Page 14 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
He ignored my outburst as though I was the woman from the painting with nothing but a black widow for my mouth.
“I can help you, Your Highness.” Francis smiled at me again, no trace of the sorry in his eyes from a moment ago.
I wanted to tell him to stay away from me, but the pain—the fire—in my body made it so all I was capable of was wailing, until my throat was on fire too.
It didn’t take long for this torture to reach my head, forcing my consciousness to give in.
I fell back on the ground as my vision blurred and darkened.
Francis picked me up, walking back inside the castle, and I was too weak to fight back.
The last thing I heard was Francis’ exhausted sigh, right before the world went completely black and disappeared. Again.
Chapter 5
Gruesome Beasts
The next few days—perhaps even a week—I was in and out of the oblivion, unable to sit up on the bed, most certainly unable to escape. When I did wake up, I was greeted with the darkness of that eerie room that gave me chills.
The dark green sheets on the bed were cold and sticky from my sweat. My skin prickled with an uncomfortable ache all over my body. My muscles felt weak, as if someone pulled and stretched them for hours without stopping.
Every time I woke I tried to think of an escape plan, but all I was left with was pain all over my body that drowned me into nothingness again and again.
Until one day the pain was finally gone, as though it was no more than a twisted jest of my imagination—a dream even.
For the first time in longer than I could remember everything seemed peaceful.
“Oh, good, you are awake!” An overly enthusiastic voice exclaimed, which caused me to jolt up on the bed. A strange woman stood in the center of the room, smiling excitedly. Was she here to finally kill me? “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, lighting a candle in her hand.
Moving away from her until my back touched the bed frame, I eyed her expectedly. The woman was grinning at me without saying a word. What in the Kingdom did she want from me?
The woman looked to be around twenty years of age, though I could not be certain. She marveled at me with her warm brown eyes that reflected the candlelight in her hands; the bright smile did not leave her face for even a second. Her golden dark skin shone even in that lightless room, as if she was sunshine herself. She moved her black curls away from her face, taking a step towards me.
“How are you feeling? I brought you some blood, it should make you feel better.” She stretched out her hand with a goblet of wine.Blood. Not wine. A shiver went through my body at the realization of what she expected me to do. “I am so excited to have you in our family! Here. Drink it.”
A family? Was she mad? I moved farther away, not wishing to believe all of this was actually happening. It was all a jest, a prank. I had gone mad.
“All right...” the sunshine woman said, stretching out the first syllable. She placed the glass on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed. “Gods, it is so dark in this room, no wonder you looked like a scared animal.” She laughed, looking around. “I told them I should have gone to meet you first, but they never listen.” She mumbled more to herself than to me.
My eyes grew wide. I wished to scream at her to leave me alone for good, but I seemed to have lost my voice. PerhapsI waslike a wild animal: unable to scream, unable to move. It was a wonder I did not forget how to breathe as well, for my body seemed to completely give up on following any of my commands.
I sat on the bed, watching the stranger's every move, clutching at every word that left her mouth. She did not seem to care for my reaction; in fact, I was not even sure she remembered I was here. Her fingers brushed over her sleeves, playing with the golden material. It did not appear she was here to hurt me, though I did not allow myself to even blink. I could not trust a soul here and I would never forget that.
After a few moments, the woman’s eyes found mine once again, and the bright smile returned to her face. “I will bring you more candles, or we could go find something for your room together.” She looked at me expectedly, as though it was my turn to speak, but I merely glared at her. “Lord, where are my manners?” The woman laughed, shaking her head. “I am Florence! You are—Cordelia, correct?” Her hand stretched out in an attempt to meet mine. My eyes tried to catch a glimpse of dishonesty in her features, something to prove her true nature, something to show me the danger I found myself in.
