Flash Fiction Friday (16)

Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

I have to thank Blodeuedd at Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for introducing me to this fun meme. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with every week, but I'll give it a try from time to time.

The Image This Week:

This story picks up where the Bloody Queen left off last week.

The previous parts are:

A Fathers Daughter Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

By:  Melissa

My mind rises from the foggy slumber it's been lost in. My eyes start to peel open. Realization settles like boulders in the river, hard and fast. My hands fling to my sides pushing down on the hard bed I'm lying in. Readying to leverage myself up into a sprint for my safety.

But I hear a deep caressing voice, "No need to run. You are safe here."

I turn and see a long chiseled man sitting legs crossed looking down at his legs, almost lost in a meditation.

I sit up, checking to make sure my body will react with quick timing when I'm ready to go. I shift my back bone ever slightly, looking like I'm stretching from lying on this hard earthen bed, but really checking to make sure my family gift is still present and not taken from me while I slept. I feel the sheathing, and a slight curl more, there. There is the handle of my blade. So they didn't find it.

The man lifts his long lean face to look at me, his hair clumped together in small pony tails and braids. He has to be a refugee, no rebel. A rebel with Magicians at their aid and calling. Not a good combination. Very dangerous combination. I'll have to remember to mention this to my husband and search them out when I have removed the current threat of my sister.

But his face is so calm, looking at me with those large dark eyes. His thin mouth slightly curls at the sides. And a well defined jaw line, but thin that flows into a long neck. No scars. His bare chest has no scars, but chiseled as he have been working hard lifting and carrying on the farms.

He chuckles and my eyes return to his. There is a sparkle there. Then, through the thin lips he says, "You don't remember me, do you? All's well as that was years ago. Much has changed since then."

"LaAron? It can't be." My eyes look for his thumb.

"Aahh, you do remember then. Yes, it still bleeds." He lifts his right hand looking to it, showing a small bead of blood slowly welling on his thumb. "No one I've come across can lift the curse."

That explains the lack of scars even a scratch on the bare parts of his body.  I remember all to fond the day he got the one wound that now bleeds eternally.  He must have found someone to slow the bleeding enough to live with, but will never stop.

"But.. You... What is going on here?" Now starting to feel annoyed and anxious I need to get moving and finish what I started in motion.

"To the punch then. You always were one to be direct even as a child. Have you learned to play the political games yet? Hm, no need to answer. Your plan's not as secret as you thought. She was waiting for you."

"So you'll have me believe you saved me. What do you want with me?" Irritation starting to well in my chest, as I scan the little hut we are in.

"He's not my king. Eh. Before you say it, I don't care you're married to him. He doesn't rule here and never will. You do, as eldest and only child to King Raul. And there is much more at play here than you think with your sister."

I put my hands on my knees. I just questioned these thoughts myself not so long ago. My father and his ways, my sister, my husband. Hell even myself. Who's the enemy here? Now I'm in the rebels' camp. Just another piece to the growing puzzle, where no pieces fit together.