9 False Windows and Rushed Breakfasts (1/2)

The sun greeted Isilla, shining brightly through window and across her bed, , the curtain left open from the night before. The lamps she had left burning looked dim and off color in the light of the sun. She climbed out of bed slowly and touched each one, the lights flickering out at her command.

She used the toilet and then looked at herself in the mirror. Even after her night's sleep she felt tired and drained. It's all the changes, she thought touching her cheek. She shivered, the cold from the floor seeping through her feet and through the thick robe. I've never done so much work in the Veil, she thought. Just the two dreams had been a great deal to shift, the nightmares were far more powerful here than they ever were in her home.

Alone she climbed back into bed. Feeling more settled from her time in the Veil she let herself think of the night before.

”Arren was, strange,” she said to herself. He was pleasant in the garden and then when he was alone with me at first but then after we kissed, he became so cold, she thought. And before, when he saved me from his brother, he was cold then, too. Was it because I was afraid? Isn't it natural to be afraid?

I wanted to ask him about the letters. He read them, that was clear from his comments, but would he even tell me who wrote them, she thought, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. Maybe if I hadn't been so frightened of him but then, I have never seen anything like that.

The memory of it came to her. The touch of the shadows as they reached for her, like the touch of the softest fabric but so much and so dark. Then there were his eyes. She pressed her palms to her temples and shook the image away, it was too much, as if there was something else living behind his eyes.

Her stomach growled but she didn't know where to go or what to do. By the sun, she thought it was likely late morning but there was no proof.

She left the bed, crossed the room to her door and opening it entered her sitting room. The small couch sat across from a book case that held vases and small figurines. The window here showed a dull gray morning. So the castle doesn't show everything the same, she noted as she passed through the space and out to the final door to the small collection of her apartments.

There hadn't been time to take in the space when she arrived. She drew the robe closer to herself as she looked. In front of her stood another door, the way out to the main castle. To her right, a hallway that likely led to the maids' quarters.

What should I do, she wondered.

Laughter came from the maids' quarters and she turned to it. The three women made their way from a room and were walking towards her, chatting between themselves.

”You two are in a good mood today,” the shorter of the three said.

The thinnest one chuckled, ”I had a really good night's sleep.”

The oldest women nodded in agreement, ”Me too.”

They stopped as they came upon Isilla. She smiled brightly at them, hoping they would be kinder to her in the daylight.

”What are you doing out here?” the short one asked.

Isilla rubbed her belly, assuming that everyone would understand such simple motions.

”Oh, she hungry,” the thin one chuckled.

”A little late in the morning, isn't it?” the short one asked.

”Leave her be,” the oldest said waving the other two off. ”Greta, get her breakfast. Sele and I will see to dressing her.”

Isilla smiled nervously as the woman ushered her back into her rooms.

The oldest one sat her on the stool and hurriedly began on her hair. She grunted at the knots and tangles created by the night but picked at them gently, the gruffness from the night before gone, even if her complaints remained.

She didn't bother with the fancy braids of the night before. Instead she formed a sort of crown from Isilla's own hair, one braid that circled her skull and left the rest out and free. She pushed pins topped with ivory shaped like flowers into the braid for some decoration. Finished she stepped back, shaking her head. ”We'll leave the makeup off this morning. But at least if he comes your hair is presentable.”

”Do you think he'll for her again today, Hanna?” Sele asked from the closet, a maroon dress in her hands.

”Who knows?” Hanna responded.

Greta bustled into the door with a tray and quickly placed it on the table. ”A messenger was waiting at the door! She's been asked for.”

”When?” Sele asked a look of worry crossing her face.