She's Getting By

Chapter Three

Two weeks had passed in the time it had taken Keeley to cross the mountains and reach Erradore. As she viewed the city's glory in broad daylight, a deep, visceral churn rose to her stomach - a promise that she would not return to her home again.

Three days before, she had began taking the Tarbor leaves that Arran had given her. While the leaves brought about no physical changes, they were supposed to make her smell different to those who wanted to harm her. But, there was always the possibility that Arran had been duped, that someone had given him a look alike.

If this was the case, the king had given Keeley golden flakes to scatter through her hair, to better resemble the people of Erradore. The flakes would mute the smell, but only slightly. Either way, she had to be on guard.

The city of Erradore held undebatable beauty. Large, gold threaded tapestries were hung in the streets by merchants with long beards and amber eyes. Precious stones were embedded along the edges of cobblestone roads, and vibrant tiles lined walls of buildings. To fall in love with the city was as easy for Keeley as falling onto a bed of flowers.

But Keeley had been warned of the other side of Erradore. The side that was crippled by poverty and sickness. The side from which the king found young boys and girls, and promised them food and a bed if they helped him to torture Mystics.

Suddenly the bright lights and shimmering gems were too much and Keeley reeled to the side of the road, hoping to catch her balance again. She schooled her features, struggling to control her powers here, where the city thrummed with such vitality and ease. She felt her soul relax under the sweet waves of happiness rolling off of the passerby.

"Excuse me, miss!" A voice penetrated her thoughts. Staring up at her was a young boy. His chestnut hair glittered and his umber eyes glowed, but his other features were utterly drab. His dirt-stained face and fraying clothes seemed out of place in the extravagant city.

"Can I help you?" Keeley reproachfully chided. An seed of fear that the boy had recognized her began to blossom in her mind.

"Well you see," he began, his fingers fisting the folded papers of parchment he carried, "I can help you!"

Keeley raised an eyebrow. Unless he could deliver the king's newborn baby sister to her, she doubted he'd be much help.

"I have highly sought-after palace secrets!" His eyes were wide as saucers as he pressed the folded parchment towards Keeley. "I can't show them to you right now, but if you offer me a good price, I might be able to give them to you."

While in other circumstances Keeley might have found the young boy charming, her nerves and frazzled state caused her to snap at the boy.

"Get away from me. I'm busy." She grumbled, stalking away. She felt bad, knowing he was probably poor, just trying to make some money. But she had heavier matters weighing on her mind.

She travelled for a few hours before coming to stop at the door of a row house. The walls were painted an eggshell blue, and the roof was a sandy brown, covered by vines edging over the top. Ivy had begun to spread at the base, spreading its roots through the cracks in the wall. Still, the house seemed to fit in with the whimsical charm of the street.

Keeley knocked three times on the small wooden door. She waited patiently, resisting the urge to peak through the window, before the door swung open and she was met with the polite smile of an older woman.

Keeley smiled at the lady, memorizing her grey hair that sparkled with gold, and her knowing brown eyes.

"You must be Valeria!" The woman embraced Keeley, and Keeley was reminded that despite the fact that this woman was Mythic in secret, she might resort to dangerous methods of ransom if she knew that Keeley was the princess. Valeria was a mercenary

"I presume you're Dianna?" Keeley asked as the lady ushered her into the house. The interior matched the outside, with calla lilies lining entire walls in large pots filled with soil, and daylight streaming in from skylights spanning across the high ceiling. Still, Keeley noticed the soil scattered across the floor and the dust accumulating on the various surfaces throughout the house. The walkway was narrow, almost cramped, and the floorboards creaked underneath their feet as they walked. This place did not compare to the palace.

"Call me Dixie!" The old woman called as she guided Keeley up the winding staircase and towards her room. Keeley eyed the steps nervously as they groaned under her weight, while Dixie marched up the stairs with unusual vigor for someone of her age.

Keeley followed Dixie around throughout the day, learning of the different rooms in the house and receiving a thorough warning from Dixie not to ever take off her disguise, even when in the house.

As the sun set over Erradore, Keeley watched as the lights went out, and the city fell into a deep slumber. Unlike other cities, who continued bustling into the late hours of midnight, there were few lanterns to light the city, and almost no one was out. As darkness blanketed the city like a foggy mist, the once shining gold features sparkled no more, the tapestries packed away. Erradore seemed like more of a ghost town than a city.

As Keeley tried to sleep, all she could think of was her task, looming over her like a ghost. Part of her wanted to finish the task and be done with it, but another part of her dreaded the day she would have to venture into the villainous king's castle, to steal something so precious to him as his own blood. She doubted she would be successful. She scolded herself for even agreeing to the idea, in a moment of weakness. Desperation. Still, she could not return now. Her pride was too large for that.

An ember of inspiration was born in her mind, as she fed it with thoughts and kindled it to flame. She would succeed. Redemption. Validation. Vindication. These were the things she had sought after her entire life, and they lay just a short distance from her in a cradle in the castle that sat regally on the hill.

She would accomplish her mission, or she would die trying.