“Alexandra, listen to me! You were born to do this. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you. Trust in yourself.”
Her words rang through my head over and over again as pain began to set in and the dream-like world she inhabited rushed away.
Ariel’s and Pandora’s messages were one in the same. Finally, after hearing it from multiple sources time and again, it had finally gotten through my thick skull and jaded heart.
They were right. I could do this.
As I gradually regained consciousness, the world around me began to take shape. My senses slowly awakened, and I became aware of a soft, diffused light filtering through my closed eyelids. With a gentle flutter, I opened my eyes, blinking against the newfound brightness. As my vision adjusted, I found myself in an opulent white room, faced with a surreal blend of luxury and elegance.
The room seemed to stretch endlessly, its walls adorned with intricate moldings that exuded a sense of grandeur. The white color scheme dominated everything, from the walls to the furniture, creating an atmosphere of purity and tranquility. The pristine marble floor beneath me was cool to the touch as I pushed from the bed I laid in and let my feet touch the ground.
All of my aches returned in a rush, and I had to sit back down on the edge of the bed to catch my breath, coaching myself through the pain. Using my right arm to push off of the bed was an awful idea, but I’d briefly forgotten that the damn harpy had used my arm to drag me around.
As I inhaled deeply, my ribs twinged with both old and new pain. For the first time, I found myself wishing I had just let Raph heal me completely. At least then I wouldn’t feel quite as beat up as I currently did in the home of our enemy.
Glancing briefly around, I noticed that there wasn’t even the slightest accent of gold present. I was the only source of color in this cold, stifling white room. Without a doubt, this room served as what I was sure was my new prison cell. Give it some padded walls, though, and it would feel much closer to fitting the whole solitary confinement vibe.
The air carried a faint aroma, a delicate blend of floral notes that seemed to emanate from unseen sources. As I used my left arm to push myself back to my feet, I realized that my footsteps were muffled by a luxurious and fluffy, white rug that covered parts of the floor. The soft rug offered a sense of false comfort with each step I took. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle and refusing to look at the damage I knew I would find there from the claws, I limped around the room.
In one corner, I found an intricately designed writing desk adorned with antique items like a quill, an inkwell, and parchment. A part of my soul longed to use them, to fall back into my world with my monsters before our lives were all on the line.
Dragging my gaze away from the desk, I continued my inspection of the room to see if there was anything else that could be of use to me in here. I hadn’t successfully used ink to create a world since pulling my monsters to real life, but I would absolutely try to use those items to pull them back into that theoretical world if it meant communicating with them and letting them know where I was. I was sure it was obvious who took me, but if I could give them details of what I saw around this prison, maybe the information could help pinpoint my location.
Speaking of, I spun around with a frown, noticing the lack of windows. I would have to pay careful attention to my surroundings if I had the chance to get out of this room.
A large mirror framed with intricate silver leaves caught my attention, reflecting back a disheveled version of myself still dressed in the clothes I wore for training. A nasty bruise was beginning to take shape on my temple toward my left eye, serving as a lovely reminder that I failed to fight back in time and was knocked out. My hair was an absolute mess of tangles, having been blown through the wind for who knows how long.
While I was still absorbing the state of my body, a soft creaking sound drew my attention toward the entrance. The door opened slowly, revealing a young woman I’d definitely never met before. She entered with a tentative step, her posture slightly hunched, as if she carried a blend of shyness and uncertainty around with her.
Her attire mirrored the elegance of the room, a uniform that blended seamlessly with the theme here. She wore a pristine white dress with delicate lace accents, and her hair was neatly pulled back into a simple bun. Her eyes, downcast and hesitant, held a gentle warmth within them as they darted up for a second to meet mine before falling back to the floor.
“I’ve come with refreshments while your bath is prepared.”
With a tray laden with a porcelain teapot and cups in her hands, she moved softly across the room. Her footsteps were light on the plush carpet, as if she aimed to be as unobtrusive as possible. Each movement was careful and deliberate, an apparent portrayal of her reserved nature, but I wouldn’t let down my guard because she seemed meek.
This could be the perfect ploy, tricking me into trusting a kind person who was likely forced into servitude here. My bleeding heart would want to take any person forced into servitude away from this place when I got out of here. And I was certain I would be rewarded with a knife in my back for my sympathy.
Upon reaching a small table, she gently sat the tray down, her fingers gliding gracefully over the delicate china. She spared a quick, furtive glance in my direction before lowering her gaze as my eyes narrowed on her.
As she began to pour the tea, her hands trembled slightly. Finally, I spoke up. “Why are you shaking? Here to poison me with tea? Don’t have the heart to kill me, but you haven’t been given a choice in the matter?”
The maid froze mid-pour, her delicate hand trembling even more as she held the teapot above the cup. Her eyes widened, and a mixture of shock and hurt flashed across her face. The accusation had clearly caught her off guard, and her shy demeanor seemed to crumble, replaced instead with a profound vulnerability.
"I...I would never..." Her voice quivered as she stammered, her gaze now fixed on the tea she was pouring. Her eyes welled with tears, her distress palpable.
I let out a soft growl of annoyance as doubt clogged my mind. What the hell was her angle here?
Was she just doing her job so she wasn’t punished, and here I was making it harder on the poor soul?
A familiar voice filled the air, making my hackles rise. I knew her intentions, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.
“Well, well, well,” Helen purred as she leaned against the open doorway. “Leave it to the girl who came from nothing to traumatize the poor help, who was sent to simply alleviate your hunger pangs. Maybe you aren’t as pure and kind as you thought you were, Alexandra.”
I pasted on a fake grin, as if I was greeting an old friend, as I noted the way terror filled the maid’s face. She froze in place at the sound of Helen’s voice. Taking a few steps forward and attempting to hide my pain, I put myself between the maid and our new guest.
“Can you really blame me for thinking you have a plan to kill me, Helen?” I asked nonchalantly, as if I wasn’t perturbed by her presence one bit. Holding my hand up to inspect my dirty nails, I sighed before continuing, “I mean really, you’ve hated me from the moment you saw me at DIA. Is it my beauty you’re jealous of or just the fact that I have three mates who would rather die than be touched by you?”
The maid gasped, most likely from shock, and I smiled. Clearly, no one here ever gave Helen shit, but I was more than happy to be the first guest to do so.
