Chapter three

Chapter three

A Chapter by Lyric

Kinta licks over her lips as her sister pulls the key from the door.
What can she do? What can she do besides sit here and wait to be killed? Lost for thought and words she sits still, she'd ask for it to be a dream but she stopped doing that years ago.
It is not a dream, it is her reality.
She will die, it's been set up already. She has given up being angry because being angry only makes Synt angry, and when Synt is angry everyone is in danger of ending the way she will. What is the use of feelings if what you feel is not noticed?
Nothing, so, she stopped feeling.
All it ever does is and fuel to the flame.
She bites her lip,
"Do not give up on me." She said, but she let go quickly, shaking her head.
The moon shines on the velvet curtains, washing over them with fluorescent light as they move and dance with the wind. Like spirits. They flow like spirits.
She smells the air, breathing in the smell of the forest pine trees.
Pine trees, even with all the memories attached to them, all the images glued to her brain that she'd do anything to get rid of, they are still her favorite.
Because, they were her parents favorite.
She walks over to the windows and pushes her hands to the side of the wall, enjoying the smell.
Her world has become something else, something she can't explain.
Because her world is not the same as when her parents ruled, but the villages do not live her life.
They just don't and blessed not to, she thinks as she presses her nose against the cold, smooth glass.
The world almost mocks her, because nothing could be more normal. Sala is fine. Sala is going well. It was not Sala, it was her that was not okay.
They all go on about their business as if nothing has changed, if only they knew the half of it.
Grinding her teeth she watches a carriage drive through the castle walls and what ever little hope she had that her sister had been blushing dies.
Heart beating through her skin, she let's go of the windows and her arms grow limp beside her. No one comes through those doors, who else could it be?
What does her being dead do for anyone except add on to the suspicions that soo many already have?
If not anything her sister is not bright. Yet she's done all if this?
The key begins to turn again in the door, slowly and her ears perk up at the grinding it makes, her body tighting.
"Keep the hearts or leave them," said her sister as she struts in, grin across her face.
"But either way they are here for you."
Her sister makes an over the top gesture with her hands, almost comedic put next to the situation and a women steps in, bowing her head and Syntia.
Images come flying back to her as she squints and blinks at the woman, pictures of a bloody knife, and a large room and a young maid with black hair.
"Geno. "
Said Kinta, her voice full of hate, not a question but a statement. She knew exactly who the woman was. And it wasn't even that she was all that recognizable, she was an average woman. But her face rung so clear.
It had been so long but Kinta has learned her face. Memorized it and it will be forever locked in her conscience.
How could she forget the woman who destroyed her?
She doesn't speak up at her sister, and she doesn't rebel, or disobey her but now she bites her cheek to stay quite.
A girl her age comes out from behind Genova, red hair and blue eyes that remind her of ice.
She nods to Kinta timidly, not making eye contact and then addresses Genova.
"Everything is ready." She said.
"Kinta strains her ears to over hear what's being said as the young girl switches glances between yer and Genova as if she can't decide.
Is she going to help them kill her? But why would such a young girl no older than her agree to help kill the princess who is said to already be dead? She'd have to be insane. She'd have to be more than that.
Kinta studied the girl, looking her over, she wore decent clothes, so she was not a peasant but she wasn't a noble either.
And the way she spoke told her that she was at least somewhat educated.
Kinta's eyebrows move together as Syntia joins their conversation, as if she's not here listen.
Parents. She hears, and something about rocks. The mountains? Are they going to throw her off a mountain?
No, too dangerous. I miner could so easily come across her body. She releases the thought from her mind, pushing a strand of hair from her face as she stares at her bare feet.
"Princess." The girl said. "Come with me. "
The girls voice was stern, but quiet. And her face can't decide whether it's angry or not, switching from frowns to a thin line made with her lips.
Kinta's eyes widen, maybe she doesn't want to do it.
The princess leaves it at that, wanting and needing to believe that this girl could save her.
She doesn't move, but jumps back at her words, wanting to act as if she truly believes she's going to kill her.
But was she really sure? It had all been so calm until the time actually came for her to go. Now everything was an, a what if or what if not?
Retaining herself, Kinta raises a bronzed hand to tell her to stay off of her.
"No. I won't let you kill me like you did to my parents. "
The scene plays in her head for the one hundredth time, the blood, and the stench, and the way she'd wished she were still living on the streets by herself, because it was a million times better than facing what haply happened.
Kinta moves back, running into the wall, was she really going to let them kill her? She would die either way so it never mattered what she felt about it. She would die, but she would not let them kill her.
Not that easily.
"What point is there to your life if I don't need you Kintaly? " She asked, playing with her gold dangling earrings. Earrings she stole from their mother the day she died.
Kinta winces at her question, did she mean nothing to her? At all? Her own sister and she made it seem like it was a crime to want to receive care and love from her.
The redheaded girl taps on her knee, creating a rythm and Kinta stares at her hand, what is she doing?
The girl stops once she's caught her attention, the women back to talking she mouths.
"Come, I am a friend."
The fear seems to have gone from the girls blue eyes, and as Kinta nods she smiles, knowing that she understood.
The scared look overcomes her again as she said, "come, princess. "
In the same lifeless voice.
Kinta stops, walking up to the table she takes the small box in her hands, feeling the wood around her fingers.
"I'll take the hearts." She says with a hint of disgust, walks to the girl who smiles once more before taking hold of her neck and steering her out of the room.

They walk down the corridor and into the main hall followed by Genova and Syntia.
Kinta walks with her head down, this could so easily be a trap, who would risk her sisters hate and wrath? No one. Not for her. Not for a dead princess anyway.
They walk farther down the hall until they reach the Y shaped turn off halls and exit out the back door.
Said Syntia, she tried to push on her back but the girl leaps forward, keeping well in front of her.
Cold air and pine fills her nose as they walk briskly out of the palace gates, and they are surrounded by night .
They trees blow, threatening to fall at any given moment as they sway over her.
Where are they going? And how will they do it?
She cringes at the thought, her teeth chattering together ft both chill and fear.
Maybe she was right and the girl lied, why else would they bring her to the forest?
Maybe to kill her now and be done with it?
"Take care of it." Said Syntia, hands folded behind her back
She nods to Genova and the older woman grips Kinta's colar and pushes the young girl aside. The woman gerks Kinta and then slaps her cheek in a mock affectionate way as she replied with a nasty, half grin,
"She will be as gone as your parents, my queen."
With an overly low bow and a nod and toothy smile from her sister the two lead her off into the forest, with pine filling her nose and hope in this girl filling her mind and sore heart.

© 2015 Lyric

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Added on April 30, 2015
Last Updated on May 1, 2015
Tags: fantasy, chapter, book, fear, hope



Newark, NJ

Hi, I love to write and I'd just really like some feed back on all of my stuff, and I love to read other poets'/writers' work more..

The poet The poet

A Poem by Lyric