it took a moment before the words sunk in. She quickly turned her head to meet his gaze, fear flashing across her face. “I’m—“
“No,” He interrupted, shaking his head. “They will kill you, no matter who you are, no matter who you will be. Do you understand?”
Aurelia swallowed and nodded, staring down at the floor. Escaping was a dangerous game – before she risked it, she needed a better plan than a spontaneous jump out of a window. Though she didn't trust her captor for a moment, his words rang with truth. Dorian had seemed annoyed enough of keeping her alive just because she refused to kneel. A failed attempt at escaping would cost her life. That was the only thing she knew for certain – when she decided to run, the only option was to succeed.
“Okay.” Ambrose motioned towards the direction in which Cressida had just disappeared. “Come. I’ll take you to your room.”
Aurelia silently followed behind him as he made his way through the various tight corridors and passageways, the eyes of the painting subjects seeming to follow her as she walked. The sound of people soon faded as they approached a quieter part of the castle, going down a hallway that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in decades. Ambrose paused in front of a door on the end and opened it.
“Here.”
Aurelia furrowed her brows in confusion. “Not...a cell?” She said questioningly.
The part of the castle he had brought her to could not possibly be the dungeon – grand windows accented the end of the hallway, and the wooden doors did not look as if they were made to lock someone inside.
He chuckled. “No, not a cell. Would you prefer one?”
Aurelia gave Ambrose a dark look. “No, as a matter of fact, I would not.”
Ambrose gestured to the room as he opened the door. “Very well, then.”
Aurelia took a step forward but paused. “But...why?”
It didn’t make sense. After Dorian’s show in the throne room, she had been sure she would be sentenced to endless torture and chains.
Ambrose sighed. “Aurelia, do you really think the ambassador for other kingdoms would want another kingdom’s heir to be treated poorly on his watch?” He gave her a look. “No. My brother may be inhumane and make decisions based on his mood, but I do not. You are the princess of Calathis, and thus I will treat you so.”
“Ambrose,” Aurelia began. “Your brother kidnapped me and told you to punish me as you see fit. If you think I am going to believe a word that you say then you are mistaken.” Her eyes flashed as the turmoil of her emotions bubbled to the surface, no longer able to be pushed away.
Ambrose shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the anger that radiated off of Aurelia. “It is what had to be done. You will see, Aurelia. I will make you see. And then, you will understand.” He stepped back and motioned to the open door once more. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“I don’t trust you.” Aurelia responded, skeptical of his kindness as if she was not a prisoner in his beloved, supposedly wonderful kingdom. She turned away from his gaze and hesitantly stepped in the room, but a bright light behind her caught her attention. Aurelia spun around and watched as he cast a spell around the room, a purple light spreading along the walls of the room like a spiderweb.
“You’re locking me in?” She growled as she ran to the open doorway, but an invisible shield blocked her futile attempts at exiting.
Ambrose shrugged, a small smirk on his face. “I don’t trust you, either.”
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