Yeara's legs moved back a bit as her body shook slightly. Her eyes remained wide. The place, just walls like the door she had seen and entered last night..was nothing but a fragment of her imagination.
Goosebumps crawled through her skin as she turned, shutting the door as if she were being chased by a predator. She sprinted, her feet tapping against the now-dried ground—a quiet contrast to last night's moistness.
The sun beat down as if mocking her. She finally reached the garden, her breath coming out loud as she tried to control it. The side of her stomach tingled slightly in pain as she pressed her hands to her chest.
"That can't be… No!!" Yeara spoke, shaking her head in disbelief, not understanding what had just happened. Her head looked back as if to make sure no one was following her.
She turned again, shaking her head. Her fingers moved to her hair as she brushed it back carefully, not touching the curled strands that had been made in front, of course, she did not want to look more mad than she felt.
Am I really seeing things?
She asked herself as she unknowingly began to pace along the garden path. Her hands moved to her temples, then her forehead, massaging it as she kept thinking.
Did this mean that door… that library… that man…
They were not real.
"Impossible," Yeara shook her head. She stopped, crossing her arms, and then began to laugh. The laughter came out nervous and worried. If anybody saw her now, they would think the queen had lost her mind.
"Oh heavens, yea, why had you not gone to the Physician Bush for some treatment… or is it the book I am reading?" she spoke aloud, staring at the butterfly that had flown and flapped its wings atop the red flower. Her eyes just stared at it, as if it would give her the answer she needed.
Maybe her papa was right—she was into books so much that her imagination was getting the better of her.
"Queen Yeara."
Yeara's head snapped to the side, her gaze resting on her personal maid Lily, whose head was low. There was slight relief in Yeara's expression.
She had so many unanswered questions. She straightened her posture, her lips curving into a smile, slowly moving her hands to each other elegantly in a ladylike way.
"Is something the matter?" Yeara asked, and the maid lowered her head more before speaking.
"Not at all, Queen Yeara. I had come to inform you that the Royal Tailor is here. Do you wish to come now or later?"
Yeara nodded.
"Of course, lead me to her," she said softly. Maybe this could distract her from her racing thoughts.
The maid bowed and walked toward the exit. Yeara followed. They entered the hallway. Yeara followed; the hallway was long, doors on each side, paintings resting on the walls, perfectly blending with the vibe. But after a few steps, the maid stopped. She bowed and stood to the side.
Yeara raised a brow. They had not stopped in front of any door, so why had the maid suddenly stopped?
"I apologize, Queen Yeara. I cannot go any further, but I assure you this is the hallway to the measurement room," the woman spoke, her head still deeply lowered, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly as if she were afraid of something.
Yeara raised a brow questioningly, asking gently, still wondering why the maid looked scared.
"It was an order from the King that we do not show you the way."
She spoke—and it was then that Yeara's shoulders stiffened in shock.
So he really had taken that seriously.
Yeara could not believe him. How could he be so heartless? She had only thought it was talk, like simply showing her around. She had no idea he meant even them leading her.
"Very well, you may leave," Yeara spoke with a small smile as the maid quickly bowed and left. Yeara's eyes moved to the doors.
At least the maid had been kind enough to bring her this far. It then dawned on her: the maid had gone out of her way to bring her this far. No wonder she had been trembling—if anyone saw her, she would be in deep trouble.
Yeara sighed. She would need to speak to Zalthor about this. Why did he have to make everything hard for her?
Just why?
"Sixth door," she said softly after counting the doors to the end in her head. That would mean one of them was the measurement room.
Her gaze rested on the paintings on the walls close to the two doors that faced each other, not far from her. The left door had a painting of the sky during daytime, with trees on one side and waves crashing below on the other.
"This is the room," Yeara spoke. She did not even care to check the other door's painting. She did not know why, but the way this painting felt different, even though she had not seen the other—was enough.
Even if it is not the room, I would check the other one, she said to herself.
It was better to check each door than just stare at the paintings. Maybe this was just common sense—or simply working smarter rather than harder. She stopped in front of the door, taking a few deep breaths. She moved her hands to the doorknob before slowly pushing it downwards.
Three maids rushed past, heads low, holding trays with a teapot and cups. Yeara's head turned toward them slowly, wondering why they were rushing. It was not like they needed to rush like that. What would have been the order that made them hurry?
She pushed the door open. Her eyes rested inside, and to her surprise, a lady stood there, a long tape in her hands. The room had an open window; the curtains were placed to the side so the breeze entered.
Different materials were arranged in long order, vibrant and dim colors, nothing like she had seen before. A large mirror faced her, with a small stool and a large stool in front.
Yeara's eyes rested on the woman, who had a smile on her lips. Her hair was packed neatly into a bun. She wore a simple brown gown, her posture professional and respectful.
"Greetings, Queen Yeara. I am Lady Sadran," the woman spoke as she curtsied. Yeara curtsied as well. As she shut the door, she noticed the woman's gaze fixed on something—or someone.
Yeara followed her gaze, and finally, it landed on a little girl. Her brown hair was packed on both sides with cute bows. She held a doll in her hands as she sat by the stool, playing with it.
"Apologies, my Queen. I could not leave her. I… I plead if this perhaps…"
Yeara shook her head as she walked toward the larger stool and sat.
"Oh, do not bother. I do not mind at all. In fact, I am happy to see her. Such a pretty little child you have," Yeara spoke. The lady smiled brightly and nodded, moving her fingers to her tape.
"Oh, my Queen," she said, turning to her daughter, who was now looking at Yeara with a curious gaze.
"What do you say to the Queen, Amber?" she asked as the girl stood, trying to curtsy.
"Thank you for your compliment, Queen." Her brown eyes rested on Yeara.
Yeara giggled at her cuteness. She looked around six, and now reminded her of Cedric. Oh, how she missed her brother.
"May I begin the measurements now?" the lady asked, a smile on her face. She was extremely happy; in fact, the way the Queen's presence made her feel was extraordinary. She had never met a royal this kind before. She indeed was a great match to the King.
"Yes, you may," Yeara spoke as the lady moved the measuring tape to Yeara's hands. But before she could go any further, the girl spoke.
"Mama, the Queen's hair looks similar to the mermaid in our village river."
The air grew still.