She was bleeding through her eyes.
She knew this because the sleeves used to wipe at her blurry vision had come away stained red. Mica stared at her wrists for a drawn breath. The ache behind her eyes had subsided to a dull throbbing which she tucked away in the face of the blood.
Now standing before her reflection in the mirror in the servant's bathroom, Mica cupped a handful of water and splashed her face. The moment her eyes shut she saw the image of the wolf prowling back and forth with its steadfast gaze on her.
Her eyes snapped open and she straightened whilst gripping the lip of the sink until her knuckles paled.
Her lip was trembling.
"It's okay," she muttered hard, yet unwilling to shut her eyes for fear of what she would see, "you're okay. Nothing bad will happen to you."
The sound of water rushing through the tap is all that filled the bathroom.
Tentatively, slowly, as if testing that whatever she saw was not a hallucination – what if the King had put something in her food – she closed her eyes and darkness swallowed her whole.
Mica tried to steady her breathing whilst clinging to the sink. For once she was grateful for complete darkness, there was no movement behind her closed lids. The taste of relief began to settle on her tongue when movement happened.
No.
But before she could open her eyes, something – a hand– reached through the utter back and gently cupped her jaw.
The familiar shape of the ring pressing into her flesh reminded her of who it was. Her heart skipped a terrible beat.
… Mica…
The King's voice was like a thousand waters rushing through the dark cave, an echo that filled her head and silenced every other discernible thought. All she could hear was Him.
His hand tilted her face to where He stood towering before her.
… do not be afraid…
That voice, his voice, was a lull that drew her to him. She began to lean in instinctively not realizing that the ground was hard beneath her knees, when a cold breath fanned the back of her neck.
Distantly, Mica was aware of another presence having subtly entered this darkness but she could not discern it. Not when His presence had muted every other sense and was drawing her deeper into Him.
The cold breath turned into another hand and grabbed the back of her tunic in a tight fist.
The grip on her face tightened reflexively but it was too late– she was torn from his hand and violently flung away.
A loud thump reverberated across the bathroom as Mica stumbled back and slammed against the wall. Her heart was thumping in her throat.
She stared, wild-eyed at the small bathroom looking for any intruder but there was none.
"Hey!"
Her head snapped in the direction of the door that shook on its hinges while being banged from the opposite end. "Get out of there before I take you out myself! You've been inside for hours!"
Hours?
She stalled whilst trying to gather her bearings but jumped again, startled by the bout of loudness as a body slammed into the door.
"Get out human." The voice growled in threat.
"I'm out! I'm out!" Balling the bloodied tissues which had wiped her tears, Mica stuffed them into the bucket and covered it. She grabbed her jacket from the floor, drew in a steadying breath and braced herself opening the bathroom door and stepping out.
A hand grabbed at the front of her tunic immediately and drew her up onto her toes. She cringed back from the face and raised her hand as if placating a dog. "I'm done, sorry about that," she tried smiling but it felt wrong, "had a running stomach."
The servant glared at her and began to speak, "Next time take it to the woods. We ain't gonna wait for you again."
"Will do."
Shoving her back onto the wall, he turned and entered the bathroom slamming it shut behind him.
She stared at the door while rubbing at the sore spot on her chest from his grip.
As if reminded of another grip, her hand wandered to the back of her neck and she cupped the skin which was no longer sensitive nor chilled from the intruder.
"Where have you been?" Lady Moon's voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned to find her standing there with a stern look. "I have been looking for you all morning."
"I had the runs." The lie came unbidden and unprepared but it seemed to have done the job. Her mistress made a face of revulsion before sighing and gesturing at the grounds beyond the window.
"The servants will be preparing the rooms for the arriving guests. Your job is to bring in the laundry and scrub the bathrooms for each room."
Mica nodded, relieved that the subject was dropped. "I'll get right to it."
"Servant–" .
Lady moon stared long and hard, her gaze searching for something she could not find. "I do not know how a human ended up in this castle amongst us wolves, but if I were you, I would keep my head down and attend to chores without gathering the attention of anyone."
"Yes, I know–"
"No," she interrupted with a sharp shake of her head. "You do not know that. You already got my attention due to your tardiness, waking up late, sleeping in and skipping breakfast only to doze and dine from the King's plate."
Mica's face paled and the mistress saw her expression for her mouth twisted in a wretched smile. "Did you think that I would not catch wind of your little.. Excursions?"
"He invited–"
A single raised palm silenced her. "Be that as it may, you are expected to rise early every morning and have your breakfast. Do we understand each other?"
She nodded.
"Good." An offhanded dismissive nod. "You may go."
Turning on her heels, Mica made her way through the castle with her hands nervously wringing the cloth back and forth. Her mind bounced between the span of last night's dinner and the bathroom.
The visions of the lycanthrope are dark and mysterious, leaning into her like a listed building.
The King's warm hand that cupped her face.
And the cold breath snatching her out of the darkness.
The pounding in her head had subsided but she sighed and rubbed at her temples while turning a corner and walking out of the palace into the garden.
"Keep your head down. Keep your head down." Her murmurs were stolen by the wind, a secret held between the air and her. "Do your chores."
She squinted up into the pale overcast which hindered the sun's light. The gloomy aura that dulled the air was jarring against the manner in which servants milled about busily; their faces were sharp and alive, blurs against her slow-moving body as they carried baskets of fruits from the orchards and fresh food from the garden patch.
Mica stood by a random line and stared with a dull sort of wonder. Her eyes moved from the grounds to the walls beyond that stood all around the castle shielding them from the inside.
Tall and looming.
Beyond that was the woods.
She didn't realize just why she was staring at the wall.
I'm just tired, she reasoned, and hallucinating.
That was the answer. The insomnia was beginning to spill into her reality, distorting figures and making her feel more-or-less nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake.
But then her gaze lingered on a post by one of the towers where a guard patrolled alongside a wolf, his hand came to rest on the hilt by his hip.
She was measuring the height of the wall without realizing it.
Surely there has to be an entrance point with stairs within the wall.
How did they get up there?
The bedsheet smelled like lavender in her arm, soft to the touch.
What kind of sheets does the King use?
And what do they smell like?
The question jarred her out of her dreamlike state. Blinking, Mica shook her curls and stuffed the laundry into the basket forcefully, shoving her thoughts down with it.
"Not my problem."