THE CONFLICT #2

CHAPTER 7

EMMALINE

Coming awake I stretch my sore muscles, feeling the bite of the cold in the stone prison cell. Despite the temperature and my stiff body, I climb off the comfy bed and slowly head for the clean iron bars. My face presses against them and I peek through the gap, wondering not for the first time if Novena is somewhere in the cells next to my own. I search up and down the corridor for signs of guards or a door – anything that could possibly be of some use to know. But the bland corridor stretches further than my limited view can see.

Taking courage, I shout at the top of my lungs, “Novena!" I'm greeted with silence but I try again anyway, "Novena! Are you here?”

I hear heavy boots walking on the stone floor as a huge man steps into my line of sight. Backing away from the bars with cautious fear, I watch the huge man, plain in facial features with a bald head, smack the bars with his long classically designed sword.

“Be quiet!” He shouts angrily, spit flying.

I suppress the urge to make a face of disgust. Taking a large breath, I strengthen my courage.

“Where am I? Where is the Princess from the South?” I ask, hopeful for some small kindness that I very much doubt I would get.

“You are to remain silent.” The man garbles, clearly annoyed.

“How come? Is this the dungeon of the silent?” I shoot back sarcastically.

The man smiles a mean smile, showing his elongated canines. I sober in the face of his animosity. He doesn’t say a word, but his message is clear. I watch curiously as he vanishes from my view and his heavy steps beat down the corridor. Frowning, I wander around the room working my legs. The food tray brought yesterday is no longer here. It would be interesting to see if she would again come into my cell or whether they would regard me as a person requiring precautions now that I am feeling stronger. I have a feeling that wouldn’t be the case. After a few minutes of pacing around the room, I sit on the still made bed that someone had originally just dumped me on. Didn’t even bother to tuck me in, the bastard – I think as I entertain myself by peering through the decent size square window. Judging from the sunlight, I would guess the day is still very young, probably younger than I’ve seen since varsity if I don’t count the rushed travel to the Broken City. I always picked the latest class in an attempt to lounge my mornings away. So much has changed since Novena and I have graduated, and I miss the days when her only worry was that she was being forced into marriage and mine was how the crown would use my ability now that my main purpose as Novena’s companion would soon come to an end. I would no longer have been so closely tied to her but rather free for the King’s disposal. Weary as I was with the prospect, I would take it back any day over war and our recent capture. My ears quirk drawing my attention back to the bars as hasty soft steps approached accompanied by turning wheels. I don’t wait long before the blonde-haired blue-eyed girl comes pushing a cart - her long hair tied high out of her slim face. She comes to a halt outside my cozy little cell. Fumbling through the pocket of her white apron, she pulls out a single key fastened onto a metal tag. She raises her haze to check my location, I assume, then proceeds to slip the key into the lock and pushes the gate open. I raise a brow in surprise. I wasn’t expecting this. Turning to the cart, she opens the silver doors and pulls out a tray. Leaving the cart outside, she moves into the cell.

I rise from the bed, preparing to stand when her smooth voice stops me, “Please don’t get up. Stay where you are, and I’ll bring the tray to you.” She says waiting for me to sink back down.

I wait as she approaches the bed and places the tray of fruits and this time it includes an assortment of meats and potatoes. I momentarily glaze at the striped tabby cat that follows her in without care. She begins to withdraw, and I fumble for a reason to keep her here.

“Uhm… thank you.”

She nods, pausing slightly. The tabby cat leaps onto the bed beside me and takes a seat comfortably, watching the scene unfold.

I continued quickly, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

Her eyes narrow slightly, “Soraya. Why do you want to know?”

I close my eyes for just a second, feeling for the energy deep inside my core. At first there is nothing. Just the darkness created by the lids of my eyes. I squeeze them tighter imaging that I was in that darkness, searching for something. I search that endless darkness until a cord, silver as mercury, appears to lead me to a place no one but myself can travel. That silver strand is attached to a ball of moving silver flames. It is about the size of my palm. Touching it’s electrifying pulse, I push my desire out, letting the energy flow from me in waves of power that laps over the pale skinned girl. Only I seem to see the ripples in the air as if it were water. I put on a shy but frightened look, enhancing the effects of my ability.

I say softly and meekly, “I don’t know where I am or how I got here. Is there any way you can at least tell me where I am?”

The cat lets out a high-pitched growl, it's tail flicking side to side on the bed in annoyance. It's green eyes seem to narrow at me as if the animal can tell what I am doing.

I see her features soften, “Ignore him, he has his moments of unpleasantness. You’re in the North’s Capital as a prisoner of war by order of Prince Phobos.”

I branch as she says his name. Something strange is happening here. Why would he make me a prisoner and not the crowned prince? Has he been given control over my containment? This series of unanswered questions keep piling on the anxiety eating away at me.

She seems to read my mind, "Prince Phobos is the Norths War General. He usually hands down the sentencing of prisioners, whether it's imprisonment or execution."

The blood drains from my face, "Am I to be executed?"

She shakes her blonde head, "Not to my knowledge but I am only the help."

Gathering my wits, I press her for more. “Do you know anything about Princess Novena and how she fares?” I venture, pouring power from my being, willing her to do my bidding, to tell me what I want to know.

The long-haired tabby-cat lets loose a vicious hiss that has spit flying before scurrying off the bed in a hurry. She frowns at the cat's behavior, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. I'm now almost certain that the animal is able to detect my magic. Suddenly, there is a resistance surrounding the servant girl. Like an invisible shield blocking any further attempts to tamper with her mind.

“I do.” She answers.

I wait but nothing more is said. Shoot! I compel her to continue, to want to tell me more but I am met with the same infuriating resistance as before. I see the struggle on her face as she tries to remain calm. She forces herself to simply watch with passive eyes. My heart beats faster. I have a suspicion she knows what I’m trying to do - that she feels far more than she seems willing to let me know. Recoiling, I hide my puzzlement and disappointment. The drug must be messing with my ability I surmise. Finding that far more agreeable than the thought of Soraya having the ability to block me out. I've never known anyone to be able to block me out.

“Are your questions finished?” Soraya asks, her hands folded in front of her in a subservient manner.

“No…” I grumble, thinking carefully of what I’m going to say, “I have a few actually but I don’t think you would have the answers.”

“Well then…” She starts, moving again towards the gate.

Something catches my notice as I watch her leaving. The roundness of her ears. Her shortness.

“Wait, are you human?” I ask in amusement. Surely I am mistaken.

As a servant she would have to be an Omega which very evidently shows the tell-tale signs of the wolf hiding beneath their skin, or so I hear. The lower the werewolf is on the scale of ranking, the more evident the animal half of them is. She however has no characteristics of an animal at all. No elongated ears or canines that stick out of her mouth. Her nails are not claws, a tail isn't poking through her pants nor is the rest of her body giving any telltale signs.

She tilts her head, smiling rather oddly, “Flesh and blood." Soraya confirms.

I gape at her confirmation, shaking my head in bewilderment, “Why do you serve these monsters when they murder your own kind? Oh my word…How are there humans that still remain here? Why haven’t you fled to the South?” I fire my questions one after the other like word vomit.

She isn’t smiling anymore, “Those are some good questions. Some believe that our… southern kin have spat on the freedom and sacrifice the Werewolves gave willingly in service to us by fighting for our liberation from the Slave Makers. Why then shouldn’t we give our service back to them? Why shouldn’t we trust that their way is what is best for us?”

I have no response for her. She cannot be serious. How brainwashed could she be? Did they all think like her?

Her lips quirked up on the sides, “You don’t agree?” Soraya asks sweetly, her fair hair falling over her shoulder as she c***s her head at me.

I shake my head. That would be a strong no.

Soraya shrugs, hardly bothered, “Well that’s probably because you are born and raised in the South.” She turns serious, giving me a measured look, “If you were smart, you would be careful what you say and who you say things to, lest you offend someone.”

Her voice dips to barely a whisper, I strain to hear her, but hear her I do. “The walls have ears.” Soraya warns.

My eyes dart back and forth across the room looking for evidence that we are being watched and listened to. She has me at a loss for words. I simply look stupidly at her as she smiles strangely at me. They can’t be normal. Well, my definition of normal anyway. Finally, Soraya must have decided that I am no longer entertaining because she bids me a pleasant meal and leaves. Closing the gate, locking and taking the silver metal keys with her. Without a second glance Soraya disappears down the corridor.