The Sound of Hope

Caged Freedom

There was a fire raging throughout her body. She was trapped within this suffocating heat. Tossing and turning, there was no escape from the damning flames. The fever has taken complete control. All of her defenses had been obliterated. Mumbling incoherently, Makas quickly lost all awareness of her surroundings.

A strange sensation of being lifted gave her a brief respite. She vaguely noticed voices drifting around her. The heat surged again, reclaiming her conscious. She bucked and writhed as her traitorous body began to turn on itself.

The onset of pain almost overwhelmed the fever. It was equally merciless a mate as its partner. The sheer force threatened to tear her being to shreds. Reduced to whimpers, she feebly begged the boid to claim her. Her wish fell on deaf ears and she continued to waver between the veil of the living and the dead. Finally a cool wave washed over her body, dulling the pain. Thinking her part in the battle was over, Makas fell into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke, a draft gently brushed against her face. A fresh scent wafted from her pillow after she moved her head. She weakly lifted a hand and held it above her face. Her chin no longer held the many layers of dirt and grime she was accustomed to. Her skin color seemed strange to her. It was toned and smooth, as if it belonged to a stranger. Breathing quietly, she noticed the sound of water gently cascading down.

“So you're finally awake.”

The unexpected sound startled her and she momentarily lost her balance. Before she could topple off of the bed, a steady hand caught her. She blinked, watching the owner come into focus.

He was a boy, but his demeanor was that of an adult. He wore a half-smile that reminded her of the young lords at the market. The ones that smiled that sweetly at the pretty shopkeepers and laughed harshly at the plain ones. She flinched away from him and stumbled back onto the bed. Her snarl turned into a meow as she sunk into the soft cushions.

His laugh surprised her, a slight puff of breath. He moved to sit beside the window and raised his open hands.

“Don't worry Enya, I'm not going to hurt you.” He tilted his head and regarded inquisitively. “You can stop bristling now.” His voice was quiet, like water trickling over stones.

She continued to stare at him. It was her first time seeing someone so clean. His hair looked smooth and silky. His clothes were made from the same material as the young boy from the market.

The young boy from the market, her memory rushed back as phantom pain seared across her chest. She clutched at the bandages. The binds were constricting, crushing her breath. Her nail feebly scratched at the threads.

“Calm down. Please, calm down.” Large hands pried her hands away. “You’ll reopen your wounds like that.” He pressed his palms against the bandages, checking to see if they were still in place. Makas felt herself relax against the cool touch. She had forgotten what it was like to have another human care for her.

The stranger furrowed his brow in concern. His face slightly below hers about two hand widths apart.

“Have you calmed yourself now?”

She noticed the smirk he wore had disappeared. Squirming, she avoided eye contact Despite the lazy atmosphere around him, this stranger’s eyes were sharp. Wariness pricked at her conscious. This was not a place to lower her guard. Though her glare served to do no more but increase his mirth.

“Oh good, you didn't harm yourself. I'd be in a lot of trouble if you had.” He tapped her forehead with a chuckle. Pausing, he swiftly stood up and returned to the windowsill. “It's a shame you wouldn't talk to me but there's no rush. I'll be seeing you again, Enya.”

Makas reached out to grab him but he had leaped. Stunned, she leaned outside but was only greeted with the lush garden below. The breeze lifted stray strands of hair away from her face. She closed her eyes and savored the fresh scent. It was completely different from dusty markets or sweat-filled slave pits. Bracing her arms against the ledge, she tried to lift herself up. She grunted as her arms buckled under her weight. Her body wouldn't be able to support acrobatic stunts and keep her conscious.

Stretching her arms as far out the window as she could, she felt the wind brush past her fingertips. She hadn't noticed before but the air was cool. Below her, she saw a sprawling garden of flowering vines and shrubs. Early morning sun peeked through a row of trees further down. Small shadows flitted underneath various plants. The sounds of leaves rustling, bird calls, and waterfalls intermingled, lulling her into a calm state. She sank onto the floor and tilted her head back.

Her eyes snapped back open as the wooden door scraped across the stone floor. Half-expecting the arrogant stranger again, she tensed. Armed with one of the pillows, she swing it as hard as she could. The pitiful weapon was simply snatched away, torn in the process. She rolled away and glanced up at an irritated matron.

The woman scowled and grabbed Makas by the arm, hauling her onto the bed. Makas's attempts to free herself only served to bring her a smack to the head. Eyes watering, she rubbed her forehead and watched the older woman.

There seemed to be a permanent crease in the middle of the matron’s forehead. Her hair was tied back in a firm bun. Although she carried herself with purpose, Makas didn't like how the woman looked at her. Her gaze shifted over Makas, never truly acknowledging her. She had the same eyes as those who turned their nose up at the markets. Makas bet that she probably didn't approve of the slave trade but thought that the dirt underneath her feet were worth more than a slave.

She lifted Makas's shirt, changing the bandages quickly and efficiently. After placing food and a pitcher of water by the bedside, she placed the back of her hand to Makas's forehead. She clicked her tongue in satisfaction and turned to leave.

Makas stammered as she tried to keep the woman from leaving. “W-wait, who are you? And d-do you kn-now why I’m h-h-here?”

The woman didn’t respond, only removed the torn pillow. She closed the door firmly behind her. Makas scowled and pursed her lips at the barred door. However, her irritation was cut short by growling complaints of hunger. She snatched up a small bun and a tangy orange fruite. Biting into the bun, she worked at peeling away the fruit.

She quickly devoured it and licked off her fingers. It melted away and was sweeter that she expected. This was a far-cry from the brick bread she would swipe from the trader's table. Settling herself onto the floor, she dug into the feast in front of her. Makas didn't know what was going to happen, but whatever it was, she was going to face it on a full stomach. After all, she'd probably never get another chance to stuff herself again.

The door swung open again, as she finished the last scraps. Before she could react, a young boy knocked her over. He was chattering away at top speed.

“Oh good, you're awake. I was scared you wouldn't get up, but I wasn't scared of you. I just wanted to see you but Cordon told me I couldn't. He said you’re too dangerous, but I don’t think you're scary and the spirits proved me right.”

Makas breathed in and held up a hand, trying to process the first sentence. The young boy paused. A confused look crossed his face. Suddenly he buried his face next to her chest.

“Oh, your heart's beating really fast. Are you scared?” He looked up at her, his eyes widening. “Don't be scared. I'm not scary, not like my brothers. They can be terrifying.” He scowled with a grumble. “Did they get to see you? They better not have because I wanted to talk to you first.” He caught himself pouting and grinned toothily.

In his excitement he had grabbed her hands. Her palms doubled his in size. He had to be at least a foot shorter than her. Makas squinted at him. His looks and eager demeanor was familiar.

“That’s enough, Your Highness.” A chilled voice crossed the room as a gruff man pried the young boy away from her. “I told you to wait for me.”

The boy whined and crossed his arms, sulking. “But I wanted to be the first one to see her.” He pouted and turned away. His shoulders slumped a little as he toed the floor.

Cordon sighed and gripped the boy’s shoulder. “You can ask her everything you want, after your father has talked to her.” His gaze fell back on Makas, sprawled on the floor. “She requires judgement first.”

Makas flinched and scrambled to her feet. Automatically lowering her gaze, her hands went to the collar at her neck. The dirt scrubbed away and the leather softened, but it was still there. It encircled her neck, marking her. Even in paradise, she was allowed to forget the fate forced upon her. A small hand squeezed hers and she looked up. The prince had a worried look on his face.

“It’ll be alright. I’ll even hold you hand while we walk if you want. My father can be tough but he’s good.” He grinned reassuringly and pulled her through the door. Waving off both Cordon’s and Makas’s protests, he headed down the corridor.

“Th-thank you, Your H-highness.” Makas finally managed to find her voice. “You’re t-too kind,”

The prince frowned and stopped. Cordon tried to move around him but he had planted himself in front of Makas. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at Makas. “You’re a guest. Guests are not allowed to call Your Highness. My name is Iri. You have to call me Iri.”

Cordon cleared his throat. “Your Highness, this child is not a guest of the palace. It is inappropriate for you to make such a request.” Cordon stepped closer to Makas, forcing her to move away from the prince.

She stiffened as she quickly returned her attention to the floor. The young prince easily made her forget. Even with new clothes and new skin, she was still inferior. Makas bowed her head and stepped back, allowing Cordon in between her and the prince.

Prince Iri pursed her lips and turned back to the door. “Well, Father will decide and I think he’ll like her.” He pushed the door open and stood by Cordon. Makas shuffled past them cautiously. She glanced over at the young prince, who offered her a smile. Somehow this small reassurance made her straighten up. A quick intake of breath, she stepped inside.