Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Seven

It was late the same evening when Cressida heard a knock on the door.

She was in the drawing room of the Sapphire suite, sitting at the dining table with a dip pen in hand, an open bottle of black ink, and far too many thoughts to write down.

Cressida straightened at the sound, lifting her eyes from the paper. The page was half filled with one meandering block of text in a cursive scrawl.

"One moment," she called, setting the dip pen down on its tray, and rising to her feet.

It had been an hour or so since a lavish dinner with Callidus, which she was still uncomfortably stuffed from. She hadn't had much of an appetite to begin with, but he practically insisted she try everything. His eager-to-please eyes were hard to turn down, especially since he had brought the paper and ink she had requested.

When Cressida reached the door, she paused, hand hovering above the brass handle.

"...Who is it?" she asked, wondering whether Callidus had returned to insist she have dessert after all.

Instead of hearing his soft viola-like voice like she had expected, she heard someone clearing their throat in a high-pitched squeak.

"...It's ah...I'm..."

The voice was breathy, and brittle. Cressida could hardly hear it through the door. There was silence until they cleared their throat again in that same high-pitched sound.

"I'm here to help you ready yourself for bed, your highness." they finally said, delivering their message in a more confident manner.

Cressida moved to turn the handle of the door, but it stayed rigid in place.

Ah.

Cressida had forgotten that the door was locked from the outside. It was easy to forget that she was incarcerated, given her surroundings were so beautiful.

Just yesterday she was free to go anywhere she wanted.

So much could change in a day.

"Don't you have a key?" Cressida asked, her voice coming out ruder than intended.

There was silence.

"I...am unable to let you in." Cressida added, to soften her tone.

"I...oh." The person stumbled through their words, "I do, your highness."

There was the sound of fumbling metal before Cressida heard the noise of a key being inserted into a lock.

Cressida took a step back as the door opened, revealing a young Ashlarian woman wiping her hands nervously on her apron.

The woman ducked her head in a quick curtsy, and her black downy curls which were styled in a free flowing updo moved in a way that reminded Cressida of dandelion fluff in the wind.

"My name is Mint, your highness." she said, head facing the floor.

"Pleased to meet you." Cressida responded instinctively, eyes peering over Mint's shoulder towards the doorway.

No guards were stationed outside the door.

The view of the outside hallway sent a brief thrill through her. How hard would it be, truly, to push past this delicate-looking woman and make a run for it?

The door closed, and with it, that train of thought.

The young woman went to insert a small metal key into the door but dropped it onto the carpet. She made a mouselike noise and ducked down to pick it up while Cressida resisted the monstrous temptation to grab it from her.