Chapter 19: 19. Before Dawn Breaks

- ARELLIA -

I sit uncomfortably on a hard wooden stool as Yhana gathers my hair in her hands. The feeling is nostalgic and alien all at once.

"I'm sorry, princess." She says softly. I shake my head and watch Enka as she lies there curled up in a ball, breathing softly, listening to the sounds of Yhana shuffling behind me. She seems so small lying there in the cot, like a baby bird. Guilt rises in me at the thought of leaving her in this wretched castle all alone, but it does no good. It does not undo the pain she suffered at the hands of my brother.

"We must ensure you are not so easily recognised." Ermund passes Yhana a pair of large steel sheers. The first cut comes and the noise is sharp and loud in my ears. I clench my jaw. It feels like I am shedding a part of myself, my identity. But, it had never belonged to me. I must remind myself that the crown princess of Illya was forged and moulded in the furnaces of this court. My outer beauty and calm demeanour are a mask. It is seldom how I feel within.

When she finishes cutting the last lock of hair, I let go of a long breath. I drag my fingers over the sharpness of the freshly cut strands. It tickles the back of my neck and runs to the top of my shoulders. There are no mirrors in this chamber and I am glad for it.

"There is nothing we can do about your eyes, princess, but at least now, you will be able to move around without attracting attention." I nod as I watch her gather piles of silken black hair from the stone floor into her arms and cram the strands into a brown bag.

"What will you do with it?" Awkwardly, I gather my hair into a tight knot at the nape of my neck, picturing the royal librarian, Mariam, and her tightly wound bun as I try to replicate and tie my hair in that same style. But, I am clumsy. My fingers are weak and shaking. A messy ponytail is all I am capable of.

"We will burn this along with your dress, princess. Then we must go." My heart speeds. My anxiety rises anew. My quiet life in the palace no longer exists. It ended the moment my father passed. Now, I must say goodbye to the only place I have ever known.

I place a trembling hand on my chest and drag my finger over the swirls and pattern of my mother's crest. It is the only thing left of hers that I have. Though, my father is gone; I am thankful to have spent eighteen years by his side. Memories of my father ignite hope in me, willing me to move forward. But, it is this burning animosity for my brother that fuels me. Without it, I fear I would be lost.

When Yhana urges me to stand and she starts to unclasp my dress, I take a deep breath. Edmund stands at the other side of the door on the lookout. I am nervous. I have lived in opulence my entire life. I believe myself naive to think that I will survive alone out there in a world I have never seen. A world I have only ever read about. I must look the bloody fool to believe that I will escape this prison of mine; for the hope of freedom to blossom so vehemently inside me.

Yhana speaks true; no matter what garment I wear or how I change my hair, my eyes will remain the same. The eyes of Eryad. The folk call it a blessing from Zarxos but I believe it a curse. Were it not for these eyes of mine, perhaps my father would not have guarded me so. Perhaps, my brother would not have hated me so.

As Yhana dismantles my mother's dress, I don my servant's garb. The bland, dusty tunic is too large, hanging off my frame awkwardly. The trousers are long so I fold and tuck them into my boots and tie the pouch of jewels tightly to my waist. The leather belt holds everything together. I remind myself that if I stay, I will wither away, slowly, like a flower in a cramped vase. I realise choice is power. And I never felt more powerful than I have in my life than this very moment.

Lastly, Yhana gives me a gardener's sunhat, to partially obscure my eyes. I hope I do not look as absurd as I feel. I do not believe it will make much difference, but I do not depreciate her efforts. She hands me a small piece of leather fabric. It is part of my mother's dress, all cut up to show only the crest by the very same sheers that snipped away a part of me mere minutes ago.

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Bitter sadness encompasses me, making my eyes sting and threatening tears. I take the crest and stuff it into my tunic and kiss Enka's forehead. I know it is goodbye. Though, part of me refuses to believe so. A piece of my heart that holds on to the hope that this is just a fever dream, that I will wake tomorrow and see Enka just as she was; bright-eyed, jaunty and gutsy.

But, I know it can never be. This moment will be our last. Yhana leaves the room to give me privacy. I give my last words to Enka.

"I love you," I whisper into her ear. I know she is listening as a tear falls from her eyes and she shudders. I linger for a moment, hoping she would open her eyes and her mouth and tell me she loves me. But, she does not.

I exit the room and out into the dim hallway, pulling my sunhat down. My heart breaks. When the door shuts behind me, I say a silent prayer for my only friend. Though I know better; still, I wish for her, that when she passes, they will bury her next to my mother and father.

Yhana and Ermund lead me through a quiet hallway. It seems like a maze of dozens of small rooms. Everything is close and cramped. We pad down a wide stone staircase without rails. The air is frigid and damp. They lead me through more hallways identical to the one above. It is easy to get lost down here in the dark, but I focus on the dark shadow of Ermund in front of me.

Below, from the other end of the hall, I hear an odd cry, like someone in pain. Something heavy hits the ground, the sound echoes all throughout the cramped hall. Rattled, I clench my hands at my side to stop shaking, but it isn't easy. My heart beats like a drum.

We go down and down again until we reach a gate made of iron. I smell blood and sweat from somewhere ahead of me. Then, I hear the soft sound of voices and my heart thunders. Along the stone walls to my right, where the torch light cannot reach, I see a tiny red smear that leads into the darkness.

Before I think on it further, Ermund says, "This is the dungeons, princess. There is an exit here. Walk down and turn right and keep walking. No one will be there now but you must be careful." Ermund takes my shoulders and squeezes lightly. I swallow nervously.

"No matter what you hear or what you see, you must keep walking. Walk until you see a wooden door, that is the warden's quarters. In there you will find a bundle of keys, it should be in his desk drawers, once you do, you must run back here and Yhana will guide you out." He trembles slightly.

"What about you?" I ask softly. But, it is needless as I see the purpose and devastation in his eyes. My heart breaks once more.

"You must live for more," Is all he says before he runs up the stairs. A sob escapes me as Yhana pushes me through the door to the dungeons.

"I will be your eyes, princess, hurry!" She urges and I run, tears spilling down my cheeks. I shove past the gate and down a dimly lit corridor. It is long and cramped, lined with hundreds of metal doors with small barred windows at the centre. The smell of faeces, blood and mould hangs heavy in the air. It is putrid and wrong. I hold my breath. I never knew a place like this could exist right below my feet. How naive had I been?

I hear distant coughs and the shuffling of garments, but I do not look at the doors. I do not do anything except run. My heart beats like a bird trapped in a cage. Ahead, I see a wide alcove. The walls are higher, with two lit torches at the side of the door. I let out a breath and sprint towards it. But, before I reach the door, I hear alarm bells. The gong rings in the distance, the noise travelling all the way through this dungeon and into my soul, causing shivers to rise; reminding me of the night my father passed.

I do as I am told and ignore everything that I hear. But, it is when I open the doors to the warden's quarters and run inside in a panic that I realise the room is not empty.

Standing behind an opulent oak table at the corner of the room is a thin, lanky man with dull greying hair. When flicks his gaze to me, my heart stops.

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