On the Day of the Hunt (VI)

I aim to write these so that you can enjoy them as stand alone stories, or one after the other. If you'd like to do the latter (they're all very short):

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

++++++++++++

Mother does love me. I know she does. So why do I also know she is lying when the words leave her mouth?

I feel the frustration and urgency build inside me like heat. I open my mouth and it surges out,

"Tell me what you're not telling me."

I see she almost does, too, but stops herself in time.

"Now, then, you know you don't speak to me like that," She flaps her hand in a dismissive gesture, her eyes roving over the green expanse of the royal gardens. Staff, attendants, housekeepers, gardeners, maids, men in armour with swords... everywhere.

"Listen... When you come back from the mountain," her words stumble and crack, but she holds them together and forges on, "Then I'll tell you. I promise."

I blink hard, courage wavering. If I crumble, she will, too, and that'll break me.

I wish she'd just say it. It's a shadow darkening the spring sky and hovering between us. We talk around it. The hours stretch, empty, this unsaid Thing rattling around in them... and yet still too short.

Palace guards politely inform us it's time for me to return to my rooms and prepare for dinner. Ugh. More food! I feel sick. Mother squeezes my hand tight in farewell, and lets herself be led away.

I submit myself to the powdering, pulling, lacing, braiding that follows, my mind wandering. I'd been so sure it would be me last night, and then it wasn't, and now I feel snipped free and adrift.

It's like the night before, but different. There's a dull, jaded feel. Maybe even these people can have too many feasts and parties? Smiles look tighter. Eyes flicker, awkward, embarrassed to land on any recycled element from the night before.

The table is set so there's no obvious empty place. We don't speak of the boy who didn't return. We eat, we watch the court dance, our names are dropped into the crystal bowl. The queen plucks one out, and in the moment before she reads the name, her gaze lands on me.

I'm not even afraid anymore. This is like a sigh, this is right. This is what I knew would happen.

++++++++++++

Word count (excluding notes): 366

Submitted on 18th March at 22:34

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!

Leave me a link to your own latest story, if I haven't already seen it!

If you enjoyed this story, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another.

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 78 day streak. I'm also putting them in my Index post.

Thank you

Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads.