The Raven Girl

Chapter 21

Carefully, Asta pulled her skirts around her ankles, far too aware of the intensity of Rickard's gaze. It could not miss a single thing, however fickle, however small, and just the idea of him scrutinizing her was more than she could bear at that moment, perhaps even ever again.

There had been a time when she could have taken it, absorbed every judging look and glance without a second thought, but her armour had been shattered. The beautiful, silver chest plate, the glistening chainmail, the helmet that had kept her thoughts encased within her so faithfully: all broken with the deadly verdict of the King. Now, she went unprotected, charging into a battle she knew she could not win, arrows flying at her like cats to mice.

How she would have loved to, just once, have felt safe, but she knew no blacksmith who could fix her armour or craft a sword strong enough to keep them away. So, she stayed, shrinking away like a cowardly dog, on the verge of a battle she could never participate in.

Suddenly, she remembered; touching her lips, she found her mouth had fallen in her worried thoughts. To rectify this, she smiled, quickly, in what she hoped was a grateful sense, but she could feel the looseness it held on her face and she could see her hands in front of her shake. All in all, she knew she was not fooling anybody, let alone Rickard.

Had she not learnt by now? Surely, considering all her life she had been watched in some way, every action, every movement dissected and analysed until they found a mistake, she should have been able to hold a simple smile. However, it appeared this was not the case. To cover this slip up, or at least distract from it, she continued to nibble away at the bread, far softer than she was used to.

Soon though, it was gone- mere crumbs that stuck to the palm of her hands- and she glanced about the barren room, avoiding any possible eye contact. She brushed the flour off her fingers in as subtle manner as she could manage all the while, careful not to wipe the remnants onto her rather derogatory dress. She was sure of nothing anymore, and everything she once gave no thought over became a hopeless dilemma she could neither escape nor solve. It was exhausting.

"I must finish the work, my lord." Asta stuttered, unsure as to what to call him. Her words broke the eerie silence that lingered there, sounding odd and out of place, an echo, come from nowhere, creeping down a corridor.

"Of course," he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. Reluctantly, she held out a trembling arm to take it, scared that he would pull too hard and make her fall or simply just hurt her again, but she knew that she could not refuse. However, as soon as she had rested her blistered fingers on his own, she found, to her surprise, that instead of pulling her to her feet, he did in fact sit down beside her. "But there is time enough for that later. I will hear of your life before the one my brother has so forcefully decided upon, and you in return may take a sip from the ale I have taken for you."

"What?" Asta whispered, confused as to why he was now sitting at her level, as if he were saying, without words, that they were equal. Of course, though, he was not- he would never. "I really must finish... he may come back and if I haven't-"

"Who will come back? The cook? He would not. No, I expect that he is either eating or sleeping or, perhaps, drinking." He chuckled silently, "Besides, what could he do? I am here, and I ask that you tell me your story."

"Do you not consider me beyond the capability of having a story?" she replied, the spite she kept so obviously detectable in her tone of voice, silent tears that she had collected trickling down her cheeks like a faulty bucket, rain more like hail that punctured the wood and fell through the holes. "To you and your King, I am my grandfather. I have come here, away from a family who seem to bear a similar hatred for me, to seek freedom, yet I was greeted by threat and pain. I am not my grandfather! I never could choose what side I wanted to join, but you seem to think that somehow, I had."