NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: The Throne Room
"Trespassing? Just let me go, then! I will remove myself from your land with haste. I promise." Anxiety pressed on her vocal cords and made her voice come out squeaky.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. You resisted arrest as well, so trespassing is not the only charge against you."
Nikola guffawed, and resisted letting the tears flowing in flood down her face. "I didn't resist arrest until you started chasing me-- what was I supposed to do?"
"What you are supposed to do now is come with me. Quietly."
Carefully, the guard peeled himself off of her and rose to his feet, and then bent down to gather up the metal chain attached to the manacles. While he was vulnerable and bent, she gave her wrists a swift yank and he fell forward, tumbling past her. She didn't waste time checking if he was okay, and instead she rocketed to her feet and broke into a sprint.
But it was futile.
Four more guards, all in garb similar to the one who had caught her, were so close that they just took the chain dangling from her wrists and gave her a stern look. One laughed aloud, assumedly at her attempt to escape. It was then that the tears broke past their fleshy gate and spilled down her cheeks.
Jail.
Since her father had been taken, it had become one of her worst fears; he hadn't been able to continue talking to his any friends, or running his business, or raising his one and only daughter. The day the guards had showed up, everything he cared about had to be put on hold.
More hands grabbed the clunky metal chain, and it scraped loudly against the ground as they began to jerk her along. One of the men went to go help the one she had pulled over up, and then he joined in too, wrapping his hand around the lead with a grunt.
She relied on being stronger than the three or four men holding her bindings and yanked downward again, in one swift motion. The guard closest to her stumbled, and she rammed her shoulder into him while he was unsteady. He fell to the ground with a satisfying smack.
The satisfying smack was where her little escape attempt ended. The three others were upon her an instant, one digging his fingers into her hair and pulling her up so her spine was straight and her hair was taut.
"Two charges of assaulting an officer," he barked from behind her.
"That's the second time she's used that trick. Let's wise up and keep an eye on her."
Her chances of getting away went from slim to none as two of them firmly, intentionally, grabbed the end of her chains. The one who was already tangled in her hair stayed that way.
It took them a long time to shimmy along to the palace, and many elves stopped to stare at her as she passed. To her surprise, not all of them looked triumphant, and several shuffled away with their faces cast downward.
The palace was a tall, onyx building made from glossy, smooth stone. It was a gaudy and gothic at once, with long, pointed towers at each corner and swirled, purple accents that resembled the butterfly wing motif they had going for them.
Flowers that butterflies probably liked were growing in heaps down the sides of the building, but Nikola wasn't in the mood to be taking in the scenery. She was waiting for the men all around her to show her another opening, a weak point, so that she could strike again. But they were on high alert from her two previous escape attempts, and they weren't giving her anything to work with. They were pressed so close to her that the flourishes on their armour were in danger of poking her eyes out.
They dragged her up the front steps, her uncooperative feet scraping against each step as she went limp in their arms; as she adjusted her weight, though, they adjusted their hold on her and kept steadfastly on their way. Just how much was this Violet Queen paying them that they were so unfazed by her antics? One of them still had a streak of blood painting their face; blood that was her fault, drawn out by her. This kind of loyalty was insane, and in this moment it disgusted her, because it was leading to her going to jail.
As they kicked open the double doors that opened into a wide hallway that had many branching paths, Nikola wondered if they were going to kill her. The thought of being brought down by people who had apprehended her for a mere paycheque made it all seem so wasteful.
Surrounded by the city guards that might be the end of her, she was dragged across the purple carpet that ran down the hall and into the throne room that sat behind another set of double doors. Nikola, who was from a small, rural town, wondered why these people needed so many doors; two at the end of each hallway, twice as many as she had ever had. Just the amount of doors they used in their castle gave her the impression that the people who lived here must live in excess, particularly...
The queen. A noblewoman of some apparent status sat atop the throne, and the first thing Nikola noted was that she held no weapons at her side or in her hands. She was either confident that her servants could eradicate any threats, or she wielded magic of some kind. Long, floofy fabric flowed from around her hips and hit the floor even while her feet hovered a few inches above the ground - not because she was short, but because the throne was so tall. Her dress was so far from what Nikola wore, and would be a trial to maneuver in, but perhaps the point was that she could wear whatever she wanted.
Her hair was nearly white, with just a hair of straw colour to it, and it was so absurdly arranged that it took Nikola a moment to figure out it was even hair. A giant bun sat on the back of her skull, but from it erupted two wings made of wire all wrapped up and covered with loops and loops of her hair.
Nikola wrinkled her nose. She wondered if this woman was made to suit her city, or if the city was made to suit her.
"Your Majesty," the guards bellowed across the room, and got on one knee, bringing her down into a sort of diagonal lean that left her struggling to not face plant into the pretty floor.
"We've brought you a human."