Songbird's Cage

Chapter 3

Lark was perched on the edge of the window seat, staring longingly through the glass. The sun was filtering through the leaves of the trees, casting warm light across the gardens, and a pleasant breeze was toying with a stray lock of her hair. Absently, her fingers traced the rim of her cup. The tea inside had grown cold some time ago, but the potent, bitter liquid took the edge off of her nerves, calmed the shaking of her hands. She hated being trapped inside. Not many people were awake in the castle - the grounds were being lit by the first rays of daylight. Lark closed her eyes, dizzy and nauseous.

A knock at her door made her turn slowly. Dazed, she stood. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror that hung on the wall, and she started. Her pupils were dilated, the pale blue-grey of her eyes nearly swallowed by black. Rubbing her face, she moved across the room, setting her cup down on a low table. Lark stared at the door for a time, her blank stare following the grain of the wood. With a tremendous amount of effort, she lifted her arm, opening the latch. The door swung open. Lark found Rory on the other side, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He had a hand to his ribs, clearly in pain, but as she opened the door, he straightened, quickly masking what she'd seen.

"My lady..." he began, but trailed off as he saw her. She studied him. There were traces of blood on the skin around his nose and knuckles.

"Where were you?" she murmured. There was a hint of accusation in her voice that she couldn't hide. Some part of her believed that if she hadn't been alone, that if only she'd had some friend at the palace, she wouldn't have had to spend the night with a man who she barely knew. Lark blinked slowly.

"I was... detained," Rory said. "I'm sorry."

She nodded, turning away. Stumbling slightly, she moved back into the room.

"Princess Lark," he asked, stepping into her chambers. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I-" Lark broke off. She could still feel Prince Aspen's motions, how detached he'd been. Except for when he had removed her blindfold, he'd never even looked her in the eye. She could see him - his arms near her shoulders, pinning her down, his head tilted to the side with his eyes averted or closed. His long, ebony hair obscuring his face. When he'd finished, he'd laid with her for barely a minute before wordlessly getting up, gathering his clothing, dressing, and silently leaving. The lords and ladies had left, and she'd been left completely and utterly alone. It had marked her second night without sleep.

"I-" she tried again, but her throat tightened. She was lightheaded, barely able to walk. Lark threw a hand out, catching the edge of a table. Heat and then burning pain spread through her stomach.

"Princess Lark?" Rory asked, moving towards her. "Princess Lark!"

"I wish..." she breathed. "I wish you would stop calling me that."

Then the world tilted, and she found the floor rising up to meet her. Rory screamed her name. Her vision darkening, she saw him grab for her cup on the table, raising it to his lips. The moment he drank, he turned his head away, spitting out the dark liquid. Coughing, he slammed it back down, shouting for the soldiers.

"Who gave this to you?" he demanded, holding her as she clung to his arms. "It was poisoned!"

Tears streamed down her face as the pain grew unbearable. Rory screamed for the soldiers again. The door was thrown open and four men entered.

"Get a healer!" he shouted. "She's been poisoned!"

Her vision was almost entirely black now. A bottle was pressed to her mouth, but she could barely swallow, and just coughed up the water.

"Help is coming," Rory soothed, but she could hear the fear in his voice. "Stay with me."

A bead of sweat ran down her neck, and her eyes slid shut. Two days at the palace, and an assassin had already gotten to her.