Sleep evaded her like fine sand slipping between her fingers.
Mica tossed and turned in bed, the sheets a tangled mess around her ankles until she settled on her back and gazed at the ceiling. It was quiet all around her. The light slipping from under her door had faded to a darkness which meant everyone had retired to bed.
She rolled onto her side with a sigh. The moonlight spilled from her only window, cold and white against her skin. She watched it in a quiet daze.
Why did he take your eyesight?
Punishment.
Her skin crawled at the thought of another ripping talons along her face. One moment you can see and the next eternal darkness falls upon you, never to lift.
"Thank the gods for my eyesight." She muttered then paused at the sound of footsteps approaching. Her breathing still as warm light curved from beneath her door, growing brighter as the figure approached.
She waited tense as the figure approached, then walked past her door.
Only a servant, she exhaled in conclusion. Probably someone looking for the washroom.
Turning away from the door, Mica began to lift the covers over her head when she realized that the hallway had grown eerily silent too fast.
The footsteps stilled.
Her gaze returned to the slit under her door noticing the light hovering not too far. And then it began to grow again as the footsteps returned and halted right in front of her door.
There was a brief tense silence right before the doorknob turned slowly in one direction, tentatively as if testing the sound of it.
Mica's eyes widened at the sight of it twisting again, back and forth lazily before pushing gently only to halt.
She had locked the door right before entering bed out of habit.
A habit that was saving her right now.
Propped on an elbow she watched as the turning continued, a bit more violent and persistent as if trying to unlock it.
Her mouth opened. "Hello?"
The turning stilled.
"Is someone there?" She tried, staring at the illuminated shadow under her door.
Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She clutched the blanket and began to edge out of the bed towards the window which was at least a forty foot drop to the courtyard below.
The shadow shifted, stepped back and began to walk back in the same direction from whence it came.
Mica remained unmoved, staring at the receding light that left darkness in its wake. For a terrible moment, a thought passed her mind– an image of the figure rushing back and pounding against her door until it broke from its hinges.
But the sound of her harsh breathing was all that remained for the hour to come.
Morning found her swaying slightly from fatigue.
A night spent wide-awake and peeking under her door crack or pressing her ear against the wood in anticipation of its return.
Fear smudged her eyes with dark crescents and she tried and failed to stifle a yawn while making the beds in the guest bedrooms and fluffing them.
"... he has decided to allow the gala to occur…"
"... why now all of a sudden? He hated those gatherings before. I don't see why he wants them now…"
Mica's hand smoothed over the bedsheet with her head tilting in the direction of the voices.
Don't be nosy.
She drifted noiselessly towards the door where the servants stood beyond, heads closely bowed in gossip.
"... I heard a few of the princesses will be arrayed…"
"... potential suitors for his next of kin…"
There was a pause, and she hadn't realized that her breath was held.
"Do you think the prophecy has been revealed?"
"Could be. Why else would he be choosing another wife for himself."
"... I'm not surprised it was another royal. The gods know how to choose… if it's so–"
"But the queen will not be all too pleased."
"She knew her place was only temporary."
A shift, much lower now. "That is if he finds his mate among them, otherwise she remains on the throne.
"Everything is bound to reach an end."
The doorknob turned then and opened.
Mica stumbled back and automatically reached for a vase on the table, and with her apron she bent over it with brows furrowed wiping at a particular spot.
The servant paused at the door, watching her with a blank stare that darkened briefly. "What are you doing here?"
"Changing the bed," she said while setting the vase down and turning to straighten a random pillow on the divan.
Pretense was a form that came easy to her so long as she didn't make eye contact with the servant. Touching objects randomly with an intense concentrated look on her face, she quietly made her way back to the bed which was half-done.
The servant watched for a bit, uncertain of her own actions, drew a conclusion and pivoted. "Hurry up and move on to the next room."
The door shut leaving her alone once more.
"The King has requested a private dinner."
Mica looked up to see lady Moon approaching her with the King's jug of wine in hand. She shifted on her feet, suddenly self conscious of the scrutinous eyes that roamed her body. "Have you no other set of clothing?"
What's wrong with what I'm wearing? Was what she wanted to ask until her eyes landed on the dirt stains that marred her tunic. The hem of it tore from snagging on a nail as she rounded a corner earlier.
Her bare toes curled against the cold floor defiantly.. "I don't."
Lady Moon began to speak then caught herself, simply shaking her head whilst turning away. "The King will be dining at the patio at midnight, make sure you are presentable by then."
"I will." Although she knew that she had no other set of clothing aside from her night gown.
Besides, she reasoned, turning away smirking, he can't even see me.
Repeating the words over and over until she was confident of her position, Mica made her way through the castle and up the stairs until she reached the grand door which opened up to the patio.
Inhaling a steady breath, she gripped the jug with one hand and used the other to push open the door.
The first thing she noticed was the moon– curved into a thin smile against the night sky. The next was how cold the air was, a frigid chill that instantly broke her skin out into gooseflesh.
And the next was the King seated by a small intimate table, and empty chair opposite him.
His head was turned towards the sky as if he could count the stars, but she knew better.
Upon hearing the door open, he inclined his head in her direction, a strand of dark hair falling over one pale eye.
"Mica."
Mica blinked at the name. It had been a while since he had forsaken the pet names for her own.
The chair opposite him suddenly pushed back gently, his long foot nudging it.
"Join me."