The Kingdom of Secrets and Ruin

Dalliah

The grounds look more or less empty by the time I chance to look out of my window and wonder if I can take my walk yet or if it’s best to wait a bit longer.

There has never been a rule per se as to when I can take my air, but it goes without saying that I am not to draw attention to myself or I risk having the privilege revoked by my father.

I’ve waited for what seems like hours for my mother to turn up and to share her glamourous gown meant to symbolise the love she’s shared in her marriage over the years. But the door hasn’t opened and all I can hear is the hissing of the candle next to me as the fat pools at the bottom, threatening to put the flame out.

Do I wait any longer or do I finally allow myself the escape that I’ve been craving all day?

Not quite ready to make the decision yet, I pull the veil over my face slowly so as to give her time to walk through the door but she doesn’t, and I take a deep breath of disappointment before gingerly placing my fingertips on the iron handle of the door.

It seems almost like a crime to touch it at times, knowing that I’m meant to stay here as much as possible but when I finally break through the wall of trepidation, a thrill takes over.

Maybe this time I can pretend that this will be the last journey out, that I’ll never return and that this is me being freed?

I know it’s childish for a 20-year-old to play such games in her head, but that’s all I have other than my books.

Speaking of books, Ingaret, my favourite maid that is allowed to attend me, managed to slip a new one into my room yesterday without my mother knowing. You see, she prefers my literature to be filled with history and education while Ingaret is kind enough to slip in a bit of romance and adventure to go with it. You know, so that I don’t lose my mind up here.

The latest novel has me on the edge of my seat, but rather than read it all at once, I’m trying my best to drag it out for as long as possible. So that I have something to wait for, to get me excited, and because there’s nothing quite like reading a great book for the first time.

I’ve left it in the place where the Count has finally gotten revenge against the first man who betrayed him and caused all of his pain. It was satisfying, there’s no denying it and it consumes my mind to know that there are two more to go, not to mention his lover that has long since forgotten him.

All day I’ve been trying to imagine how he’ll do it, which plot twist will come next and while I’ll never tell anyone, I’ve attempted to write the ideal ending myself as another way to pass the time and let my imagination grow wild.

But right now that doesn’t matter, right now is the time where I finally get to leave.

The stone walls that make up my passage as I make my way towards the hidden door of my tower always have a way of chilling the air despite the clear sky and the hope of spring that has started to warm the weather. I only grabbed a light scarf to go with my veil this evening, but the draft has me rubbing my hands against my arms to try and spark some warmth into my bones until I can get out into the real world again.

Considering how no one is really meant to know that I exist, I find it odd how there are always candles lit along this path to light my way, and while I could pretend that it’s to guide me, I know that it will be to keep my mother safe from a miss-step when she decides to stop by.

I bet every aspect of my life is something my father has begrudged to hand over to me, but that’s okay, because I feel the same way about accepting it.

Thoughts like these aren’t fitting for a princess, is what my mother would say to me if I dared speak them out loud. But what I’ve always wanted to reply was that I’m not a princess, I am a prisoner with royal blood and my entire existence will tell you that the two are far from the same.

I can see the door now. With the thick wood designed to withstand the winter storms that can hit us hard due to being only a day from the coast, and there is a small window designed for guards to look out and grant access if there was ever someone assigned to protect me.

But no, when it comes to this tower now, the only instructions would be to hide me.

It’s hard to see through the veil which frustrates me to no end and so it takes a couple of minutes of standing on my tiptoes to look out of said window to make sure that there’s no one around when I make my exit.

It creaks slightly when I pull on the handle and the second the air hits me through the lace, it’s as if I’m breathing in properly for the first time today. I thought I imagined the excitement it can cause to be out here, but really, I always think that because memories are never as good as the real thing.

If someone were to see me right now I’d look ridiculous breathing in heavily and savouring every second of it. Very unseemly for a princess but for the next hour I don’t need to worry about that.

The grass is soft beneath my silk slippers and it almost feels as though I’m gliding through the garden. I can see in front of me perfectly well in this light, but the sun has gone down now and the crickets are chirping all around me as they hide in the flowers and bushes planted by my mothers grounds keeper.

There’s a rose bush by the door I just left that she had planted for me when I was moved here. She always says that I’m her favourite rose and how I’ve bloomed through the thorns life has put in front of me. Sometimes I wish we could forget the latter part but still it amazes me how she always seems to have a way with words.

That’s why she’s such a perfect Queen.

As I get closer towards the barrier of the grounds, I hear rustling to my left and panic slightly, wondering if it’s someone out here that shouldn’t be and that in turn, might get me in trouble with my father. But after a couple of minutes, my face turns from a hidden scowl into a grin that I doubt even the lace could hide.

“Nameless what are you doing in there?” I call to him in a happy voice that only he can bring out of me.

A yawl emerges from the closest bramble bush that I tend to sample more frequently than I should in the summer, and I lean down to move a prickly branch to the side to see if he needs any help.

It takes all I have not to scream when I see the tiny mouse beside him shaking in fear and now I know why he didn’t come when I called his name.

“Nameless, I feed you plenty!” I exclaim and he looks up at me, recognising the veil and the voice of his human. After all this time he’d gotten used to me looking like this I think, and it’s nice that someone knows me, even if it’s just my cat.

Another yawl is sent in my direction but he gives up reluctantly and makes his way out into the open and onto my lap now that I’ve knelt down to be closer to him.

“You mustn’t bully the mice out here, the castle has enough to keep you busy for months.” I tease, knowing that all he knows is that my voice is friendly and none of the words, but it helps to talk to him, to talk to someone that isn’t a maid or my mother.

He claws at the veil in front of my face, as if wanting to take it off and I sigh, knowing that my hour is up anyway and that he’ll soon get his way.

“Come inside you little rascal, I’ve got a saucer of cream with your name on it.” Yet somehow that sentence, he knows.

I lift him up into my arms, say my goodbyes to the sky and pad my way back over to the thick wooden door covered with the roses that only my mother and I know to be the sigil of my tower.