Lorren

Three

She could feel the warmth spread through her body as she seemingly floated in the air, the cold bite of the stone table no longer beneath her.

This must be death she thought to herself, a smile playing around her lips, feeling at peace for the first time since she had been captured. No... Since she could remember.

“Ledia?” she heard a deeply melodic voice call out, interrupting her inner monologue, “Ledia, my love, please open your eyes. Let me see you are there. Please…”

Was he talking to her? Calling and pleading for her to wake up? But isn't she dead? She had to be, for there was no pain, no stinging cold, no stench of blood and bile filling her nostrils. Curiosity gently gnawed on her consciousness till she slowly opened her eyes.

She allowed her eyes adjust to the dim light in the large room as she focused inwardly on herself, taking stock of her injuries – or lack

thereof. She drew in a surprised gasp of air as she wiggled her now-healed fingers and toes, noticing also that her ribs no longer hurt, pain no longer radiated throughout her body.

“Ledia,” the voice breathed in relief before a gentle hand cupped her chin, drawing her eyes to his. She noted that his eyes were a dark cobalt blue, tilted up slightly at the outer corners in an exotic way, framed by thick black lashes. This man looked so familiar, yet was a stranger to her. Her heart slammed into her chest, creating a sharp pain and causing her to inhale sharply, loudly, fear clawing at her insides, cutting off her air. She struggled to sit up and move away, but her body felt heavier than lead. Her hands scrambled around her in the blankets, looking for anything she should use as a weapon.

The man’s eyes widened in panic, his hands smoothing over her shoulders, “Ledia, do not fear, love. You are safe, away from the beasts that call themselves men. They cannot hurt you, dearest.” He helped her sit up, pulling the blanket up over her bare breasts to allow her a sense of modesty.

She could feel a cloudiness hovering over her mind as confusion swamped her.

“Who are you?” she asked quietly, her voice hoarse and cracking.

“You do not know who I am?” the man asked, pure shock and panic radiating from his eyes.

“I’m afraid that I do not, sir. And why do you keep calling me Ledia? Who are you? ” she asked tentatively, afraid to upset the beautiful yet powerful man in front of her.

The man sighed, a look of defeat settling upon his features. He studied her closely as she sat there unblinking, her features giving nothing of her away, not her thoughts or her current emotions. He found himself wanting to cradle her against him again, as he had while she had been healing the past few months.

“My given name is Etan Atreo Lowell. I call you Ledia because I have always known you by that name. Ledia Cyrena Lyall. Do you not remember me at all? We lived in the neighboring cities of Celesthem and Kyndale, our mothers are friends, and our fathers are fellow politicians. Ledia, you must remember, you must,” he insisted, his eyes shining bright with hope.

“I am sorry, Etan, but I do not know my parents. My name is not Ledia. I am sure you have mistaken me. My name is Lorren of Silverthal. Just Lorren is fine though,” she said, the cloudiness in her head now pushing down on her mind. The pressure building in her head caused her to look away from the eyes that were currently studying her mercilessly.

“Ledia, how can you not remember? We last saw each other but a few months ago. We were arranged to be wed… but… you disappeared the day before the wedding. Abducted. No one could find you anywhere. Our families were distraught. Where have you been?”

Lorren looked around her, her eyes keen and unblinking as she took in her surroundings. The bed she was in was made of a light wood with vibrant vines growing up the posts, to create a dense canopy and curtains, which were held back with small ties. The mattress was plush and warm, covered in heavy yet un-stifling blankets, lush pillows at her back. The walls of the room were of a continuous warm-white wood, as were the floors, which were covered with plush pelts of fur that were a deep cream color. The ceilings vaulted up so high, she thought she might see stars and clouds above her. The opened windows were covered with bolts of gauzy white fabric that billowed out when the breeze came through. Warmth and a glowing light radiated from a large fire-bowl in the center of the room, casting soothing shadows across the floor and walls.

“Where are we, Etan?” she finally asked, disregarding his earlier question, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“We are at my family’s summer home in Ferrovale, where we first fell in love. How is it that you cannot remember?” Etan asked, genuine surprise in his voice as he looked down at his lap in defeat, “Am I that easily forgotten?”

There was music drifting in from the window, a duet that made Lorren stand up, regardless of her nudity, and move to the window to look out into the night.

“What sort of birds are they, that they sing such a sweet song so late at night?” Lorren asked, looking back at Etan, her hands braced on the sill of the window, her white-blonde hair swirling about her shoulders and waist in the breeze, her silver eyes wide with wonder.

Etan glanced up from his lap, looking at the image that Ledia... Lorren made. “It’s not a bird. It’s a flute and a harp. You really aren’t Ledia, then? If you were, you’d know that… Ledia loved the harp. It’s strange, you look exactly like her. You even sound like her… and yet, something is very different about you.”

Lorren considered his observation as she continued to stare out the window. “What is it about me that sets me apart from this Ledia you speak of?” she asked, finally turning her attention back to Etan.