My hands were red, raw, and clearly drying from the amount of soap water they had been in contact with for the past five days.
How the hell did I get here? Well, that part is pretty easy to address. So, it began after my daring escape with Cypress.
I was so enthralled with the fact that I had just told the biggest, most scary looking man that I had ever seen in my life no. And I know that that might not be saying much, but up until this point, I had thought that my papá with his chancla was the scariest thing that I had ever seen, so that's saying something. So I was riding this beautiful steed, feeling the wind rush through my hair, and my face had a smile so big I actually got a bug in my mouth. Then... my thighs began cramping, and my ass got extremely sore, and then I remembered... I don't know how to ride a horse.
But I needed to make it seem like riding was nothing but a pastime hobby for me, so I tried to make it seem like nothing was wrong, even though my body was screaming at me.
Finally, we arrived at what seemed to be Cypress's manor, as it seemed that the guards at the front opened the gates almost immediately, and even though it wasn't the castle, I couldn't deny that her mansion looked exquisite. Like those houses that you see off of Sunset Blvd, but even those couldn't compare to the majesty of this.
When we dismounted, Cypress looked behind herself at me, and a look of shock crossed her face before she said, "My Lady, why did you follow me all the way to my home? I thought that you would go to the Malvaine estate."
Her worry and confusion were justified. I, or at least Demetra, a high noble and the only daughter of the Malvaine dukedom, didn't go home to hide from the Prince, and maybe for Cypress and Demetra, that would be the smart thing to do, but I am not Demetra. I am Diana, and I know enough about the "streets" than to go to the one place the cops would come looking. And in this case, Lysander is the "cop" and I am the "robber." I just needed to word it in a way that a Medieval lady would understand.
"Cypress," I started, taking in her shocked look when I remembered her name, "we were the first people to go missing from the castle almost as soon as Lysander found the poison. No matter what we do now, we are the first on his list of suspects just because of that." Her face looked a little pale.
"I believe that it is in your best interest as well as your family's, to go to whatever estate you have in the country and lay low for the next few months. That should be enough to take the suspicion off of you. All I am asking that you do, since it was I who saved your life, is that you offer me food and shelter for the next two days while I plan on what to do to save myself. Can I trust you?"
She looked at me, as if contemplating the very notion of leaving the capital and going far away, then something in her eyes shifted, and she looked at me with an almost glare.
"But you were the one who ordered me to put the nightshade in the Princess's tea cup. I can easily just go to the Prince and tell him that it was you who ordered me to put it in there and save myself and my family. Then we would be treated like heroes and I can still stay in the Capital for the social season."
My god, what is it with women from before and their fucking social seasons?! Like, could this girl be any less dense. Then I remembered that this was a different time for women, and for over centuries, they had been told that if they didn't get a husband, they were giving up on life, so I needed to get the point across in a different way. A way that could refute putting this stupid season over her life.
I looked at her almost as if I were looking at someone I despised, which I didn't have any, but I figured I could at least play the part.
"Are you really so fucking stupid and dense that you would put a season of trying to find a husband over your family's safety?! You do realize that no matter how you try to spin it, you were the one who put the nightshade in Serafelle's cup? Stupid girl! At least I can say that I had no part in it, as you could've acted on your own because you had feelings for the Prince, and felt that you would be better suited to wear the title of Crowned Princess." Her face switched from sure to complete disarray as it sank. I continued.
"Now, unless you would like me to go to the Prince and save myself, and you know whole-heartedly that I can, I suggest that you listen to me one last time, and then... you will never have to see me again. Do we have a deal?"
She took some time to really think about the situation before nodding in defeat. And again, I didn't mean to be harsh nor did I mean what I said. But I wanted to make sure that no matter what, she lived, that way, even if I never saw her again, I could go through the rest of this nightmare knowing I did the right thing. Even if I needed to be a little evil to get it done.
The next couple of days were like a blur and I was sitting in place watching it all happen, even though it wasn't. I was actively dictating the lives of these people and myself. I guess I was playing the role of driver and backseat driver all at once.
Cypress's family, the Bealens, were nice and kind during my stay, even though there was a hint of condescendence in the way they looked at me. But I guess my title had its perks, as they never tried anything to show just how much they hated me. I was given a lavish room to sleep in, something that I would remember very fondly as it would be the last time I ever did sleep in such a room, and when it was time for them and I to go our separate ways, Cypress's mother came to me with a rolled piece of paper and gave it to me.
"Lady Malvaine, my lady-in-waiting asked amongst the staff as you asked, and one of them has a cousin that runs an inn on the outskirts of the Capital. Far enough to stay hidden, but close enough to be in the know about what is happening. This is a letter that I wrote myself to ensure your employment, you can look through it if you'd like." She paused, and then came in for a hug, which shocked me.
"My Lady," she continued in a whisper, "Please be mindful that if it weren't for your wise thinking, my Cypress as well as our whole family, would have been subject to His Highness days ago, but do know this. I never thought highly of you, and for how you have treated and used my daughter, I loathe you entirely. It is only for your awkwardly swift change of heart that I agreed to be this kind. Lest you forget, you are alone now... Daddy cannot save you whilst he doesn't know where you are." She let go of me and completely changed her demeanor. "Have a safe life dear!"
She said it sweetly, but I knew that I was right in which the hug wasn't for anything other than a warning, and rightfully so. This body was horrible to her daughter, and in turn her whole family by putting them all in danger. I knew that. But at least, I saved them. I undid something the story had written in stone. So even though they want me dead, they will never truly be able to kill me, for that is something of honor to these people. They ain't tattle tales once their lives have been saved.
I should remember that for later, I thought as Countess Bealen continued on about how a smaller carriage would take me to the inn just before getting into the much bigger and fancier looking carriage with her family, and clip clopping away to safety. Then I got into my carriage, closed the door, and knocked on the top to assure the driver I was ready to depart.
I read the letter to pass the time, as I was still used to Ubering wherever I wanted, and just like Countess Bealen said, all the letter had it in was recommendations for me to work at the inn called The Bar Maiden.
My two day old sore ass got even more sore due to the carriage and the abrupt back and forth of the bumpy road. But luckily (I'm being very sarcastic here), the ride only lasted about five hours, and I was able to get to the inn without too many issues.
And that is how we ended up here! Any questions? ... Yea? No? I'm just talking to myself? Yea I am? My god what is wrong with me?
"Oi girl," the owner, Braggen, yells at me which breaks my thoughts apart, "there wasn't anything in the letter saying youse a daydreamer! Get back to work!"
Now, Braggen isn't mean, he's just a little rough around the edges. Over the past five days, he gave me a safe room to sleep in with a bed, he helped me exchange the jewelry from Demetra's room into this world's form of currency (which is just gold coins), so I have about a couple hundred thousand in our currency, and as long as I do the work that is needed of me, I get fed 3 square meals a day. So, the only downside to this arrangement is the fact that I have really raw hands among other things.
I have died at least three times since getting into this predicament. Once for not giving some shithead the jewels on my neck... so he gutted me. Twice when I underestimated how strong liquor in this particular day and age was... so I poisoned myself basically. And the third time was when I did hold my liquor better, but I stumbled in front of a very strong carriage, and it split me in two. So, four times in total. I noticed that when I did die, the necklace Hakeem gave me would pulsate as time rewound itself, almost like counting, and then would stop at least two minutes before I made the decision to go down the alleyway and stumbled out of the inn into that carriage, and only moments before I drank more than my fill of 'mead' as Braggen called it. So, I figured that it acted as your average gamer's save system, only that it only really gave me just enough rope to hang myself to see if I would make the same mistake again. So, that'll definitely come in handy.
"Diana! Move yur arse," Braggen yelled at me, making me get back to scrubbing down one of the tables.
"Understood Braggen, I'm sorry," I quickly responded, scrubbing as quickly and neatly as possible.
I told the Bealens to make sure that from now on, I would be known as Diana. Not just because of the fact that it would be different from the name Demetra and doesn't sound as regal, but also, for obvious reasons, if I was going to be starting all over again, I wanted to make sure that I had a name that I recognize as my own. So they made sure that I had subsequent papers to go along with it.
I felt like an outsider, kinda like how my papi felt when he first moved to the U.S. It was one of my favorite stories to hear before bed when I was growing up, and scrubbing all of these tables and floors reminded me of the day when I believed I was too grown for bed time stories.
"Ok Mija," my dad said softly as he sat down on my bed, "what story do you want to hear tonight?"
He and Mom would always take turns telling me stories. Whether about how they grew up, our family's cultures, how they met. And sometimes they would tell me stories of ancient deities and nature, and how as the descendants of powerful chiefs and warriors, we had to make sure that our cultures stayed alive. I would always love story time, making sure to finish my homework and get ready for bed early just so that if I had any questions, there would be enough time for them to give me answers... but after a while, I denied those roots in me because I felt scared that I wouldn't fit in with any of my schoolmates. So I turned my back on them.
"C'mon Dad, don't you think I'm too old for stories," I said in a snarky tone, and I honestly was expecting for my dad to get pissed or really disappointed. Instead, he looked hurt.
"What do you mean you're too old for stories? No one is too old for stories. Not even me," he said, trying to get me to laugh with those funny faces he used to show me. They would always make me laugh, but I didn't laugh that time.
I wish I did.
"Look, papá. They are always the same stories, and they always end the same way. Maybe it's better if you acknowledge that I am growing up, and maybe I don't want to listen to stories like I used to. It's annoying."
He looked truly hurt now, and I could tell that I had clearly done something wrong. I really expected him to now go get his chancleta like he used to... but instead he just sighed, got up and walked to the door without saying a single word. I thought he would leave, but then he paused. He looked back at me, and looked like he was about to cry... and I had never seen my dad cry.
"Cuando necesites estas historias, recuerda pedirle perdón a tus ancestros... pues gracias a ellos es que hoy respiras vida."
When you need these stories, remember to ask forgiveness from your ancestors... because it is because of them that you breathe life today.
Then he left.
After that day, I was never told another bed time story again, nor was I ever told a story from before my time ever again. Anytime that I would try to talk about the stories from before, both of my parents changed the subject, making sure to talk about anything else. Whether that be taking a trip to Six Flags, or talking about Christmas plans which were over six months away.
I wish that I had never been so scared to tell them what was really going on instead of lashing out. Maybe then I could've grown up feeling more confident in myself.
I continued to scrub until I heard the bell jingle behind me and the clunky steps of boots filled the air of the inn. I slowly turned, fearing that this would be a moment where my head goes rolling again.
To my relief, it was just a group of knights coming into the inn, all of them wearing the same silver armor and evergreen caped uniform. Then the one in the front stepped forward while one of the others pulled out a piece of paper from their pouch, went to the nearest wall to the door, and began nailing in what seemed to be a poster with a face on it. The one in front began speaking.
"Hear ye, hear ye! By order of His Highness, Prince Lysander, the Lady Malvaine is to be brought to the castle, and by any means necessary! She was last seen in the castle nigh five days ago. The prize for bringing her in will be 200 silver coins!"
When I heard this, I immediately turned around, fearing that these knights would recognize me. I was also shocked about this news. One because I thought that I would have more time, as I thought that Lysander would completely forget about his side piece since he should be worrying about his Princess, and two because he only valued me at 200 silver coins?!
Really! Silver?! He'd been fucking this body for I'm guessing years, and yet he only wanted it for silver coins and not gold?!
I started fuming, probably because of the fact that I could feel this body getting upset, and immediately after the knights left, it rushed to the poster against my will. I was clearly pissed, even though I didn't think I was pissed in my head, and as I stared deeply into the eyes on the canvas in front of me I felt... hollow.
The woman drawn was confident, elegant, regal, and extremely beautiful. She had her hair done in an intricate way, surrounding her head in a way that made her cold yet domineering eyes look mythical. Everything that I clearly was not, and this body felt that. My vision blurred as Braggen came up behind me while uncalled for tears ran down my cheeks.
"Dem nobles don't even know how to take beauty for what it's worth I tell ya," he scoffed while looking at Demetra's - or my portrait. "I tell ya, that goddess is well worth this 'hole inn!" Then he began laughing his head off, and I could feel this body lose its unhappiness and begin feeling a semblance of joy. Something I think it hasn't felt in a long time.
"Well Braggen, maybe if you offer her your whole inn, she'll marry you," I joked, starting to laugh with him. He began laughing so hard he started choking, before getting his bearings.
"Eh, youse got jokes now missy, dontcha? No, nothing but hard knocks and dirty mops is all I am. She'd be better off being with the Prince than some lower life like me. Hard knocks and dirty mops is all."
I wanted to think that deep down, Braggen knew it was me, that I was the woman in the poster, but that because I was everything this woman was not, and she was everything I was not, he would believe that we could never be one and the same. He walked away after briefly telling me that the windows would need a light scrub and then I could be done for the day, and I thanked him wholeheartedly in my head. She, Demetra, was exhausted, especially since she had never known such work before. So I did what I needed and went upstairs to my room.
The bed was creaky, the walls were extremely thin, and you could clearly hear the fights that were outside. But it was the first time since getting here that I felt at home. That I felt at peace, and even though he didn't look anything like him, Braggen reminded me of my papi, who I really missed and needed.
Hard knocks and dirty mops, huh, I thought before beginning to doze off. Hard knocks and dirty mops I am.