Chapter Thirty-Three - Nightmares Painted in Blood

Nassandra was submerged in a black canvas.

She tried to call for help, but the only sound from her was a muffled cry that faded into silence. The endless black walls surrounding her dashed any chance of escaped, leaving her stranded in a void of nothingness. Her teeth chattered, and her body shook as the bitter cold clawed at her skin.

Then, she noticed a spot of red in the distance, seemingly floating in front of her. It dripped downward like a droplet of rain running down a window, leaving a long red trail in its wake. More trickles began to appear on the dark backdrop, caging the frightened Princess. Disjointed sounds of metal gears screeching caused Nassandra's ears to pound. She tried to twist her body, hoping to find the source of the sound, when she felt a sharp jolt of pain under her bare feet. A sticky red substance glued her to the ground and began slowly swallowing the bottom of her legs inch-by-inch.

Nassandra lifted her head, ready to scream for help once more. Her breath hitched, scratching her throat. She saw the woman known as Jozi staring back at her with a wicked smile and standing in front of a blood-red wall. The assassin's mouth remained closed while a laugh echoed all around, poisoning Nassandra's heart, slowing its beat to a crawl.

Jaws made from blood and steel tore out of the ground on all sides of the trapped Princess, hitting her mid-section and snapping her in half.

Nassandra's eyes snapped open as she bolted upright in her bed. A hoarse scream escaped her, followed by erratic gasps. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in her hands, trying to dull her fried senses. Even with the realisation that she was safe in her own spacious bedchamber, her nerves refused to rest, causing her body to sweat and tremble. Her chest tightened to the point where she almost summoned Fethawi for aid. In the end, she resisted the urge. Daylight crept through her window, signalling the start of a new day.

Haunting images from her dream lingered. Nightmares were a common occurrence for the Princess. Since the attack, their brutality had amplified.

~X~

Nassandra strolled through the interior castle gardens, hoping that would clear her mind. Sunlight poured from the windows above, offering assistance to a single caretaker tending to the flowers by gently spraying water from her fingers. Noticing the monarch approach, the caretaker smiled warmly and bowed. Nassandra returned the sentiment, but kept her quivering hands behind her back, until she cupped a hand over her mouth to mask a loud yawn.

Lost in the tranquil peace, she almost missed the other individual in the garden. A few paces in front of her sitting in front of an artificially crafted waterfall was Emlyn Baldur. Her eyes were closed, and legs were crossed with a curved short sword resting on her lap. The swordswoman's only sign of movement was her chest slowly rising and falling. Not wanting to disturb her, Nassandra turned to leave.

''Your Highness.'' Emlyn greeted stoically.

It may not have been an aggravated tone used, but Nassandra still felt guilt pang in her mind. Twisting her body to confront Emlyn, she saw that her eyes were still closed. ''I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.''

''You haven't.''

Nassandra stood rooted to the spot. ''I'm happy to see that I'm not the only one who comes here to be alone.''

''If two people wishing to be alone arrive at the same destination, they're not really alone.''

The Princess's heart raced. Nothing about Emlyn's tone was condescending, yet Nassandra began to panic all the same. ''I apologise. Now, I am disturbing you. I should go.''

''This is your home. You can come and go anywhere as you please.''

''Not at the expense of someone else's privacy,'' Nassandra said, wringing her hands together. ''And you have your own chamber in the West Wing, so this is your home too...'' she stopped herself, but it was already too late.

Emlyn's eyes shot open, staring at the Princess with a startling fusion of calm and intensity. Nassandra was her superior, but only one person's face paled in this confrontation. Afraid to speak another word, Nassandra almost turned heel and ran out of the garden when Emlyn rose up, standing tallest between the two.

''Something's on your mind, Your Highness. What is it?'' Emlyn questioned.

Weary about antagonising Emlyn further, Nassandra contemplated brushing the issue aside and leaving. She glanced up towards the corners of the garden, expecting to meet a bloodthirsty pair of eyes. Even with Emlyn standing close by, dread endured. Anxiety gnawed at her every bone.

Nassandra shook her head. ''Something doesn't feel right about this investigation. I don't think she did this alone.''

''We still have more of the tournament participants to interrogate.''

''It's not just that. Ailith said that there seemed to be no Knights positioned anywhere near the library at the time. What are the chances...''

''That she would slip through our guard while a prestigious event was taking place on castle grounds? Almost impossible.''

Breathing a sigh of relief, thankful that she wasn't alone with her paranoid thoughts, she continued. ''The assassin must have known how to get in and out of the castle without anyone noticing. There are many passages, but someone should have found her before she made it to the library.''

Emlyn gave a slow nod. ''I've thought the same.''

Taking one step forward, Nassandra cleared her dry throat. ''If it's no trouble...''

''I will question her!'' Emlyn interjected, placing her weapon into the uniform sheathe. ''If there's any information she withheld, I'll find out.''

''Thank you. But, please be careful.''

''I'll take a partner with me.'' After giving the Princess a final bow, clenching her fist over her chest in the process, Emlyn departed. ''Co-crème Gil!'' She called out monotonically.

Nassandra's brows furrowed. ''Pardon?''

''A cup-full before you sleep. It'll help with the nightmares.''

Alone once again, Nassandra had the chance to exhale. A small voice in the back of her mind scolded her for the errors in her speech. To her pleasant surprise, it was engulfed by a sense of accomplishment. Her lip curled into the faintest of smiles.

The sound of slow, deliberate clapping from behind made her jump. She turned, and her heart plummeted to find Bricen approaching her with a coy grin. ''Bravo, I only heard a few stumbles here and there.''

Nassandra dipped her head forward, disguising fear with respect. ''If you wish to speak with my father-,''

''What if it were you I wished to speak with?'' he asked sardonically. ''One of these days, you'll have to find your voice. You can't hide behind the King forever.''

Nassandra recoiled under his leery gaze. Any positivity she built up from her conversation with Emlyn had evaporated. She silently cursed him, and herself, for breaking her spirit. ''You're...'' she started before her voice cracked.

Bricen tapped two fingers behind his ear and leant closer. ''I'm what? You'll have to speak up.''

Gritting her teeth, she persisted. ''You're a hypocrite.''

''What makes you say that?''

''You mock me for hiding behind my father, and yet taunt me when no one else is around to hear your foul tone.''

''Foul tone? I merely speak the truth.'' He stated with a hint of amusement behind his words. ''I sympathise with your situation, truly, I do. It can't be easy to be the cowering monarch after the Kingdom has been ruled by two of the most...shall we say, charismatic Kings of our time. So much expectation is on you. If you fail in your duties, millions of people will suffer.''

Nassandra's breathing increased. ''You think you can do better?''

''I may not be of noble blood, but I have served this Kingdom for over four decades since the first council was founded under your grandfather. Men and women have come and gone, but I've remained. Do you want to know why?'' he took another step closer, looking down at the disheartened Princess. ''I have obeyed every command given. I have passed every law that was necessary. I do everything that is required of me. Because of this, I have everything you don't. Experience. Confidence. Power...''

''But not respect!''

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Bricen froze in place, staring at her with bulging eyes, a scowl manifesting. He let out a heavy sigh and paced towards a rose bush nearby to brush his finger over the petals. Nassandra saw his hand tense, visibly shaking. One a flick of his wrist, he pulled the flower from the shrub, ignoring the thorn jabbing into his thumb. A tiny spot of red oozed out.

''I'm going to share a secret with you. I hated your grandfather. I despised every moment I served under him. Under his voice I was weak. I was made his fool no matter what I did for him. I thought that after his death, things would change for me. But nothing has changed. I'm just an old relic that people have the audacity to spit on.'' He finally turned to face her, narrowing his eyes. ''You've yet to prove yourself and everyone still adores you simply because of your blood.''

''I...I think the attempt on my life has proven otherwise.'' Nassandra stammered.

''Why do you think someone would attack you?''

''Like you said...b-because of my blood.''

''It's entirely possible that your lineage may be the reason for this attack, but perhaps not in the way we may think.''

''What do you mean?'' she asked. Despite her best attempts, her skin crawled with worry and her chest began to ache.

Bricen glanced down at the rose in his hand one last time before propping it back on top of the bush, ignoring the small trail of red running down the stem. ''I know you keep your distance with the Kingdom's politics, despite that being contrary to your purpose, so you may not be aware of the disarray the Kingdom is in. Kiros may be a noble leader, but Niru ruled with an iron-fist. If he believed something was out of order, he would fix the issue no matter how extreme. Do you think you could rule like that?''

''I can learn...''

''It's not something you can learn! Your father is blind to the truth.''

''What truth is that?''

''You will never be a good Queen.'' He spat.

Nassandra felt her skull close in, causing her head to pound and throb. ''Are you suggesting that the people would rather I am dead than their Queen?''

''It's merely a theory, your Highness.'' He said, showing no sympathy as the Princess struggled to find a regular breathing pattern. ''You're just a scared young woman. Nothing you do will ever change that. That is the truth.''

Pain spread across Nassandra's body, causing her to go numb. Even with Bricen standing before her, his wrinkled features became almost unrecognisable as her vision blurred. The room spun around her. Every breath was now a desperate gasp for air. Slurred words escaped her, too fragmented for Bricen to understand. On the verge of tears, Nassandra fled out of the garden as fast as her rickety legs could carry her.

The outside world was a blank slate to her. All she could feel was a cluster of fiery sparks igniting in her head, shutting down her body until she had no choice but to stop midway through a corridor. Pressing her back against the wall, she slumped down and curled tightly on the floor. Her hand fumbled in one of her pockets, urgently grabbing a small earring with liquid swaying in a small orb. It took a few attempts before she clipped it onto her earlobe as her body continued to jerk and tremble. Once secured, a warm glow emitted from the device.

''F-Fethawi! It-it's a-an attack! P-pl-please...''

Red faced and staring at nothing, she clutched her knees tightly with white-knuckled hands.

Not even a minute after her call for help, Fethawi came hovering down the corridor and stopped in front of the Princess. He leant forward, waiting for Nassandra to notice his presence. ''Scale of one to ten?''

''E-eight.'' She said hastily.

He lifted a single wooden finger and twirled around repeatedly. She watched the steady rhythmic pattern, trying to time her breathing and match the circular motion. It was rarely an instant success, but eventually, Nassandra slowed her breathing to a small degree.

''Eyes closed, please,'' Fethawi instructed, taking her hands into his own. She followed his instructions while continuing to breathe at the same pace. ''There is a leaf resting on top of a river. The waves are gentle. The leaf is untroubled as it glides along. Smooth and flowing. There is only a soft breeze to help the leaf. Are you following the leaf?''

Through the erratic haze, Nassandra tried to pain the vision in her mind. Blackness transformed into serene colours of blue and green. The cloud sweats along her body ceased momentarily.

''Scale of one to ten?'' Fethawi asked.

''Five.''

''Eyes open, please.''

She obeyed and stared at his finger once again. He slowed the motion further, resulting in Nassandra doing the same with her breathing. Though the trembling didn't stop, she could finally move her limbs of her own accord and the world no longer felt like it was crushing her beneath its weight. Her face glistened with drying tears as she stared into Fethawi's eye, mustering the strongest smile she could. ''Thank you.''

''There is no need to thank me. It is what I was built for.''

Nassandra's gaze fell to the floor. ''Is this ever going to stop? Am I ever going to get better?''

Fethawi stared at her. ''Forgive me, Your Highness. Was that another rhetorical question?''

The Princess looked at him uncertainly. It was a genuine question. One that she had asked many times over the years, for as long as she could remember. Every time, it was a different answer that yielded the same level of uncertainty and sympathy. By now, it might as well be a rhetorical question.

''Yes, it was.'' She whispered. 

A/N: Hello guys, girls and everyone else. I hope that you're well and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. What did you think? Trust me as someone who's had experience, anxiety and panic attacks are not a pleasent experience. Don't be afraid to leave a comment telling me what you thought. Until next time, take care.