The Bald Princess

~3~

Pain and misery never leave us, oh, mighty ruler. We are just used to the poverty that has engulfed us for years now.

Atarah

"I'm done, Warrior Duncan. Do you need something for your pain?" I asked lowly, softly, not wanting to anger the already wounded lion. He looked up at me, his canines slightly protruding out of his lips as he looked at me with his predatory gaze. There was something in his eyes that screamed danger. A danger for me. And yet something in his eyes told me, I shouldn't be scared of him. He won't hurt me. But malice never escaped his eyes.

"I need no painkiller, healer. I must leave before you and I regret my presence here." He said, his voice deeper than usual and I gulped, nodding my head, not really understanding the meaning of his words. I looked down, licking my lips, not being able to hold the gaze anymore.

"As you wish, Warrior Duncan."

He looked away, his muscles stiffened. He looked at his guards, nodding his head as they started to walk out of the infirmary. I released my breath, I didn't knew, I was holding as he walked out of the infirmary but I froze when he turned around to look at me.

"You have healed me today, healer. I shall never forget your benevolence." My eyes widened at his words. I couldn't believe these words were coming out of his mouth— of Warrior Duncan's mouth. But then the canines protruding out of his lips made the reality to hit me hard. He was dangerous, as the dangerous as the thunderbolt. He was the royal, I wasn't aloud to touch. He was the royal, who could kill me in a snap of his fingers and yet he chose to get mended by me. A bald woman.

"My actions are not an act of benevolence, great warrior. I am just doing what my profession has taught me to. If you allow me now, great warrior, I need to look at other patients, they are waiting for me." I saw his jaw clenching at my last statement. He looked reluctant when he nodded his head and walked out of my infirmary without a single word.

I let out a breath and turned around to look at Bailey, who was staring at me like she had seen a ghost. I rose my brows at her and she blinked back.

"Miss Atarah," Bailey called me, holding my left arm when I took a few steps away from her. I turned around, looking at her with a soft smile while my eyes had a questioning gaze

"What's the matter, Bailey? Are you alright?" I asked, lightly stroking the side of her face and she gulped, shaking her head.

"Do— do you know who Warrior Duncan is?" She asked in her shaky voice and a tremor passed down my body as I shrugged my shoulders, looking away from her. Why  did his name made my insides to tremble?

"We all know who Warrior Duncan is, Bailey. But I don't know him personally. None of us do. I doubt if the King even knows about his personal life. But why do you ask, Bailey? Do you know about Warrior Duncan?" I asked curiously and she blinked again, shaking her head as she licked her lips.

"Personally— no, Miss Atarah but there are things you are not aware about, Miss Atarah. Things that are only confined in the large walls of the royal mansion." Bailey said and I rose my brows at her. Things that are only confined in the large walls of the royal mansion?

"What?"

"Things that only lurk in the darkness. Secrets which are darker than the night, Miss Atarah. Danger that might follow you like your shadow from now." She said and I smiled at her words. A painful, ironic smile.

"There's nothing darker than me, Bailey. There's nothing dangerous than my own aura. There's nothing dangerous than my baldness, Bailey. Don't worry. The devil doesn't pay for his own sins." I said, pain and irony clear in my eyes. Bailey shook her head, horror clearly painted on her face as she held my palms. Her eyes had terror swirling in them.

"There's something more darker than your curse, Miss Atarah. There is danger more dangerous than your dark aura, Miss Atarah. There are creatures darker than us. Darker than you." Bailey said and my heart wrenched in pain. My baldness was a bad omen.

"What can be darker than my aura, Bailey? What can be more darker than me?"

"Warrior Ansel Duncan." I blinked at her answer. Warrior Duncan had his darker aura than me? But he was a warrior? A royal warrior? How can a person like Warrior Duncan be a bad aura? Especially when he protects the kingdom on the expense of his own life.

"What?"

"Yes, Warrior Duncan is not a human, Miss Atarah. There's a rumour that he had been alive from past hundred of years." I rose my brows at her. He has been alive for hundred of years?

"They are just rumours, Bailey. Did you not see him bleeding like a human? When I was stitching his wounds, his jaw was clenched in pain. Did that look inhumane to you?"

"No, Miss Atarah. But him being able to tolerate the amount of pain without any painkiller and anesthesia didn't made you suspicious? He has large pain tolerance, Miss Atarah. And I would say, stay alert, Miss Atarah. For he has been blood thirsty for years now."

"Blood thirsty?" I asked, confused and she nodded her head.

"Bloodlust, Miss Atarah. The most addictive and yet the most dangerous addiction. He is a blood sucking creature. He hunts his prey in the dark. He is the one, every creature fears. He's a vampire, Miss Atarah. He feeds on blood." My blood ran cold. Suddenly his protruding canines flashed in my mind. His dangerously dark, scary eyes made me gulp. He..... he was a vampire? But he didn't heal himself.

"But.... but he was bleeding. If he is a vampire, why didn't he heal himself instead of seeking medical help from us?" I asked in fear.

"That's because he is cursed, Miss Atarah. He can only heal from his soul mate's blood or touch. And that's why I'm fearing for your safety, Miss Atarah. He came here to seek your help to tend to himself. He didn't approach the royal infirmary but he approached you— a bald woman." I felt sweat running down my forehead and inside my scarf.

"Or maybe, he is just a human. Maybe they are just rumours?" I said with a nervous laughter and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Royalty has a lot of secrets buried in them. We never know which secret can harm us, Miss Atarah." Bailey said and I never doubted her words. Royals were mysterious, dangerous and terrifying. The more we tried to solve their mysteries, the more deeper we sunk in their trap. "It's better to be alert than be sorry, Miss Atarah."

~~~~~~~~

"When did you come home, my child?" Father asked me as he walked in the kitchen. His eyes soft and his tone gentle. I turned around to look at him. He had his glasses on and a book in his hand. He must be reading all day, while I was gone in the infirmary.

"An hour ago, father. I made us some porridge and cooked us a few broccoli for dinner. Why don't you wash your hands while I put our plates on the table?" I asked softly and he nodded his head as he placed the book gently on the counter before he turned the tap on and washed his hands. He kept shaking as he walked towards me and my eyes followed his actions. He was turning really old. So old that he had now started shaking.

"How was your day, daughter?" Father asked me as he took a spoonful of porridge inside his mouth and I shrugged my shoulders. My mind going back to when Warrior Duncan came in my infirmary. His protruding canines flashing in front of my eyes as Bailey's words echoed in my mind. He feeds on blood. He's a vampire.

"Same old, father. Treated a few people. And disgusted a few people." I laughed and father frowned at me. His eyes gazing at me with sadness. The void in his eyes often scarred me. They always told me how I was never enough to keep him happy. He never said anything to me but his eyes— they always narrated different tales. Tales of my inefficiency. Tales of how I was never enough for him. For anybody, for that matter.

None of us spoke for the rest of the dinner. I got up when we were done eating, collecting our bowls when father held my hand and stopped me. I looked at him in confusion and he smiled softly at me, stroking my head. I felt something inside me melting. The only person who have always loved me, no matter, what people told him.

"You look tired, my daughter. Why don't you take a hot bath while I do the dishes and then warm you some milk with honey? I am sure, it will help you with the tiredness and insomnia." I didn't knew how to thank the God enough for blessing me with such great father. My eyes brimmed with tears of gratefulness as I wrapped my arms around him and hugging him tenderly. I heard him chuckling as he too embraced me back. No hesitation, no fear as he hugged me. No fear of getting affected by my bad omen.

"How will I ever repay to you, father? How will I ever repay you for your immense love and support?" I asked shakily and he gently rubbed by back.

"By loving yourself, daughter. You are no bad omen. Your aura is as pure as the rest of us. Get rid of that scarf, my child; get some mirrors in your room. Look at yourself, that's what will give me immense happiness." I shivered in fear. Get rid of my scarf? Get mirrors in my room?

"That would make me vulnerable, father. My scarf protects me. It helps me to curtain the truth that I have no hair." He looked at me with a sad smile as he gently cupped my face.

"Freshen up, my child. I'll see you in an hour. Make sure you turn the heater on." He yelled the last of his statements as I walked up in my room.

It was cold out there. And I loved it when the weather chilled my bones. It makes me numb. As a child, I would often put my hands on the ice cubes to numb my fingers. When the coldness pierced my skin, it soothed me. I was self destructive. I still am. But father doesn't know about that.

I locked my room from inside before I stripped out of my clothes, letting the cold air to slap my body. The corset felt heavy on my bosom. I unwrapped the scarf from my scalp before I walked deeper in my dark bathroom. I washed my body with cold water. It made me shiver. My teeth clattered in cold.  It felt good to inflict pain sometimes. It made me feel alive. It made me feel things when I felt numb. I rubbed some flower on my skin, letting the fragrance of them to cover my natural scent.

I walked out of my bathroom, wearing a simple cotton dress and wrapped a shawl around my body. Father was waiting for me outside my room with a glass of milk in the tray and a few biscuits. I almost laughed at how he was still reading his book, to probably kill the time. I didn't miss how he turned the heater on when he walked inside my room.

"Do you want me to read you something?" I asked as I sat beside him.

As soon as he heard me speaking, his eyes left the book to meet mine and his lips stretched in a soft smile. He pushed his book towards me and pointed to page number four hundred and eighty seven.

"Read the second paragraph."

"Joyce felt the pain, not because the world had given up on him, but because he himself had given up on him. The pain of not being enough never left his heart and slowly he stopped hearing the faint whispers from his soul. He didn't knew what was more painful, not being enough or his soul dying before his body." I read, my heart beating loudly in my chest.

"Only if Joyce would've heard of his soul, my child, he wouldn't have died before his actual death." Father said softly, looking at me intensely and I knew, he wasn't talking about the character 'Joyce' anymore.