Christopher would disapprove.
Indeed, attempting to find a coalheart is not the most knowledgeable decision, but the memory of James' threat to burn all I have left of Christopher is what drives me to do this. The baggage of fear in my mind causes my heart and breath to quicken. The only place that might have the flower is the king's palace. Luckily, I work there, or the king would have my head. There are fewer guards than usual. Odd, but the only thing that matters right now is that flower. I walk through the passageway; the air tells me that this place is holy—that I do not belong here. The vines hung on the windows like chandeliers. Beyond the large window was a sun-drenched courtyard that was a leafy sanctuary, creating beauty that opposes what I am feeling. I slammed the door on those thoughts; they are not important right now. Shortly, I was outside the passageway, in the garden, enjoying the wonderful mixture of scents. Ok, the coalheart is a unique heart-shaped rose that is black. It can turn metal into coal in water and kill any plants that dare to live on its land. That flower will be sheltered.
"Good morrow, milady." A deep voice says behind me, and I turn my head in their direction, my heart ready to gallop.
"Identify yourself; why are you in the courtyard of the royal house?" I think my heart is galloping or fluttering; whatever it is, it isn't useful now.
"I am Lady Turner. The Lily of the court invited me to assist with her studies in magic." I curtsied, sweat dripping down my face like it was raining, and I kept my eyes locked with his own. A grin forms on his face.
"Apologies, Miss Turner; you don't look like a magician." He walks into the passageway, and a sigh escapes my lips. I continue to look for the coalheart. Soon I come to the last part I have not checked. My heart quivers like an earthquake. Christopher would not want me doing this, but he'd do it for me. I crouch down and scan every bush in search of that coalheart. I continue, and still nothing. My voice cracked, a plea escaping my lips, a desperate grasp for solace in a bleak and unforgiving world. I force tears to come out, yet my eyes will not yield. I better get moving; no time for crying, right? I struggle to swallow the flame in my heart and the wave of sadness drenching me. I focus on the smell, maybe the sound. Birds sing, trees rustle, and silence lingers. While this happens, I overhear two voices, both male; it sounds like they're whispering.
"He'll get what's coming for him." One of them says,
"That bastard, he treated us like shit; now he's going to pay." The one with a lighter voice whispers. They sound drunk; I should stop listening.
"Avec ça, ce salaud sera sous notre main." Wait. That is French. What are French-speaking people doing here? And why do they speak like knavish villains? Hell. They are drunk. My mind continues to ponder with questions about them; I shall not stop listening.
"Avec l'aide d'un de nous, on pourra l'essayer sur eux." Okay, so they have a tool that can control someone and want to test it out. I continue to get closer. The sound of the roots of some trees breaking echoes in the courtyard. Well, they know someone is here.
"Hello, is somebody there?" I can finally get a better look, and it is clear they aren't British. We do not have dark green hair. We couldn't perform magic effectively if that were the case. Are they visiting?
"Prépare ta magie, nous allons nous salir les mains." Shit. They're going to kill me, and I can't even use magic.
Instinctively, I run, calling for help. I believe the guard hears my pleas and comes to my aid, but before he could reach me, I fell down, and I cannot move. Some type of paralysis spell. They're fast. They even got the guard. Shortly, my eyes close. I'll be with Christopher soon.
It took a moment to regain my senses, and the world sharpened. This place is dark, lit by one candle, but at least it smells better than a basement. Light gets through the gaps in the jail cells, giving me a view of most of the room. There is not much in the room I can use to escape, so I have to force them to come in. Belong long, I hear footsteps that are a rapid tempo and get ready for what is going to happen next.
"Rise and shine." The man with green hair says, Perhaps I should feign ignorance to make them think I'm clueless.
"Where am I?" I twist my face into an expression that makes me appear confused. The response is to just look at me in a way that makes my heart race.
"What is my purpose here? Just so you know, I'm pals with the princess, and she'll have you dead."
"Oh, cut the crap; you know exactly why you are here." The man shouts, his face redder than the wine served at the castle. He is a walking fur coat and built like a brick. Odd duo: the green-haired one who looks like a vine. I'd rather not make the 'bear' upset, even though he's shorter than me.
"Because of you and your British ways, we can't execute our plan." Bear exclaims, his nostrils thinning. Vine whispers something to Bear, something that makes some of the red on his face disappear.
"Lucky for you, you may be useful." Vine says, smirking like I am a delicious cake.
"You said you are friends with the princess, correct?" Vine inquires, eyes fastened in my direction.
"How about you do us a favor and give this to her?" Bear is holding a necklace in his hand; it is a marvelous purple, but why would I make her their puppet? Although we are not friends, she respects me.
"I'd never help the French," I say with a wide smirk spread across my face.
"Oh well, it was fun while it lasted." Vine casts a spell that makes someone appear in the room. Wait, isn't that the guard from the yard? What is he doing here? Shit. He has the necklace on his neck.
"Wake up." Bear says. His eyes are open, his skin is so pale, and he is sweating liters.
"What am I doing?" He says, his voice laced with fear and instability.
"You are going to kill that fair lady," Vine points… at me. Oh god, they're going to kill me! What am I supposed to do? I can't—no, I can't die like this! Is this really how I'm going to go? Am I actually going to meet Christopher like this?
"No," the guard says. Wait, he has some control. Why is that? I'm not dying!
"I order you to take the gun in François's pocket and kill her!" Vine exclaims. A moment later, the guard stands up shakily, takes the gun, and gets it ready. The prospect of rebirth brought only a hollow ache, a bitter taste of unending vengeance. I believe he pulled the trigger because I cannot hear. And it's getting cold. At least I'll be with Christopher.
Why is there so much noise? Wait, I'm dead, so why can I hear noise? Why do I feel like I'm being pushed out of something—or someone? Wait, am I a baby? I think God heard my prayers. Before I know it, I'm out of my mother and into the real world. I can't see anything clearly, but I get to live again. Wait, why is someone's voice so familiar? Is it that bitch, Francois? Wow, my life is going to be a wild ride.