I didn’t fly all this way without some sort of plan.
There is a secret safe in a room that no one, baring the immediate ruling royal family, knows about. It’s the perfect spot to hide some secret incriminating documents. And I know that Castovias know about it—I’m the only one who knows. Because of my mistake everyone died.
Everyone except me, the only person who actually deserves it—the one at fault.
Now that I’m back I plan on rectifying my mistake completely. So, I need to get in and out of the secret safe room undetected, find proof of the Castovias betrayal, and give it to the underground, or Samuel, so they can use it to destroy the Castovias and put Anna on the throne, where she belongs.
Simple, right?
We leave in the evening without seeing Aunt Mari, Anna or Samuel again and head back to the hotel to get some sleep. I would have liked to see them again, but I know it's for the best. It's safer this way; the closer people get to me the more dangerous it is for them. I’m not someone they should associate with anyway, not anymore.
My plan is to work in the shadows, in the background and then disappear without a word, no one the wiser. The perfect simple plan. No need to complicate things by bringing a dead princess back to life, half broken and twisted—better they remember me as I was. The sweet little princess, trusting, kind, fresh-faced, whole and dead.
That evening I wait until eleven before I make my move. It doesn’t seem like Julian is on watch, and why should he be? We’ve just learned, after all, that there is absolutely nothing I can do until we find some evidence of the Castovias betrayal—and there’s no way of finding that either.
I have no logical move I can make, no reason for me to try and sneak out again—especially when he ‘caught’ me last night. I should be all clear.
Even though, I stay cautious and on my guard. I exit smoothly; quick and quiet—no need to take any extra chances.
Like the night before I traverse the rooftops and head towards the palace—all lit up and looking so regal and pure. You’d never know that just beneath the surface there is a cesspit of lies, deception, manipulation and treachery—a pretty façade for such a vile establishment.
And right below it, buried deep down are the dungeons, the place where war criminals and traitors were locked away to await their executions—but that was a long time ago. Of course, nowadays they are never used; it’s too inhumane to actually keep anyone down there.
They are deserted, down there, there are cells and tunnels no one has seen in years, maybe even decades. Even when I lived there, I never went down--no one did. They were too scary even for a curious child to explore.
Except for one hellish week when a dark, dank, rotten cell was my home; as well as the place where my parents met their end. Where the king and queen, my Mother and Father, were killed by the man with the dragon tattoo.
Getting this close to the palace, seeing it again, is sending my brain down a bad path. It’s bringing back scary, painful memories—memories that I had hid, sealed in a box deep down, so as not to break me completely.
Inside those glittering walls I had everything, love, hope, a family, and under those grounds was where all that was taken from me. The scars covering my body twinge painfully. This, I know, is mental--my scars healed long ago.
The scars in my mind though, never did, those are still as fresh as when they were made. The memories I hid are rushing back into my mind, breaking it again, one melting into the other.
The screaming; my parents screams as they died--my screams as I was tortured.
My head drops into my hands and I press my hands over my ears in a futile effort to block out the noise. The sound of blood hitting the ground, metal splitting flesh, my flesh, ripping—tearing.
I fall to my knees, my body trembling. The echoing sound of two lone gunshots split the air, then silence--broken only by my screams and cries. Metal digging into my wrists, my ankles.
It’s too much, too fast. It’s overwhelming me, cracking my defences, pushing through my walls trying to rip me apart—break me open. It’s devastating, I can’t stop it.
ToomuchtoomuchTOOMUCH!!!!
I hear something through the confusion in my head, a voice, intruding into my memories faintly. I can’t see; images keep flashing through my head. Someone’s coming but I can’t do anything.
I’m defenceless.
I am my own worst enemy, I’ve already defeated myself, all they have to do is come and finish it.
The voice is louder now, insistent, calling, . . . . . . . concerned? A gentle touch on my shoulder, warmth invading my body, driving out the cold.
I try to pull away; I don’t deserve warmth—not anymore. But its unrelenting; it gathers round me, wraps around me like a blanket, . . . is it a blanket? I can’t tell, can’t feel anything—I’m too far gone. Lost in my mind.
The voice is still there, steady, reassuring, strong; it feels strange to have that directed at me, it’s been so long since I’ve heard a voice like this—not since my parents.
Mum.
Dad.
Voices. Screams. Bullets flying. Blood everywhere. Dead. Dead. Dead. They’re all dead. Everyone. I wish I was too. It’d be quieter.
I can feel myself drifting, losing consciousness—I’m overloaded and about to crash. Arms go around my legs, back, gathering me into them, picking me up and holding me close. The voice is still going, steady, calm—peaceful. And I’m warm, so warm.
I make out words before I pass out, but they just confuse me further.
“You’re safe now, Raven. You’re safe. . . . .“
I wake up with a start and stare around wide-eyed, my last memory is of being caught by someone. Who? They said my name. Who knows my name? Amora? The Castovias?
I look around the room, I’m in a soft bed and the window is open letting in fresh air and sunlight, giving everything a golden glow. No way it’s the Castovias; there are no chains on me or bars on the window.
The sun’s streaming in through the window, it looks to be about midmorning—I must have slept clear through the night. I haven’t slept in since, well, since before. I stop my mind from wondering, first things first, I need to figure out exactly where I am and who found me last night.
I inspect the room I am in thoroughly--it’s pretty basic, in fact, it looks a heck of a lot like the room I’m staying in at the hotel. . . . . Wait a second, could it be the same hotel??
I was pretty distracted last night, my mind was quite busy, maybe I didn’t notice him following me? But still, that means he’s got some decent skills to stay under my radar, even when I’m not my best. I’m paranoid. I always know when someone’s following me.
Just who the heck is he really!? Not the simple Aussie boy he pretends, that’s for sure. As if he knew I was thinking about him, the door to the room opens and Julian walks in.
“So, you’re finally up, huh?” he says jauntily, “Did you have a good sleep?”
My eyes narrow at his flippant tone, I cast my mind back to last night. Just how much did I give away—what does he have on me? It must be something good to make him so cocky this morning.
He watches me silently, leaning casually against the wall, his smile still in place. Apparently, he’s not bothered by the fact I completely ignored his greeting.
I give up trying to remember what I said or did during the panic attack last night, its only bring back the feelings and. . . . . . That monster can never escape the cage I put it in, not again.
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