The Dead Man’s Palace
VII
Cecilia felt a tugging.
It wasn’t physical, but an urgent grasp
pulled at her being, poking and irritating enough
that she surfaced from sleep.
A woman stood beside her bed,
face stern and disapproving.
She looked deceptively young, early twenties,
but her grey eyes spoke of older experience.
Her hair was the same dirty blonde as Cecilia’s.
‘No disguise this time, mother?’
Cecilia croaked out, throat dry,
changing her sarcastic tone to bleak.
Lidea’s eyes narrowed, and Cecilia
felt a strange vulnerability she’d never had before.
‘You idiot girl, what have you done?’
Cecilia refused to ask Lidea what she meant
and didn’t protest when she strode from the room.
Instead she listened, noticing the usual
empty-silence of the dead man’s palace
was gone, replaced with the familiar
bustle of servants and visitors she’d grown up with.
Her body felt weak, but her mind was clear,
the mad whisperings that had plagued her gone.
But she felt cold with loss, sensing something
essential had been drained from her.
She gasped as memories of her task came back,
falling out of the bed in her haste to
make her weakened limbs function.
I’m so weak and hungry.
How long was I asleep?
‘Havana? Havana!’
Had she imagined the slave girl?
Had her delirium and desperation
brought to life such a boring companion?
‘Finally awake, are you?’
A servant whose face was coated in wrinkles
entered the room, carrying a tray of food.
‘Mistress Lidea insisted you were looked after,
but I can’t see why.
What a lazy creature you are.’
Cecilia was shocked into silence.
No one had ever looked at her or
ever wanted to think ill of her before,
now both Lidea and a servant were viewing
her like she was ordinary.
‘How dare you talk to me like that?
Do you know who I am?’
The servant smirked, dumping the tray
on the floor out of Cecilia’s reach.
‘Of course, His Majesty told everyone.
You’re the future queen’s useless servant.’
The next few days taught Cecilia
what being powerless truly was.
She was fed but stripped down
and forced into rough and unattractive clothes.
Her delicate skin itched from the material,
but she was not permitted to properly bathe
and ease her suffering.
All day long she was trapped in the kitchen,
scrubbing pots and plates clean
while suffocating in the stifling heat.
No one listened to her insistent story,
so she stopped trying,
Instead, she focused on listening.
Their preparations were for the wedding,
and Havana would be crowned after.
Cecilia noted the admiration and glazed devotion
as they spoke of the king and future queen,
recognising the constant state people had
shown her for most of her life.
Realisation settled on her then,
the feeling of emptiness she now had,
the magic she’d been born with
and used without knowing.
And the witch,
her mother,
who had tricked her into
giving her power to the corpse.
From the excited gossip Cecilia knew
everyone, even servants, would be allowed
to attend the crowning.
So she kept her head down,
working quietly,
waiting.
Cecilia didn’t get to see the wedding
but she decided it was probably for the best.
To see the traitor marry instead of her
would have broke her will.
The crowning would be formal, official,
with no declarations of affections
or weepy emotions.
This ceremony would feed her resolve,
not hinder it.
All the guests assembled in the throne room,
standing in rows according to rank,
servants to the back.
A red carpet led to the two thrones,
currently empty,
with only the archbishop waiting
by a table in front of them.
Cecilia couldn’t see the crown and tiara
very well at her distance,
but envy grew in her all the same.
Trumpets began to play as
the two newlyweds entered,
walking confidently down the walkway.
Cecilia barely looked at the man,
her hatred focused on Havana,
who looked ridiculous in such fine clothes.
She was pale, eye haunted,
but she walked with her head high,
her arm resting on her husband’s.
The ceremony was long and tedious
and it was only when they’d both been crowned
and turned to face their audience
that Havana’s eyes finally found Cecilia’s.
Distance seemed to melt away as Havana flinched,
visibly shakened. Her husband looked at her
in concern, his gaze trying to follow his wife’s
to see the cause of her distress…
Lidea appeared in front of Cecilia,
blocking her view and pulling her from the room.
‘What are you doing?’ Lidea demanded.
‘You caused this, so don’t regret it now!’
‘I caused nothing!’ Cecilia screamed.
‘I was robbed of my rightful reward!
And you, you wanted me to die!
You wanted him to drain my magic and kill me!’
‘Yes,’ Lidea said, no hesitation, no regret.
‘For the sake of the future, you needed to die.’
And so, finally, she told Cecilia her story.
Scribbled Thoughts 