“Arrogant cad,” I muttered when the door slammed closed, then I gave him my pinky finger even though he couldn’t appreciate the rude gesture.
Grumbling, I paced the room a few times, then tried to take a page from my brother’s book and look at the bright side. At least, the prince would be gone. Knowing I wouldn’t have to see him caused some of my stress to lighten. And perhaps with any luck, I would be able to find someone to help me escape without the prince’s ever-watchful eye, but when Daiseeum arrived an hour later, stunned to find me already dressed, that hope quickly faded.
Days passed after the prince’s departure, and the only servants I saw were Balbus, Daiseeum, Patrice, and Haisley. Each time one of them entered my room, I would scramble to their sides and ask if I could leave, but each and every one of them made it abundantly clear they were loyal to the prince, and his wishes were for me to stay in my chambers.
As days turned into weeks, my hope turned into fear, especially when time ticked by, and there was no sign of the prince returning to explain what my future held.
Even writing to Cailis didn’t lighten my mood since I was pretty sure from her worried replies that the censor practically erased all of my ramblings. But at least she knew I was alive. That counted for something.
But even though Cailis knew I lived, I began to sink into despair despite the servants doing their best to buoy my spirits. Balbus and Daiseeum were the most constant fixtures in my otherwise gilded cage. Balbus checked on me every morning, sometimes supplying me with books from the prince’s library, other times regaling me with stories of his time spent on the Cliffs of Sarum—the deadly cliffs on the tip of Isalee Territory that only the locals with skilled knowledge knew how to navigate. His perpetual cheer and constant smiles helped alleviate the unfailing anxiety that coated my insides day in and day out, but they didn’t quell it completely.
Daiseeum did her best to distract me too. The clothes the tailor had created for me came hours after the prince’s departure. Dresses in the finest silks, tops of the thickest cottonum, and pants of varying richness and warmth were only a few of the items in the vast wardrobe. I’d been speechless when Daiseeum had carefully stowed everything away. It was so much. Too much. But she insisted on dressing me up some days to provide me with something to do, and while I’d never been into fashion, her love of it did make me smile. But seeing how much clothing had been crafted for me and my wingless back inevitably made my anxiety return.
Just how long did the prince intend to keep me here?
My imprisonment would have undoubtedly driven me to insanity if not for the courtyard and neglected garden. I spent nearly every moment of the day in its frigid temperatures. At first, I’d simply cleared the snow from the wilted plants, spoken with them, and empathized with their plight. I’d thought for certain that the courtyard was devoid of orem, but on day three of my imprisonment, I felt a stirring of it, just a touch when I knelt beneath the large maple tree to clear its base entirely of snow.
The giddiness that discovery had instilled in me lasted the entire day. And then the next day, I felt a touch more of it near the boxwood shrub as I fingered a brittle leaf tenderly. By that afternoon, that brittle leaf had transformed into a shiny one covered in wax. Its succulent pink tone was the first shade of color to pop up in the neglected garden.
I poured my heart and soul into nurturing the garden back to health once I realized that orem did exist in it. And slowly, the courtyard’s garden came alive, growing more and more each day. By the end of week two, the snow had entirely melted, and the temperature was no longer freezing. The soil grew looser, the rich dirt moister and suppler between my fingers. And by the end of week three, all of the plants were alive, some even thriving. The rich colors and decadent fragrances that each plant harbored bathed the small courtyard in a perfumed cloud of life and peace.
“This is so beautiful,” Daiseeum proclaimed as an entire month of my captivity was upon me. “If only Lord Crimsonale and Lady Wormiful could see this, then maybe they’d stop their ridiculous talks.”
“Who?” I asked, cocking my head as I tilled the soil. “And talks about what?”
A flush worked up the servant’s neck. “Nothing, Ilara. Carry on.”
But despite my world shrinking to the Exorbiant Chamber and courtyard, I still heard rumblings among the servants, when they didn’t know I was listening, about life beyond my confining walls. More commoners had flooded the capital since the prince had left, bringing with them increasing worry over the state of our continent’s crops.
Ice had flooded my veins when Haisley and Balbus had restocked the bar, and Haisley had hissed under his breath, “He was removed, some laborer from Isalee, just like the last two.”
“By who?” Balbus had asked, keeping his voice low. “The prince isn’t here to deal with them, so who’s taking them?”
“No one knows,” Haisley replied. “But it’s best to watch your back. A serving girl in the kitchens has gone missing too. They say she was sympathetic to the commoner’s plight.”
Hearing that made the anxiety within me grow. What exactly is happening in this castle?
Throwing myself back into my garden, I concentrated on the plants, the soil, and the life growing before me. My father would have been proud. I tried to concentrate on that. Despite being a field laborer, he’d taken pride in his work, always boasting any time his crops grew tall and strong. If he were here now, he would have patted my shoulder and told me well done.
Smiling, I closed my eyes and remembered my father’s horrible yet endearing singing every time he’d shoveled snow off the path to the front door. His ballads would be so loud he would scare the nearby nesting owls away despite their daytime slumbers.
And as the soil sank through my fingers, I would think of the softness of my mother’s hugs and the scent of her lemony lotion every time she’d braided my hair. I would picture how she would bump me playfully with her elbow every time she’d beat me at a game of cards, or how we would knead dough side by side in the kitchen while she’d hummed under her breath.
I remembered my brother too, his jokes, his laughs, and how Cailis and I had always teased him mercilessly since he’d had a crush on Birnee but had never worked up the courage to ask her to be his mate.
So despite my captivity and the disturbing whispers filtering through the castle, I worked and remembered as I filled my days with thoughts of Tormesh’s infectious laugh, my mother’s gentle hands, my father’s comforting hugs, and Cailis’s sharp tongue.
Dirt encrusted itself under my nails again, and it was such a welcome return of the life I once led that I kept my hands close to my chest, refusing to clean them properly. Daiseeum was, of course, aghast, but when she tried to scrub it away or insist that I soak for hours to loosen it, I refused.
It was the only remnant of my former life that felt like mine, and I fiercely protected it.