Outliers

Sunlight washes over my eyelids. I slowly open my eyes, fearing to be dead. I lick my dry lips and see the velvets hanging by grand frosted windows. I hear short whispers and strain my neck to look around. Maids scurry to my side.

“My lady! You’re awake,” one whispers, “Do you want me to get the Prince?”

I grimace, too weak to understand what she’s saying. I’m back in the mansion. I try to remember what had happened. I’m wrapped in a furry duvet and surrounded by plush pillows and ribbons of linen. Another tries to feed me soup. I push my self to sit up and feel my body stiffen. I hang my head low and rub my dry eyes. My sinus is paining and I breathe through my mouth.

“How’d I get here?” I murmur.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair.

“Would you like us to run you a bath?” a maid asks me delicately.

Suddenly the doors burst open and frighten all of us. Prance stands there, poised, and dangers me with a stare. I grip the duvet in my hands. The maids bow their head and leave the room. For that second, I wished they didn’t.

“Why’d you bring me back here?” I demand, with a crackly voice.

His lip quickly twitches. It seems to suck all the heat out of my body. There’s a long shiver in my back, as he walks up to my bed. He stops beside me. He continues to glare down at me.

“You should have left me to die!” I spit, angrily. I’m ready to tear myself open. I swing my arms at him and scream, “Why didn’t you let me die! I’m as good as dead! Just kill me now. Kill me now!”

He takes in my punches without flinching. I sob and drop my weak arms. If I could drop dead, I would. My shoulders shake irrepressibly. I’ve been nothing but hurting inside. Even when I try, I can’t be still. I’m losing it. My mind is breaking, realizing that I’m alone in this world and nothing can fix me. The only sensation I can feel that reminds me that I’m still alive is the aroma of grapefruit embracing my nostrils.

“Sage,” he says.

I feel his fingers lift my chin up, forcing me to look into his opal eyes.

“Don’t hate me. There are enough people in the world who do,” he tells me.

He grazes his thumb across my tears. I stay frozen by his gentleness. I don’t understand it. I’ve never known it. Before I can breathe again, he draws back and walks away. I watch the sharp edges of his back, as he moves. It somehow locks itself in my head.

I take my baths and eat my meals, which helps my bones to heal. The maids and butlers entertain me for days and days, and I never see Prance. I don’t believe I want to. I spend my mornings getting lost through the mansion and discover all sorts of rooms for all sorts of events. I stay in the library at night and read books until sunrise. The pages are white and glossy, as though they’ve never been touched. Some days I play around with the grand crystal glass piano with silver and gold keys. Though I don’t know what I’m doing, I keep hitting random melodies.

“What day are we?” I ask the maid standing on the tip of her toes, waiting for some kind of command from me.

“Seventeenth day of November, my Lady,” she answers.

I let go of the piano and look out the large window. Only five months left…until I expire.

“I told you to call me, Sage,” I say back to her.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, my Lady,” she bows

I sigh and walk out the piano room. She follows me.

“Where’s the Prince?” I ask, rubbing my fingers together.

“He’s away visiting different sovereigns, my Lady,” she says.

“Diplomatic things?”

The maid nods. I feel like a pampered prisoner. Why doesn’t he let me go?

“When will he return?” I ask on.

I don’t know why I need to know.

“He didn’t say.”

I begin to think about what I can do to get out of here. I know its impossible now. Suddenly, a few maids rush towards me, bowing.

“My Lady, his Eminence has come. He wishes you greet him,” they tell me.

I frown, “What?”

I’m lead to the entrance of the mansion and I see the King in the foyer, giving his coat to a butler. He sees me too and smiles.

“Ah! Sage, how do you do?” he chuckles, as always.

I press my lips together tightly and give him a quick bow. He looks around the foyer.

“Where’s Prance?” he asks, sitting in the velvet coated chair.

“He’s…” I slowly answer, choosing my words carefully to sound worthy, “Away tending to diplomatic matters throughout Polaris.”

The King raises his brows, “Oh,”

Feeling awkward, as I know nothing about royal conducts, I look over to one of my maids.

“Get his Eminence a warm beverage,” I order for the first time.

She bows and goes her way. I stay standing, as the King stares at me.

“Where did you say you were from, again?” the King asks me.

“This city,” I lie, “I lived by the bay.”

“What does your father do?”

I try my best to look him in the eye.

“He’s passed,” I say, though I never had one.

The King looks down, “My condolences.”

“It was long ago,” I reassure, “He… managed a textile company.”

The King nods his head, “Ah, fine fabrics are an important commerce. He must have been a wealthy man.”

I don’t know why he keeps talking about my imaginary deceased father, but I try to wheel it in a new direction.

“He was. He, uh, taught me everything I know,” I say. I look over to another maid and give another order, “Bring my designs for his Eminence to see.”

She bows to and goes. I’ll never get used to this. The King drinks his black coffee.

“You do designs?” he asks.

“I have a skill for textures and cuts,” I try to sound boastful.

The King laughs amusingly. The maids bring my folded sewn work and dressed mannequins with fabric collages.

“This is quite nice,” The King compliments, “No wonder my son’s been dressing better.

He laughs and I force a smile. When he clears his throat, I wave my hand, motioning the maids to put away my things.

“Now, I remember your proposal back at the meeting. Something of investing in the Hitherlands. Tell me, why do you think that would help the Cygnus?”

“I… I think it will give them more opportunities in life. I’ve been… troubled with the waves of execution in the Hitherlands.”

He brushes his thumb against his bearded chin.

“Companionate woman, you are,” he says.

“Perhaps if they had more resources, it would be easier for them to do their duties. It would benefit you and Polaris. You’d worry less about the… unbalance.”

He ponders on my words. I try to speak his language, which is prosperity.

“I see what you’re saying,” he tells me, “Since you are such a resourceful young woman…”

I hide my trembling hands behind me.

The King continues, “I will leave you in charge to go to the Hitherlands and provide some emolument to the people. I’ll invest, as you advocate. With you, I’ll send assistance.”

My chest rises with a long inhale. Who knew the King could be so… kind. I finally feel like I have some power to help my people.

“Thank you,” I bow.

“But,” he adds coldly, standing to his feet. My stomach falls. “The Outliers there must comply to the Cygnus. I won’t guarantee that I will spare any rebels.”

He motions for the butler to get his coat. My body becomes stiff again. The way the word ‘rebels’ rolls off his tongue… I take back what I said about him.

“You understand, don’t you,” he watches me from the corner of his eye.

I nod, as I can’t do anything else. He smiles, taking pipe his pipe.

“Ah, tell Prance I stopped by. It is time for me to go. It was lovely seeing you, Sage.”

He walks out and everyone in the foyer bows. Though, I didn’t.