Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

      As I looked at the barren walls, I felt trapped. With only one tiny window in the room, high up near the ceiling and barred with crisscrossing metal, an overpowering sense of being confined in a secluded place overwhelmed me.

     With the sound of movement behind me, I turned to see Gell for the first time. His back was to me, but I could tell from his stature that he was as young as I had presumed. He was shorter than any of the other Hyven soldiers I had seen, but his body was still muscular. His legs were thick and solid and he had a wide strong chest. His head was buzzed to very little hair and a small scar adorned the back of his scalp. Dressed in all black like the other Hyven he moved without regard for my presence. When he turned around, he caught me staring and I looked down at the table he stood beside.

     On the table that sat before the fire was a plate of food. There was a large chunk of brown meat and a hunk of what looked to be dry bread. Gell gestured to the plate, beckoning me forward. I moved cautiously while eyeing him. He stared back just as carefully, his eyes mirroring my own fear. I froze for a moment, realizing he found me dangerous. Deciding to test the theory, I raised my head with confidence and strode past him to the table. My heart was thundering inside my chest, but I refused to let him know my fear.

      Taking my seat with a dignified air, I began to work whatever advantage I could gain from his hesitance. He fidgeted under my gaze, concluding my observations, and a bubble of hope built within my chest. Falling into my new role I waved a hand in dismissal and to my pleasure Gell turned around immediately and headed for the door.

     Hope was building within me when I saw the massive wooden door swing to a close. Plans for escape were thrashing through my mind until I heard the telltale scrape of a key within the lock. With a loud click the door shut firmly, locking me inside. 

     Everything shattered in that one instant. All the tears, the anger, the fear, the desperate love, the pain. It all fell into a crumbling mess, into wracking sobs that shook my body while the still wet dress clung to my dry skin.

     Shoving the plate of food forward on the table, I rested my head on my arms. My shoulders shook with each gasp of breath as I realized what had become of us. I feared for Patrick, yearned for him. 

     Still trembling with tears and emotion, I rolled my head to look into the fire. Wet drops rolled down the side of my face and onto the table. Something cold and hard pressed into my scalp. Curious, I lifted my heavy head to locate the cause of my discomfort.

     There on my wrist was the bracelet Patrick had given me. Sweet tears trickled down my cheeks as I remembered his face as he gave it to me. Smiling, I touched the delicate stones and rolled them against my skin. The soft pearly white circles tickled my flesh and flickered pink in the light of the fire.

     As I gazed at the bracelet, something strong returned to my soul. Hope. I had to hang on to the love that had given me this token. The love that was the only thing worth living for. The love that I felt for Patrick, love that I would rather die for than live without would pull me through.

     With determination, I rested my head once more against my arms and closed my eyes.  No more tears were shed.

26. Trapped

A week slowly inched by leaving me crazed as I paced the room back and forth, never stopping and always wondering what was happening in the rest of the stone castle. I never saw anyone other than Gell. Every day he entered the room and placed food on the table and then left without so much as looking at me. I tried to get him to speak, but every time I asked him something he ignored me and only hurried out of the room quicker.

     The frustration I felt at being trapped, never knowing when this monotonous string of days would end, was like nothing I had ever experienced before. The lack of knowledge about what was going on outside my four stone walls made me anxious and I bit my lip until it cracked and bled.

     A soft knock sounded on the wooden door.

     “Come in,” I said quietly, and the door opened with its usual loud whine. Not caring to look back, I continued to face the fireplace from where I stood with my arms crossed over my chest.

     The familiar sounds of a platter being placed on the table clattered behind me. I could smell the freshly cooked meat and bread, and hear the water slosh into the crude wooden cup and a thud when the pitcher was placed once more on the table. Immediately the soft retreat of footsteps began.

     “Gell?” I asked, a sudden thought reaching me. The footsteps stopped and I turned to look at the stocky young man. “How long will I be here?” I had asked the same question before and had never received an answer. It didn’t surprise me when he turned to leave again.

     “Wait,” I called quickly and once again he paused. His face was uncertain as though he had been given orders not to speak to me.
That’s it
, I thought. Morven must have warned him against conversing with me. Inside me, the anger which was growing gradually every day increased even more.

     “Gell,” I said slowly, trying to get him to respond. Trying a different tactic I continued, “Since it seems that I will be here for some time, could I get water for a bath and some clothes?” I motioned toward the now filthy lavender gown that I was still wearing. Over the past week and a half, he had provided a pitcher of water and rag for me to wash myself. I thought that asking for more might get him to open up. But Gell looked at my dirty dress for a moment and then turned and left quickly, leaving me more hopeless than before.

     Disgruntled, I sat in the hard wooden chair. Was I going to be driven mad by this room?
Probably
. I had paced for hours the night before, unable to sleep. The fears of what Morven was doing continued to control my mind. Not knowing what his plan was or what was happening was more fearful than being in his presence.

     Rapping my fingers against the wooden table, I chewed my lip once more and winced as I reopened the crack in the raw skin. Every part of my body ached for something to do, something to occupy my mind other than the constant pressures and worries of the situation I was in. The lack of action by Morven made me all the more stressed.

     My gaze landed on the wardrobe standing in the corner of the room. Its presence annoyed me, every day I had tried to open it but the lock was rusted shut. With a loud huff, I crossed the room ready to retry my feeble attempts. This time I carried the dull bread knife from the table in my hand.

     Reaching out, I touched the brass handle and jerked on the rusted lock. The familiar sound of grinding metal filled my ears. Frustrated, I stabbed the bread knife into the crease and pulled down hard trying to jostle the lock. It wouldn’t budge.

     With a cry of anger, I grabbed both knobs and placed my foot against the stubborn wood and yanked with all my strength. The doors creaked and moaned loudly, but broke with a shattering clang and I stumbled backwards to the floor.

     The hinges on both doors squeaked as they swung back and forth. Through the dim lighting I peered into the wardrobe, trying to make out the shapes inside. Leaning forward, my face met the musty smell of ancient air. I scrunched my nose, but stood up to touch the clothing hanging inside.

     The fabric was softer than I expected, and the dark pieces of wear appeared to be from the middle ages, like costumes out of a movie. Grabbing one hanger, I strained to lift the heavy article of clothing out of the wardrobe. In the firelight my eyes rested upon the dark cloak, taking in the size and intricate design. Swinging it over my shoulders, I found it to be too long, but very warm as it encased my entire body. Looking into the large mirror across the room I lifted the hood of the cloak, surprised to see how well the dark fabric covered my appearance and made me look more like a man than a woman.

     Looking back into the wardrobe, I scoured through the other articles of clothing, but didn’t find anything interesting. Everything in the wardrobe was for a male and all much too big for my use.

     Squatting down, I turned my attention to the two drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe. Using the same amount of strength as before, I tugged hard on the top drawer and it grudgingly opened to reveal more old clothing. Riffling through the perfectly folded fabric, I found nothing interesting and turned my attention to the next drawer. This one was even stiffer than the first and after many jabs from the butter knife and pulling as hard as I could, it relented. As soon as I saw what was inside, I froze.

     There was only one piece of fabric in the drawer, and as I pushed it aside my hand touched something hard. Moving what appeared to be an old shirt or tunic of sorts, I spotted something heavy on the bottom of the drawer. Squinting in the dim light, I reached in and picked up the object. It was no longer than my forearm and very light in my hand. Curious, I carried it over to the fire to gain a better look.

     As the light revealed the object in my hand, I gasped and almost dropped it. My fingers were wrapped around the handle of a dagger that was in its sheath. Shaking, I pulled the blade from its sheath, revealing a glinting blade with a sharp pointed edge. I pondered at the presence of the knife in the wardrobe. Why would it be here? Wouldn’t they have gotten rid of all weapons? All of a sudden certain words came back to me.

   
I found it strange that she had kept the knife in the room and within my reach
. I gasped when I thought of the words and how Patrick had related them to me. My mind whirled. This couldn’t be the same room. I spun around, hoping that this was not the place where his life had turned into such a nightmare. As I looked, only more things pointed toward the conclusion; the bed, the roughly furnished room, the medieval clothes, the dagger, and the window that was too high to reach all seemed to agree.

     I flew to the wardrobe, hoping to find something in the drawer that would prove me wrong. I pulled the ruffled shirts and pants out. To my great horror I found the one piece of clothing that concluded my fears. It was a white billowy shirt and on the right shoulder there was a huge gash and bloodstain. I thought of Patrick’s terrifying tale and the tears began to flow, filling my eyes and pouring down my cheeks where they hit the stone floor.

     Hanging onto the shirt, I rocked back and forth. It was as close to Patrick as I could get, but the foreign smell of the shirt only reminded me of how far away I currently was from him. The feeling of doom as though I would never see him again crept over me and I tried to remember when I last saw his face. Just before the blindfold was placed over my eyes he had looked at me, more confidently and lovingly than ever before. Yet that was so long ago, and the sounds of the Hyven beating him in the cave were still ingrained in my mind.

    Breathing deeply, I tried to regain my confidence and hope, but it seemed that the old bloody shirt had taken everything from me. I now knew where Morven was. He was turning Patrick into a warrior so he could have the power that he desired. He was finishing what his mother had started.

     My mind conjured up pictures of Morven beating Patrick and I shuddered, still rocking back and forth while hugging his shirt.

     With a shaky breath I pulled myself together. I was going to have to fight for what I wanted, and what I wanted was Patrick. I wanted him in front of me safe and sound. I wanted to see him smile when I told him that I loved him.

     These thoughts replaced my courage. I was going to do all that I could to make it so, even if it meant standing up to Morven.

     Looking down at the handsome dagger in my hand, I put it away. I couldn’t let them know I had a weapon. The possibility that it could give me an advantage was enough of an incentive to put it back where I had found it.

    Carefully, I placed the shirt and hunting knife back in the drawer and rehung the cloak in the wardrobe. The doors snapped shut with a click of finality and I returned to my spot near the fire, watching the embers fall as my mind ran rampant with the new information I had acquired.

     Once more a soft knock rang through the room and I jumped. Usually Gell only came once a day. My heart sputtered, unsure of how to proceed.

    “Come in,” I called, hoping I sounded confident and not weak like I felt.

     Gell entered the room, his eyes looking at the floor as always. In his hands he carried something dark and bulky. I was immediately curious, and then shock absorbed me when two mermen I had never seen before entered the room. They carried a large marble tub between them and hot water with rising steam sloshed within its confines. The mere sight of the water caused an immediate reaction within me. I wanted to slip into its warmth so badly. It had been twelve days since I had last washed and the idea was most inviting.

     The two mermen set the heavy tub on the floor and the water slopped loudly. Without a glance toward me, the mermen left, shutting the wooden door noisily behind them. Gell, still looking at the floor, walked over to the bed and placed whatever was in his arms upon it. He moved it around and pulled out two bottles from inside the bundle.

     Keeping his face downcast, he walked closer to me and offered with outstretched arms the bottles. I took them cautiously and his arms dropped to his sides. In one quick glance I realized that the little glass vials contained soap for my hair and body.

     “Thank you,” I said genuinely.

     Gell glanced up at me, his youthful face confused. Never having had the chance to look directly at him, I was surprised to see a long scar along his throat. Remembering his scratchy voice, I concluded this scar was the reason for it. 

     “What happened?” I nodded toward his throat and Gell became self-conscious. He dipped his head back down. “Did someone fight you? Did Morven do that to you?”

    My voice grew harsh as I spoke the last question, my anger building inside. Gell flinched in reaction. Slowly, he lifted his head once more and stared back at me. 

     “What happened, Gell?” I asked, surprised by my reaction to his past pain. Looking nervously from side to side, Gell opened his mouth to speak.

     “I got in a fight a long time ago,” he said, his raspy voice harsh and causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. “I was foolish and paid dearly for it.”

     I nodded, not really sure what to say. He still looked very young to me. Then again, he most likely wasn’t much older than me.

     “I almost died, but the mermaids saved me.” Gell half-smiled.

     “Who did it?” I asked, certain it was Morven.

     “The Lathmorian prince.” Shocked, I stared at him in surprise. I couldn’t believe Tunder was capable of something like this, but then again it was war. Gell’s eyes were kindled with the fire of hatred, a look that I had seen in Morven’s eyes too many times. My hopes fell: Gell was just like the rest of the Hyven—he was power hungry and wanted revenge.

     “Oh,” I said, not sure of what else to say.

     Gell nodded again and then looked at me curiously. He unexpectedly turned around and headed for the door. The loud click of the key resounded in the chamber and I was once again alone. With a heavy sigh I looked toward the bath and began to undress.

     The warm water rose over my body and a cry of relief passed through my lips. The water provided comfort and the luxury enveloped me. I remained in the tub until the water turned lukewarm. Regretting the end of my comfort, I hopped out of the old tub and shivered, looking around for something to cover myself with while my body quickly dried. A pool of water formed beneath my feet. 

    My eyes rested on the tattered and dirtied dress I had worn at the wedding. The color was no longer a vibrant lavender, but had faded to a dull ugly pink—bland and dank like the walls surrounding me. Looking at it off my person made me realize how much damage the trip to Hyvar had had upon it.

     Beside the dress was the dark bundle Gell had carried in earlier. Reaching out to the large bundle of cloth, I unfolded a long, dark corseted dress. Lifting it up off the bed by the shoulders, the heavy draping skirt grazed the floor in a curtain of iridescent black. Knowing it was meant for me, I struggled my way into the gown, closing up the front of the corset bodice with a thick black string which wove between the two pieces at the front. The hard boning structure ended just above my chest and left me in want for more fabric. Black cotton rose from beneath the corset and stretched around the tops of my arms, leaving my shoulders bare. 

     Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my reflection and stared at it openly. The sight was odd and unfamiliar. The midnight black of the dress enveloped my body, and the hem grazed the floor while the bodice pinched in my waist and emphasized my chest. Once more uncomfortable, I shifted in the gown, wanting it to reach higher up in the front. Tugging at it did nothing, and I sighed heavily, knowing I must get back into the worn out lavender dress.