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Sparkling drops of dew quivered and fell, glittering, as the leather-soled foot flattened the area of emerald blades. Silver mist lay over the lush glade like a film of dust on an archaic tome. As the soft, worn shoe lifted to crush another miniature forest, a long, wavering note, low and mournful, reverberated through the pre-dawn peace. The foot paused mid-step, hovering in the air like a hummingbird's wing, listening as the last echo faded into silence.
Almost at once, a large mass of intertwined vines stronger than rope tumbled down and trapped the fleeing escapee, who thrashed around like a fish out of water, trying in vain for release from the entangling net. A series of loud footsteps were enough to pause the struggling fugitive mid-thrash as the shady silhouette of a tall, lean body towered over the cowering captive. A leering mouth filled with pearly white teeth was the last sight before everything went black.
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Shadows. Stone. Seeping coldness. Shackles cutting into scarred wrists and ankles. Skittering rats with glowing red eyes hungry for the taste of rot.Eyes, covered a moment before by thin, pale curtains with dark tassels, snapped open to reveal irises the color of violets in springtime with the barest hint of sea foam green. A pink tongue ventured out to appease the cracked, dry lips that once were ruby red with its temporary balm. Long tresses of chestnut-brown hair hung limply to the prisoner's shoulders. Pinned against the unfeeling stone of the cell, the fair prisoner seemed to do nothing but hang limply from the rusted chains secured to the solid wall.
In such a way many a day passed, but whether it had been a minute, an hour, a day, a week, it did not matter to the darkly clad prisoner. Her leather belt had been deprived of its simple dagger and now hung with an unfamiliar lightness. She did her best to ignore all the unpleasant memories that the cell had clawing at her wall of indifference.
And so an eternity passed.
A sliver of light, no wider than a needle, pierced the thick darkness of the gloom. The prisoner didn't so much as stir. Soft footsteps, barely discernible above the echoing skitters of vermin, slowly and deliberately approached the cell. All at once everything became silent. It was as if all the world had stopped turning. The hostage still did not so much as raise her head. A tall figure, thin and lethal, leered down at the chained captive.
"So you have deigned to return. I must say that I am rather glad of it; everything seemed... incomplete without your presence here. I hope you have found your room accommodating. We do try to make everything as comfortable as possible here, as you know."
The speaker allowed himself a small chuckle, a sound that dripped with irony.
"Now then," the voice turned cold and sharp, "we must discuss your fate. I was not pleased when we found you were gone. Your incompetent guard has been done away with and a newer, far more able guard has taken his place. Many events have transpired since your leaving, Miss Violet. You shall find that I will not be so lenient the next time you step out of line."
Violet kept her head down, giving no indication that she had heard or comprehended the thin speaker's words.
There was a snap, and a large, burly man with a goatee appeared next to the thin man.
"Show Miss Violet to her new room. Allow her an hour to freshen up, then send Birdie in to bring her to the throne room."
The large man nodded, loosened Violet from her fetters, and took her limp body by the arm to gruffly lead her through a complex maze of hallways, doors, chambers, and staircases. Violet knew she ought to at least try to memorize the twists and turns the guard led her through, but the exhaustion and fatigue from her escape and recapture had taken their toll on her physically and mentally. As it was, the servants changed the adornments on the walls so often that it had taken her several weeks before she had memorized all the corridors when she had previously escaped, information that had flown out of her head when the net had fallen over her face.
The guard stopped abruptly, causing Violet to trip over her own two feet. She would have fallen on the cold stone if not for the firm grip the soldier's meaty hands had on her arm. She looked up to see a mahogany door that seemed to radiate familiarity. She knew where she was immediately. Her old room, her old prison.
As the door opened and Violet was roughly shoved into the small tower room, she recognized the satin sheets, the only slightly worn rugs, the smooth oak wardrobe. The curtains were the same gossamer blue, a stark contrast to the general air of foreboding. Indeed, Violet would have been easily tricked into thinking that Sir Ryan had lied concerning her quarters, if not for a single detail that was not immediately noticed, but made all the difference.
"Your clothes are in the wardrobe. There is soap and hot water in the bathing chamber. Birdie will be here in one hour."
The guard's voice was deep, like rumbling thunder, but not all that threatening in its tone. In fact, the bulky man seemed to retain a bit of sympathy in his eyes for her current situation, and perhaps a touch of sorrow in his voice. This surprised Violet. When last she had been an almost permanent guest here, nearly all of the servants and guards had treated her with an air of indifference, as if afraid to connect with her or form any kind of relationship with a dressed-up captive of their master's. But this guard... he was different. Right then she resolved to discover as much as she could about him.
Violet nodded, then turned away as she heard the door close quietly behind her. Now she could have a better look at her surroundings. Everything seemed untouched, exactly the way she'd left it- except for the curtains.
When she had left before, she had made sure that the thick gossamer curtains were closed all the way. Now, however, they were about an inch apart. Cautiously, Violet approached the sky blue hangings, expecting the same view of the southern hills as before. When she drew them back, though, she beheld a very different sight.
Over the horizon, there could be soon a faint hint of pink, tinged with gold. Reflected across this occurrence was a lake, still and calm as if nothing terrible had happened. It was when the golden orb burst forth from the jagged mountains that had been its protection that it hit her.
She was in the East Tower.
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