Annador, Chapter two

The guard grasped her arm with an iron grip, which far increased the pain that seared through her body. Down a dimly lit hallway he dragged her, to a staircase. The steps were crafted of the same, rough cement as her cell, and the thought of climbing them made Willow cringe. The guard could not read minds, which came as no surprise, especially after he turned his pale face to Willow and said one word.

"Up."

His pink lips parted, revealing slightly yellowed teeth, some of which were crooked or chipped. With his hand still gripping her forearm, Willow had no choice but to oblige. With a hesitant step, she lifted her bare foot and placed it on the first step. The cement was cold and hard, the rough texture made her wince. The guard also began to ascend, and pulled his young companion behind him on a leash fashioned from his arm, firmly attached to hers.

Up they went, Willow pausing to push her long, coppery hair out of her green eyes. They were round, and her emotions rippled across them like water. Blinking, she followed the guard. The staircase was not long. They walked only for a small time, until the guard stopped at a huge, metal door. Willow did not see hinges, so she guessed it would slide into the wall. The man reached his free hand to a silver keypad which featured both numbers and letters. With a thick, fleshy finger, he quickly typed something in, and, as Willow had predicted, the door slid into the wall.

The first thing Willow noticed was the smell. It was not a bad smell, just the incredibly strong scent of burning wood. She was in a tiny brick room, but the cement floor was covered in black soot, ash, and sand. Even the walls were streaked with soot.  There was an opening in the wall in front of her, big enough for even her guard to fit through, if he bent over. In fact, that is exactly what he did. He bent, and shuffled through the opening, pulling Willow so quickly, she almost smacked her face on the brick before ducking into the opening.

Now the two people were in a significantly larger room,  with stainless steel countertops, huge, rectangular sinks, ovens, and cooktops. Looking back, Willow saw that the small gap which she had come through was actually a fireplace. The design was actually brilliant, she realized. If a prisoner were to escape their cell, the fire could be lit, and there was an iron grate which could be locked onto the opening of the wall. A rough shove from the guard jerked her back to reality, though, and she realized that if she ever tried to escape, those treatments would be used for her. 

With a frown, she followed the guard out of the kitchen, and down another hallway, to a vast room, with marble floors. Huge windows allowed light to pour in, soaking everything with light. Beautiful paintings adorned the walls, and on the far side of the room sat three thrones.

The middle throne was obviously for the king. It was taller than the rest, and lush red cushions padded the seat and back rest, while the other two were significantly smaller, and wore blue silk, not red. Perhaps before her wedding had been interrupted, the sight would have amazed her, but now, she simply scowled. This was the throne room of her worst enemy, the king of Ondalasia, and all the gold in the world couldn't make her forgive this man.

Suddenly, the pressure on her arm ceased, and she looked to her guard. He stood stiff, with his arms at his sides. The man's small, round eyes were fixed on the other side of the room, and Willow followed his gaze. A tall man with a proud posture strutted into the room. He wore a fine suit, and a golden crown rested on his graying hair. The man looked to be in his latter forties, still healthy, but beginning the descent of old age.  He scowled up at the windows, and reached for a bell on a small table near the thrones. He picked it up, and rang it.

A crisp echo flowed into the room, and a few seconds later, so did a maid. She burst through the doors which he had come, and curtsied in front of the king.
     "You rang, sir?" Her voice was clear and sweet, and Willow thought it matched her golden hair and blue eyes well.
     "These curtains were to be closed, I told you! The sun will ruin the furniture! Why are they open now, girl?" The king roared, his brown eyes glaring down at the maid. She nodded, and scuttled to the windows like a frightened animal. Reaching up to a golden rope, she tugged it, and red curtains slid over the light, adopting a warm glow. Then, she turned, and looked at me. Her eyes widened, and then her surprised expression turned to one of sadness and pity.
     “Laura! Have I asked you to stay?” The king bellowed, and she winced.
      “Um, it's Laurel, sir, and I was just leaving.” She walked briskly towards the door, but cast a final glance in my direction. After she left, and the door clicked shut behind her, the king, too turned his gaze to me.

Self-conscious, I pulled my tattered dress a little, trying to cover myself more, and as he spoke, his voice was smooth, and cold, like a snake sliding through the brush, ready to strike at any moment.

“Well, hello, Willow.”