Copyright © 2008 Ava James
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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“Every aspect of my life is mapped out, like the stars beyond.” Priya sighed with discomfort for the thousandth time. Meticulous and ever infuriating, the world she knew brought this upon her. Destiny, they called it.
Basterel dung, the foulest pile of beast excrement imaginable, is what she thought of it.
Maids scurried about in a storm of frenzied activity, a tug here, a poke there. Priya suffered their ministrations daily, and today proved to be more bothersome. Instead of observing the bedlam with her usual humor, she gazed out the open window.
The weather outside seemed to mirror her melancholy mood. A light mist concealed the skies, and not a ray of sun kissed the ground. Heavy, dark clouds blotted out all hope of the light’s escape, much like her current predicament. Only gloom shrouded the mountains and fields beyond her gilded cage.
Wrapped in the finest cloth, garbed in the ceremonial dress of her ancestors, jewels adorned her crowned figure. The garments and jewels were like weights about her body, chains to bind her. She looked down at her hands, and a supreme sense of dread and helplessness settled in her stomach.
“What am I doing?”
Your duty, her conscience chimed in.
The dang, dong, dang of bells called from off in the distant hills, and the hour of her nuptials fast approached. In a flurry of skirts, her maids shuffled out and left her to stand alone, cemented by the weight of her imminent marriage. She thought of nothing and everything.
She recalled the joy she’d once experienced here, a joy she may never feel again. One born of summer days long past, when the only care that furrowed her brow was whether to venture into the orchards or the valley beyond. After tonight, she’d leave this place, never to call it home again.
Lost in her errant thoughts, she wrung her hands. New emotions assaulted her. Anxiety and dread planted themselves heavy in her chest.
“Priya, dess khan diass,” a hissing serpentine voice spoke near her left ear.
A shiver shot up her spine. Instinctively, her gaze rose to the mirror before her. Round, glossy, black, soulless, and cold eyes met her stare. A snakelike head, scaled and perched upon an elongated neck, swayed in her direction.
Scream!
Only her tongue froze behind her tightly clasped lips.
Scream!
Panic surged through her tense body. A reptilian hand, equipped with vicious claws, wrapped about her throat, and a pungent stench rose to fill her nostrils.
All went black.