A New Realm of Truth
1311 Words
I followed Lacy through the echoing halls of the castle, an enchanting landscape filled with opulent decor and the whispers of history. Ryker's fingers brushed against my hand with tender caresses, each touch igniting a curious warmth in my chest. In that moment, despite the tenebrous shadows of a stranger's intentions, I felt no fear. Yet as we reached the door to my bedroom, a twinge of anxiety gripped me at the thought of him leaving. What a strange feeling, I mused, this blend of comfort and unease.
Lacy paused at the door, her gaze demurely downcast, fully aware of our need for privacy. I turned slightly, facing Ryker, whose presence loomed over me like a protective shadow.
“Well, this is me," I exhaled, my sigh betraying a reluctance to part ways. So many unspoken thoughts danced between us, and I was acutely aware that this world did not permit sleepovers between young ladies and gentlemen.
“I'll collect you for breakfast," he replied, a playful smile teasing the corners of his lips. “I need to find your father and settle the details tonight.”
I nodded, every syllable reinforcing the reality of his impending departure. “Thank you—for the walk, and the company.” My voice faltered, my heart desperately wishing to stretch our time together.
“Don’t worry, little princess. Soon you will be my queen, and my company will become unending.” He chuckled, his expression full of promise as if he could read my thoughts perfectly.
His warm hand took mine, and he pressed a gentle kiss to my palm, sending delightful shivers racing up my arm. “Good night,” I murmured, retreating towards the door. What was it about him that made my heart race as if filled with irresistible excitement? I don't even know him.
Lacy followed me inside, shutting the door with a quiet click.
“Miss,” she called, her voice timid, “Did you want me to fetch the other girls to help get you ready for bed?”
“No, that seems unnecessary. If you could just pop the buttons, I can manage getting into my pajamas,” I replied, her worried frown a gentle reminder of her concern and seeming awareness of me.
“My lady,” Lacy noted carefully, “are you well?”
“I feel fine,” I said, my confusion lacing my words.
“If I may,” she spoke slowly, studying my expression. Her brow pinched with concern.
I gestured for her to continue. She hesitated, glancing at me as if weighing her words carefully.
“Well, Miss, Princess, it’s just that you haven’t seemed yourself since yesterday,” she stated, her tone laced with anxiety.
Biting my lip, I pondered whether revealing my agonizing truth to this sweet, timid girl would frighten her away. After considering a careful approach, I asked, “Lacy, how long have you been in my service?”
“Nine years, Miss, since I was ten,” she replied, her head c****d to the side as she observed me.
“In that time, I’m sure you’ve gotten to know Aloura—me, I mean,” I stammered, “and how would you have described me over the years?”
The horror that flickered across Lacy’s face told me she was not ready to divulge her honest assessment.
“It’s okay, Lacy. You’ve shown your insightful. Trust your instinct,” I nearly pleaded, a glimmer of desperation in my voice. “I won’t be mad, and you won’t be in trouble, I swear.”
Wringing her hands together, she looked up at me. “Well, I have never seen you use manners, and I’ve never seen you trip on a gown, or venture to the study aside from your meetings with your father. You haven’t eaten breakfast in six years. And,” she trailed off, wariness etched in her features.
“Please, go on,” I implored.
“Well, I’ve never witnessed you keen on a man before. Your usual preference has been for female company,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing as she quickly added, “though I would never tell a soul. And I have never—”
A wave of realization washed over me. Aloura was not simply reserved; she was something else entirely, and that something i was sure wasnt looked on favorably in this world.“Tell me, Lacy, did Aloura have any scars on her body?” I questioned, the memory of the scar on my knee from childhood lingering in my mind.
Scrunching her brow in thought, she replied, “No, Miss. You have never had more than a minor cut. Your body is pristine—just as a princess's should be.”
“Perfect,” I thought, seizing the opportunity to unveil my truth. “I was injured once, when I was eight,” I announced, tugging my skirt up to reveal the faint scar on my knee, a memory of reckless childhood curiosity.
Lacy gasped, her eyes widening. “But, Miss, that’s not possible!”
“Lacy,” I began, feeling precariously close to the edge of sanity. “I need you to hear me out. I’m about to sound crazy. I sound crazy to myself just thinking about it. But i went to sleep last night in a world that is not this one. where both my parents have passed on, where people don't call me Aloura, they call me Laura. We don't wear veils and we don't just get married off to strangers. I don't know if I'm dead, or in a dear at this point.”
Lacy stood still, absorbing my words. I felt the pulse of my heart echoing in my ears, hoping with every fiber of my being that she would believe me.
“Miss, if you wouldn't mind… may I bring my mother to you? She’s just down in the kitchens,” Lacy requested.
The dread settled heavily in my stomach; now she thought I was mad. “Lacy, I promise I’m not crazy,” I pleaded.
She tilted her head. “Princess, I don’t think you are crazy. But my mother, she used to be your mother’s maid. She came from the same court and was there when you were born. When I was first told I would be your maid, it was because of this history.”
Hope flickered within me like a fragile flame. “Alright,” I acquiesced.
Lacy hurriedly left my room, and in that stillness, I felt strangely unburdened. My confession to her had freed something within me.
Moments later, a soft knock sounded at the door. “Miss,” Lacy's timid voice called, and I responded, “Come in.”
Lacy entered, accompanied by a beautiful older woman whose copper hair bore streaks of gray, radiating a warm smile that felt like home. She mirrored Lacy’s features, an unspoken bond evident in their relation. With a gracious air, she carried a tray with a teapot and set it on the table.
“Tea, dear?" she asked, her melodic voice bringing an unexpected sense of comfort.
“Uh, yes, please,” I replied, grateful for her kindness, especially as it eased my nerves.
“Sit, I will prepare it,” she encouraged, shooing me toward the chair as she busily set out cups and poured.
As I sipped the soothing tea, a weight seemed to lift.
“Well,” she remarked after examining me closely, “You are definitely not the child who’s grown up here, but you are the one who was born here.”
Her words shimmered in the air, crystalline and profound, encapsulating everything I had yet to understand about my existence in this new realm. Maybe I would find an answer, or at least something to help me begin to understand.
- Writer
