turned and held her trembling palms in front of her dress so he could not see her edginess and silently led the way into the gleaming little dining room. The footmen had been to work and already lit the chandeliers above the rich mahogany table. The smell of beeswax proved they had just shined the furniture. There was a service for five set up, even though no one would be eating for another couple of hours.
“What can I do for you?” Her hands nervously rearranged the floral centerpiece that had been placed there that morning for her. Every day the gardener sent up a newly picked bouquet of flowers for her supper meal. The bouquets that were still fresh were sent throughout the house in other rooms and the maids attended them. It was a tradition started by her mother and one she had kept ever since. “My mother would have loved this bouquet had she been here to see it,” she mused out loud.
My mother.
My mother?
Aleyna had heard mention of her mother often over the last several years, but her memories of her were—did she have memories of her mother? A flash of confusion and pain swept through her body and her knees buckled slightly as she stumbled against the tabletop. What was happening?
“My Queen, are you well?” Darién stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Instantly she began to change and become more alive, more colorful again.
Aleyna moved away from his hand. Her whole insides were twisting into great knots. She needed to leave, needed to breathe, needed to think. The prince simply could not see her like this. A spark of light blinded her for a moment and then the cries and screams began. As if launched within a living nightmare—her ears exploded with the desperate cries of those all around her. Who were they? What was happening? She stumbled again and barely caught herself upon the back of a chair, her head titling precariously over the seat.
“Your Majesty, you are ill. Let me assist you, please.” Again Darién stepped forward to hold her and she pushed against his arm, the contact causing her hand to change before him, until she let go and staggered backward. She was going to fall. He could not let her fall in front of him. He walked toward the translucent girl, his arms outstretched ready to catch her if needed. “What is occurring? Can you explain your symptoms so that I may be of some aid to you? Indeed, you look very ill.”
She covered her ears and winced, her feet faltering in their attempt to get away. Get out of the room. Leave this noise. “I cannot—” she gasped out, “I cannot s-say what is happening—I do not know. The screams are s-so loud…must…stop.” A tear escaped as another twist of pain seared through her insides and she collapsed with a moan—hitting the ground with a thud.
“Aleyna!” her name escaped unbidden from his lips. In a moment he was on the filthy floor and she was captured up in his arms, held closely against chest. Her soft pain-filled whimpers nearly undid him. His heart was raw from the agony he could see on her now fully opaque face, as her hands still attempting to block the sounds only she could hear. She should not suffer like this—no woman should—but not her, not now, not after all she has endured before. “Aleyna,” he whispered. “Aleyna, my dear, is that it? Are you hearing your past, my Queen? Has it unlocked within you?”
Her body shuddered at his words and on instinct she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against him tighter.
His own hand wound up and held her delicate ear for her and kept the other close to his heart. “Shh…” he crooned softly. His breath stirring the disrupted tendrils of hair on her forehead. “Shh…I am here. You are not going to suffer alone, my dear. I will not leave you. I am here.”
***
Ezralon whipped his head up at the flickering, trembling dome. It is happening! She is beginning to remember. No, not yet. Not like this, it will be too agonizing for her. The
“What can I do for you?” Her hands nervously rearranged the floral centerpiece that had been placed there that morning for her. Every day the gardener sent up a newly picked bouquet of flowers for her supper meal. The bouquets that were still fresh were sent throughout the house in other rooms and the maids attended them. It was a tradition started by her mother and one she had kept ever since. “My mother would have loved this bouquet had she been here to see it,” she mused out loud.
My mother.
My mother?
Aleyna had heard mention of her mother often over the last several years, but her memories of her were—did she have memories of her mother? A flash of confusion and pain swept through her body and her knees buckled slightly as she stumbled against the tabletop. What was happening?
“My Queen, are you well?” Darién stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Instantly she began to change and become more alive, more colorful again.
Aleyna moved away from his hand. Her whole insides were twisting into great knots. She needed to leave, needed to breathe, needed to think. The prince simply could not see her like this. A spark of light blinded her for a moment and then the cries and screams began. As if launched within a living nightmare—her ears exploded with the desperate cries of those all around her. Who were they? What was happening? She stumbled again and barely caught herself upon the back of a chair, her head titling precariously over the seat.
“Your Majesty, you are ill. Let me assist you, please.” Again Darién stepped forward to hold her and she pushed against his arm, the contact causing her hand to change before him, until she let go and staggered backward. She was going to fall. He could not let her fall in front of him. He walked toward the translucent girl, his arms outstretched ready to catch her if needed. “What is occurring? Can you explain your symptoms so that I may be of some aid to you? Indeed, you look very ill.”
She covered her ears and winced, her feet faltering in their attempt to get away. Get out of the room. Leave this noise. “I cannot—” she gasped out, “I cannot s-say what is happening—I do not know. The screams are s-so loud…must…stop.” A tear escaped as another twist of pain seared through her insides and she collapsed with a moan—hitting the ground with a thud.
“Aleyna!” her name escaped unbidden from his lips. In a moment he was on the filthy floor and she was captured up in his arms, held closely against chest. Her soft pain-filled whimpers nearly undid him. His heart was raw from the agony he could see on her now fully opaque face, as her hands still attempting to block the sounds only she could hear. She should not suffer like this—no woman should—but not her, not now, not after all she has endured before. “Aleyna,” he whispered. “Aleyna, my dear, is that it? Are you hearing your past, my Queen? Has it unlocked within you?”
Her body shuddered at his words and on instinct she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against him tighter.
His own hand wound up and held her delicate ear for her and kept the other close to his heart. “Shh…” he crooned softly. His breath stirring the disrupted tendrils of hair on her forehead. “Shh…I am here. You are not going to suffer alone, my dear. I will not leave you. I am here.”
***
Ezralon whipped his head up at the flickering, trembling dome. It is happening! She is beginning to remember. No, not yet. Not like this, it will be too agonizing for her. The
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