Celeste's life is far from the enchanting fairy tale one might expect from a princess. Her father, a ruthless and self-absorbed king, leaves a trail of death and destruction in his wake. To seal alliances and maintain his power, he arranges for Cele...
As soon as I walk into the kitchen, Alisha catches my eye. She has already cleared the table and is washing dishes. Novak is nowhere to be seen. I try to move to the coat rack as carefully as possible, hoping Alisha doesn't hear my footsteps. I grab my cloak from the hook and slap it on. Unfortunately, Alisha's magic has also increased with the months.
'Where are you going?' she asks without looking up. With my lip between my teeth, I start tying the knots
'The village,' I reply. Alisha turns and looks at me with raised eyebrows. This is the first time since we have been here that I will leave the house outside the garden.
'Are you serious?' she asks in a tone that speaks volumes. Her eyes have that sparkle back, that sparkle of hope. I appreciate her hope, but it is unnecessary.
'Yes,' is the last thing I reply before walking out of the house. I pull the door shut behind me and start walking along the forest path. The morning chill scratches against my face. I wrap the cloak tighter around me as I occasionally sink my heel into the soft ground. It is that Novak once explained how to get to the village that I know where to go.
The leaves lie here and there on the paths, the flowers are beginning to overwinter and the weather is already getting slightly darker. Summer is over, autumn is making its appearance. I have always had mixed feelings about autumn. It is the time when the warmth and freedom of the outdoors leave us. It is the time when diseases flare up, hunger and darkness. People hold their hearts for the cold that will come. The weak will die. This is how it has always been and how it will remain. It is the gods' way of keeping the balance.
The closer I get to the village, the more houses there are in the forest. The forest path turns into a stone path. The trees become less present. I expect to find a small and quiet village with a human walking the streets here and there. Novak told me about the silence and that was no understatement.
I walk through three streets without seeing a living soul. All the doors and windows are shut tight, some even covered with wooden beams. As soon as I walk past one of the many stone houses, I pause. At first glance, it is the same house as all the others. A small stone house, a wooden door, a small window with wooden frames and everything is just a little crooked. However, the house I am standing in front of also has a blue cross painted on the door and in the middle of the cross hangs a drawing of my face.
Before I can realise what I am seeing, I am grabbed by my arm and pulled into an alley. I look straight into two pale green eyes with my back against a clammy wall and a hand against my mouth. I want to scold the person in front of me and push him away, but his action does not seem without reason.
Outside the alley, on the main path, a cart on horseback races by with dozens of corpses. The rickety wooden thing creaks as if it might burst through its wheels at any moment. The horse's hooves echo against the stone path. They have not bothered to cover the corpses with a cloth, something they had better do. The blue liquid running from the noses, mouths and eyes of the corpses is highly infectious. The man walking beside the horse has only a white cloth tied in front of his mouth, something that will not help him.
As the cart passes, I look at the person in front of me. The white-haired boy removes his hand from my mouth, but gestures me to be quiet. The two emerald eyes look deeply at me for a moment before he continues walking down the alley. The rich-looking white suit he is wearing fits him like a glove. Surely his choice of clothing is striking in the not too affluent village.
I also know it is foolish to go with strangers, but still the boy manages to convince me with that one look.
We walk out of the narrow alley and turn a corner. The boy opens the door of one of the better-looking houses before stepping inside. Doubtingly, I follow the boy inside and close the door. Immediately I step into the living room which, despite the lack of space, is full of stuff. He owns money and lots of it. Although not everything is equally new or well maintained, the stuff is expensive. There are expensive paintings of the sea hanging on the wall, his suit is studded with silver stones and he wears a pearl necklace.
'What are you doing here?' is the first thing the strange boy says to me. He walks over to the big brown-green chair standing in the corner of the room and sits on it. He grabs the half-smoked cigarette lying in the ashtray on the banister, lights it with a match and takes a puff. Before answering, I let my gaze wander through the house. His furnishings consist of glass bottles with all kinds of coloured contents and paintings. In the centre of the room is a brown-green sofa and a wooden table full of herbs and shells.
'Are you going to answer?' he asks gruffly. I look up, folding my arms.
'Buy tobacco,' I reply simply before my eye catches a small portrait on the mantelpiece. The white-blonde girl who is no older than four is pictured smiling on it. She has the same green eyes as the boy, which immediately answers many of my questions.
'I really wonder how you can still be alive,' he says sighing as he gets up from the chair. With raised eyebrows, I follow the boy with my eyes. He walks, cigarette between his lips, to the wooden cupboard standing in the right corner of the room, pulls open a drawer and less than a second later throws a brown bag in my direction.
'What do you mean by that?' I ask as I open the bag. Tobacco, at least enough for ten cigarettes.
'Come along,' he instructs me as he looks briefly into my eyes again. There is something about that look and the slow voice that makes me do exactly what he says. We walk out of the living room, up a creaky staircase and directly into a bedroom. I remain still in the doorway, staring at the messy double bed. I realise all too well that I am alone with this boy in a house where no one will find me. However, the boy does not seem to be paying attention to the bed, he stands at the window.
'I'm not going to rape you,' he says before coming to a halt in front of the window. Doubtful, I walk towards him. It doesn't take long to see what he wants to show me. Just at the edge of the forest, a hole the size of six carts has been dug into the ground. The corpse cart that rattled through the street a moment ago stands next to the hole. A group of four men, their mouths covered with nothing more than a cloth, throw the corpses into the hole. They are not the first corpses to fill the hole; dozens more are already lying there.
'Are you smart enough to understand what they died of?' the boy asks mockingly.
'Riosis,' I answer without hesitation. All the symptoms lead to the same thing. Though I did not see it with my own eyes before, no others disease is so contagious and causes that blue liquid.
'Bravo! Since three days, half the village has died and there is only one person who is held responsible for that, you.' I watch as yet another corpse of a young woman is thrown into the hole. Her dress is covered in blue stains, coming from her mouth.
'Why me?', I ask without looking up.
'The king sent two infected guards to the village. Before choking on their own blood, they handed over a letter saying that we owed the visit to you. It was also kindly mentioned that we had to deliver you or they are going to send more.' The boy takes the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it out to me. Without hesitation, I grab the thing and take a drag. It is heavier tobacco than I had.
I should have known my father wasn't going to stop there. The man is doing everything he can to get his hands on me and since he can't manage it himself he is going to let others do the dirty work. The only thing that is not right is how he knows I am here. No guard has been spotted in the last few weeks and I have not left the house. There is no way the man has seen me. I sigh deeply before handing the cigarette back to the boy.
'So now the whole village wants me dead,' I conclude without thinking about it too long. 'They are not the first to want me dead, nor will they be the last.
'You could say that yes.'
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