The next morning, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. Alexander arrived with a tray, setting it down in front of her without a word. His eyes didn’t quite meet hers.
“What is it?” she asked.
He hesitated, his fingers lingering on the edge of the tray before he finally spoke. “The king’s mood has worsened.”
The girl sighed. "Of course it has."
"He said—" Alexander faltered, then cleared his throat. “He said if you leave your room again… the consequences will be severe.”
The girl let out a bitter laugh. "It happens every time I leave my room. I'm used to it."
"I don't understand," Alexander said, sitting across from her. "Why would your presence cause such anger? They aren't cruel people—not to anyone else."
She stared into the tea, watching her reflection ripple before speaking, her voice laden with a burden she had carried her entire life. "A curse must have been cast on me in the cradle."
Alexander's silence stretched, the weight of unspoken thoughts palpable in the air. He leaned forward slightly, his voice a quiet defiance of whatever curse she imagined. "But I don’t feel aversion towards you at all. In fact…" He hesitated, the words coming gently. "I enjoy our conversations."
Her eyes stung, tears threatening to spill over. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to her with kindness.
Her breath hitched as her chest tightened. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again.
"Do you think, if I wrote a letter, you could deliver it to the boy who wrote to me?"
"Of course," Alexander replied, offering a soft smile.
A tiny spark of hope ignited in her chest, flickering like a fragile flame. It was the first she had felt in years.
January 4, 2007
Yuri,
Your letter was the first light I’ve had in what feels like forever. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been confined here, due to... well, strained circumstances. Isolation has been my only companion, and with it, the sharp edge of loneliness.
Sincerely,
Emily
Not a week later, Alexander vanished. When she inquired about him, another servant, answered with indifference. "He left for a better opportunity in the next city. More money, I heard."
"Yeah, money does that," Freefall’s smile was haunting. "It’s worth more than you, anyway."
The girl was alone again.
Until another letter arrived, carried by unfamiliar hands. She tore it open with desperation, her eyes scanning the words hungrily.
I can hardly believe what you’ve written. I’m just a peasant, but I would offer my friendship in a heartbeat, if fate allowed.
No doubt remained as to who the other was.
He stood before her, a boy her age, taller by a hand’s width, his unruly brown hair sticking out despite his grooming. His blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and concern, though the latter seemed reserved for her alone.
She, a reflection of his age, shorter but no less striking, with dark hair, flecked with hints of brass. Her eyes, a deep brown, opened a window to mysterious depths that draw him in.
"Let’s conspire together," Yuri said at once.
Her heart quickened at the word, but she hesitated, waiting for the catch.
"Let's kill your father."
"Yuri?" she whispered.
"Yes?"
Her arms instinctively folded over her chest as she looked away, the war inside her waging battle through clenched teeth and trembling limbs.
"Please," she murmured. "I could never dream of anything more."