Misty
A freakin’ week has passed in my confinement. To say I’m losing my mind is the least of it. On the first day in Oasia, I lost my mind and body to Cole, spending the night beside him–learning the secrets of his body until the sheets smelled like us, and we slumped into a dead kind of sleep.
But that was a week ago. In between, I’ve been pacing the apartment, slowly fading into the wallpaper, watching wolves dart around the courtyard a few stories below. Every day is the same. I wake up–alone. I eat breakfast by myself. Lavender–a pretty, middle-aged woman–comes to dress me in beautiful dresses that cover nearly every inch of my skin–not that I’m going anywhere, though. She hasn’t spoken a word to me, and she barely looks me in the eye.
Yesterday, Georgia finally came to see me. Apparently, she’s been hoarded away as well, but Declan keeps her company. Luke is in the same boat. Alone, well fed and well dressed, but otherwise occupied with a special project Cole bestowed upon him, but I haven’t seen Luke since we arrived.
Cole… well, admittedly I haven’t seen him much, either. He leaves in the early hours of the morning to do… Alpha King things, I assume. Juggling a broken kingdom on the edge of war can’t be easy because he stumbles back into our room long after the sun’s gone down, and I’ve gone to bed. Most nights, I don’t even notice his arrival. Last night, however, I felt him slide into bed. He rolled over on the very edge of the mattress, trying not to wake me. I think, in reality, he’d been trying to keep a great distance between us.
But I’m lonely. I miss my family. I miss someone else’s touch, and he is the only person I… think about, in general. It’s an overwhelming feeling–this desire that won’t die out, even now that I’m somewhat safe. When I arrived in Oasia, and we slept together again, I chalked it up to basic, primal, animalistic instincts. I wanted to have sex, and he was a willing participant. I wanted to be touched, to feel a moment’s love and comfort. So did he. We needed it and used each other to fulfill that need.
I’m lying to myself every day, convincing myself it’s not more.
I think we both know it is.
So, last night, I rolled across the mattress and wrapped my arm around him, squeezing my chest to his back, letting my healing powers drift between us. He hadn’t rolled over to face me, but he didn’t push me away, either. We’d fallen asleep like that–spooning–which was incredibly difficult for me, being the big spoon, because my face was jammed against his back, and I could barely breathe but… his scent was calming–beautiful–everything I love in one.
But now I’m sitting on the edge of my bed in a silken nightgown that drapes around my ankles, waiting for Lavender to come with my breakfast, do my hair, and dress me.
Another day… waiting? I have no idea what’s going on anymore.
The servants’ entrance opens like clockwork at 8:00 A.M..
Lavender–with her black hair neatly swept in a bun at the base of neck–arrives in a dress of pale yellow that covers her chest, arms, and back. Everyone here dresses the same. Long sleeves–thin, breezy fabrics in soft, muted colors. It’s to beat the heat of the day, I’ve come to realize. To shield our skin from the unforgiving sun of the desert that surrounds the city.
But today, she’s not alone.
A one-year-old girl with dark brown hair sticking straight up on the top of her head clutches Lavender's gown, wrinkling the fabric as Lavender balances the baby on her hip. Lavender looks flustered, her cheeks pink and eyes heavy with stress as she pushes the breakfast cart into the room with one hand, knocking it into a table.
I jump out of bed and hurry to help her, my eyes holding on the baby who stares at me with wide, dark blue eyes.
“I can do it,” I assure Lavender with a tight smile.
Lavender sighs as the baby continues to clutch her dress, whining a bit. Lavender, who hasn’t spoken to me at all over the past week, says softly, “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ve had a bit of a morning.”
I glance between her and the baby, who has tears dried on her cheeks. “I can see that.”
“She’s teething.” Lavender breathes, following behind me as I steer the cart toward the little bistro table near the windows overlooking the courtyard. Coffee scents the air–thank the Goddess. I’ve been dying for a cup more than usual this morning.
I set out my plate and mug then start opening the platters of eggs and fruit–the usual assortment. The baby jumps in Lavender’s arm, pointing a chubby finger toward a bowl of strawberries.
“You’ve already had your breakfast. And a snack… and second breakfast,” Lavender grumbles, trying to set the baby down on the floor. “I need to lay out a dress for the princess now, pet.”
The baby squawks, her face going red with sudden fury.
“I’ll hold her,” I say with a smile.
Lavender stares at me. “Oh, no. Princess. It’s all right. Eat and I’ll–figure something out–”
The baby starts to scream with rage as Lavender turns with her in her arms.
“Actually, I insist. She can share my strawberries.”
Lavender turns back around, looking conflicted.
“I won’t hurt her,” I try to say, my voice wobbling. “If that’s what you’re worried about. I have so many nephews… and second cousins… the works.”
“Oh, Your Highness, that’s not what I was worried about.” Lavender smiles softly, her dark eyes creasing as she looks down at the baby. She sighs with resignation and thrusts the baby into my waiting arms. The girl leans away from me at first, but I sit down, settling her into my lap and pulling the bowl of strawberries in front of her.
She instantly snatches a handful of chopped strawberries and stuffs them in her mouth, sighing around the bite. “Oh, honey, you don’t have enough teeth for all that,” I laugh. She looks up at me, her cheeks round and full of fruit, and gives me a watery smile.
Lavender returns from the closet with a few dresses for me to choose from, smiling wistfully at the scene playing out in front of her.
“Strawberries are her favorite,” she smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “They were her mother’s favorite, too. She ate them all through her pregnancy. We could barely keep up with demand.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears–tears she’s refusing to cry.
“Who’s her mother?” I ask, and to my dismay, a flicker of jealousy ripples through my chest. This isn’t… Cole’s baby, is it?
“Elsbeth… Lady Elsbeth, of course. She’s, uhm… she’s dead.”
Lavender turns around before I can see the expression of utter dismay playing across the dainty features.
I remember the dream I shared with Cole–the nightmare of his friends getting killed. The faint cry of an infant somewhere in the background that I’d noticed when the dead woman came into view.
“She’s Adrian’s daughter, isn’t she?”
“Uhm, yes. Marcella is her name. We call her Marrie for short.”
“Marrie,” I smile, trying to stop my eyes from watering. Marrie reaches for the eggs. I pull the plate forward, having lost my appetite at the memory of the dream of her dead parents.
Lavender looks pained as she watches us, sitting down in a chair nearby but giving me, and Marrie, space. I get a few bites of eggs before Marrie finishes them off, and there’s no hope for the strawberries. They’re gone, and now the baby is reaching for my coffee.
“Oh, you don’t want that,” I giggle, and she grins up at me, showing me only two teeth.
She’s perfect. A beautiful reminder of a future I’m not sure she’s going to have. That kills me.
I turn my teary eyes to Lavender, noticing the same look of resignation in her gaze.
Marrie lets out a big yawn as I continue to pick at my breakfast in silence, sipping my coffee, which honestly starts to turn my stomach in a way it never has. Lavender goes about her duties–laying out hair pins and brushes, tidying up the room, and eventually I feel Marrie slump in my arms, her cheek pressed to my chest.
I rise like I’m holding a live bomb and gently dab strawberry juice from her face with a napkin before laying her in the center of my bed and arranging a barrier of pillows around her so she can’t roll off.
“You do have experience with little ones, don’t you?” Lavender asks as we stand near the bed and watch Marrie sleep for a moment.
“I have two nephews,” I tell her. “And three second cousins… and I think I might have a niece on the way.” I sigh heavily, my heart lurching. Will I ever see them again?
Lavender wordlessly leads me to the vanity next to the far wall. I sit in silence while she brushes my hair, occasionally looking over our shoulders at the bed to make sure Marrie isn’t awake and trying to escape.
“So, what’s on my agenda today?” I ask wryly.
“Uhm… lunch and dinner. Here.”
“Of course,” I murmur, exhaling deeply. “Is Cole busy today?”
“Yes, very.” Her sigh of frustration is evident as it weaves through the words.
“Could you send him a message for me?”
Lavender raises her brows but doesn’t stop braiding my hair. “Of course, I can try.”
“Tell him I’ll start speaking in tongues and ripping wallpaper from the walls if he doesn’t find some way to keep me entertained… preferably his own company?”
She tries to hide her smile. “I will. I’m sorry he’s keeping you here, locked up like this. I hope he told you why.”
“The castle isn’t safe?”
“We have a large court,” she says quietly. “Unfortunately, we have no idea who we can trust anymore.”
“Who do you trust?” I ask, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
She thinks about it for a long time. “Cole,” she says, forgoing formalities. “Cole, and Orion, and his family. They’re so far… mostly untouched by the curse, those that are still alive.” She swallows hard against the memory of Adrian and his mate, Elsbeth. “Elsie–Elsbeth was my daughter, so Marcella is–she’s my granddaughter. She’s with me more often than not these days, as Orion is quite busy. His mate is ill.”
Ill. The word worms through my body. “She’s cursed, right?”
Lavender’s jaw tightens. “Yes, she is.”
I turn around to face her, “I can fix that–at least, make it more comfortable for her. I was able to help Cole, and I still do. I’d have to keep doing it, but if she’s in pain—please let me help?”
Lavender holds my gaze for a long time. “I’ll ask,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “I will ask, and I’ll let you know. Uhm… it’s very bad, Your Highness, I should warn you–she’s in the later stages–”
“Misty is fine,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. “And I don’t care. Just let me help.”
She nods, a single tear rolling free before she wipes it away and sniffles back a sob. “Oh, I meant to ask days ago, but when are you expecting your courses? So I can have supplies prepared?”
“Courses?”
“Your–your moon cycle,” she says under her breath.
“Oh, that.” I turn back to the mirror, whizzing through some internal math. Cole did make good on his promise to give me a calendar and a clock. My birthday is in a week. Winter Solstice is the week after that, and my moon cycle…
“Oh, it’s a week late, at least,” I grumble, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“Oh,” Lavender echoes, clearing her throat. “It’s the stress, I’m sure.”
“Yeah,” I grind out, still staring at my reflection. There’s no way I’m pregnant, right? My cycles are always on time, without fail. Of course, I know how babies come to be, but… it’s only happened twice, and I’m not certain Cole finished… inside of me, seeing as I’m his fake breeder, and he’s not actually trying to get me pregnant.
I grip the edge of the vanity. Lavender must notice my sudden stillness because she lays a timid hand on my shoulder and says, “It’s far too soon to tell.”
I whip around. “Don’t tell Cole. It would kill him.”
She nods but looks pale. “It’s just stress. That’s why it’s late.”
I want my mom. Holy fuck, I need my mom right now. “Yes. Stress.”
“Stress,” she echoes, but neither of us look convinced.
“He didn’t want to do this to me.”
“I know,” she rushes out, looking pained.
“We had to–” my voice cracks painfully.
“I’ve been told,” she whispers, “about how he managed to get you out from under the order. Your parents have been informed of your whereabouts, Princess.”
“Just Misty, please.” I’m on the cusp of breaking, for real this time.
“Misty,” she swallows, nodding. “Cole is going to get you out of this. He’s working on it.”
I don’t tell her I can’t leave until this is finished. Until I know he’s going to be okay, and the curse is broken. I won’t leave until then.
Marrie huffs from the bed and sits up with a confused sigh. “Baba–baba baba baba–”
Lavender hurries to her, scooping her up and patting her back. “That was barely a nap, my darling girl. Go back to sleep.”
Lavender gives me a slight nod in goodbye, and begins to walk away, but stops. “Would you like to take a walk with us?”
“Am I allowed?”
“I wouldn’t want you ripping the wallpaper,” she says with a smile.