Tell Me Lies

Chapter Six

A member of the guard appears in the doorway, one of the many I see during the day in the palace. If I recall, he typically works during the day, midafternoon, so it is futile to guess what time of day it is since most of the palace has been on high alert and all the guards must have been pulled from wherever they were to come defend the royal family. If I had to guess though, it would be the very early hours of the morning, perhaps even the witching hour. Thinking about the witching hour makes me shudder against the cool stone wall. As if my day couldn't get any worse, the idea of the supernatural, be it real or superstition, is enough to rattle me once more. 

I steal a glance to Xavier who is staring down the guard ushering everyone out of the saferoom. He motions towards Xavier, not me, to follow him out the door and he obliges. The only ones left in the room would be me and my parents along with another guard member. He motions us to follow him back the way we came, back into the ballroom. 

The ballroom is in an incomprehensible state of disarray. If I didn't know this was the ballroom, I never would have been able to recognize it. Chandeliers lay scattered with broken bits of glass littering the floor. With the light from the moon above and that of the torches the members of the guard are holding it is obvious that most of the windows lining the ceiling of the ballroom have been shattered and are laying in bits on the floor; no longer protecting us from the outside elements. The wallpaper is ripped, blood on the floor, glass catching the light. It looks like a painting. A beautiful, twinkling, horrible mess of a painting. I almost can't believe it is real. Almost. Except for the unmistakable object in the middle of the floor. Lodged so deep in the marble that you can see the stone underneath where it broke away the floor. A rather large harpoon. 

Nobody is standing near the harpoon stuck in the floor. Nobody but my father and the head of the royal guard. I only just realized that they are conversing aggressively, my father very animated and the head of the guard nodding his head and making comments in response. Dazed, I look to my left and notice my mother directing the maids and other members of the staff on what they should clean and remove from the room first, careful they don't remove anything of importance, but enough that people can maneuver the room without being impaled or shredded by glass. 

I look towards my own feel and discover just what state of disarray I am in. My shoes are covered in dust and stained. My dress is ripped and shredded, my hands covered in dust and dirt from the floor. I feel the damp spot around my bottom that definitely came from the safe room. Chairs would have definitely been nice in there. I make a mental note of starting my next project: updating the safe rooms. They don't need to be lavish, just comfortable. Chairs or cots, storage for nonperishable food, perhaps a station for contact outside of the palace. Coming back to reality and coming to terms with what my life is now, I make my way to the ridiculous object sticking out of the floor of the once gorgeous ballroom. 

The harpoon is shiny. Too shiny. It's new. That is the first thing I notice coming up to it. I can see my distorted reflection in it. It is large enough to be taller than me, and I am of average height for a woman, so that puts in perspective how large this thing is. It is, however, rather slender. Slender enough that I can wrap my hand around it and my middle finger and thumb would touch on the other side. Looking towards the arrowhead in the floor, I notice a scrap of fabric. A convenient scrap of fabric. A navy-blue scrap of fabric with very little gold embroidering on it. Where have I seen navy-blue fabric with gold threading on it...

I look to my father and listen to the remainder of the conversation he is having with Tyrion, the head of the royal guard. 

"... In what world do thieves and rebels throw projectile harpoons in the air? Let alone ones this large?" My father bellows. His voice alone can grab the attention of people in all directions. However, anyone can tell he is not mad at anyone in the room, there is no anger behind his voice, just pure fear, fear of the unknown; of things he cannot prevent. 

"Until we can be sure that there are no fingerprints on the harpoon, we can't touch or move it to discover how it was transported. However, based on the scrap of fabric found with the harpoon, and the nature of the harpoon being used, I think it is safe to say there is only one logical explanation at this moment." I see Tyrion's eyes drift past my father and land on me. 

My father sighs heavily, grabs the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "Thank you, Tyrion, you are dismissed. Please alert me at once if fingerprints are found and when we can move this thing out of my floor." Tyrion bows and exits the room swiftly, in search of whoever he can find to speed up the process, I'm sure. "Cirilla." My father turns to look at me finally. I acknowledge him, waiting for him to speak, not even bothering to pretend like I know what is going on anymore. 

"As you can clearly see, not that you could freaking miss it if you tried, there is a harpoon in our floor. Don't as me how it got there, I can't tell you, but judging by the glass on the floor, I would gather that it came from up there." He jabs his head up towards the ceiling. "The scrap of fabric that I saw you admiring is a dead ringer for the flag and emblem of the Blighton kingdom. Which points the blame towards them. Why and what their motive would be isn't exactly clear right now, but since their whale trade is notoriously known through the world, and we were attacked with a fucking harpoon, I would say this directly relates to them. So we are having guards escort that entire menagerie to the cells for the time being for their safety, our safety and until we have any more evidence of what is going on." He looks at me and sighs once more. 

Placing a hand on my shoulder he looks at me in the eyes, "I am sorry it has come to this. I never would have anticipated this happening while we open our home to foreigners. Attacked in our own home. I am so sorry Ciri. I never meant for you to get hurt. We will figure this out tomorrow, okay? Right now, we all need some sleep. I want you to go to bed, and we will talk in the morning." I nod my head in response, not being able to find the right words to say. He kisses me on my forehead and turns to find my mother. She is sitting in one of the few chairs that haven't been totally destroyed in the chaos. He walks up to her and offers his hand. She takes it and they leave the room. I turn back and make my way through the halls to my chambers. 

The halls are eerily empty. No sign of Quinn, Esmarelda, or any other staff. They must have left as soon as they got the chance, or they are busy in other places in the palace. Taking my shoes off halfway up a staircase and carrying them the rest of the way I find my door, nudge it open and toss the shoes in one random corner of my room. I begin to undress myself in the mirror the best I can. The dress comes off relatively easily considering half the material is missing from the night's events. Into the pile on the floor with my shoes it goes. Esmarelda will have a small stroke when she sees the state my clothes are in. However, she is always more concerned about my wellbeing that that of my clothes. She would rather my clothes be shredded if it meant I am alive and well. I love that woman to pieces. She will be very happy and glad to know that I am unharmed in the morning. 

Staring back in the mirror I decided it is finally time to take off the corset. I contort myself into a thousand different positions to untie and remove the remainder of my undergarments. Going back into my closet I decide to ditch the cute lacey nightdresses and throw on a sweatshirt and shorts for the sake of my mental stability. I find the largest sweatshirt I have, throw it on, hood up, shorts on and I climb into bed. I blow out the candle on my nightstand and throw myself under the covers. The sheets are so warm and cozy, and the extra blanket I keep on my bed creates a warm, weighted feeling. It is like I am being hugged from all over. I roll over and make myself comfortable for some well needed sleep when I hear noises from the hall.