one | intentional imprisonment
They put me in much too nice a holding cell. The bars are a weak iron, the stones are perfectly cut and fit together so there’s barely a draft. There is a barred window, but it has curtains. There is a soft bed, albeit with a scratchy blanket, and they even have a private corner for bathroom and changing purposes! How naïve. It would be easy to escape, but that’s not my priority. I need to meet the King. Or at least one of the men in charge.
I settle on the bed quietly, looking around, while I focus on my task. It is tempting to do little fire tricks to entertain myself, perhaps melt the bars a little, but I resist. I can’t risk them knowing what I am just yet. I need to remain a bit unassuming. I need them to keep making mistakes.
I finally hear footsteps above and voices. They make their way down the stairs and I sit like a proper lady, tugging at my unique dress to make it more to their standards. The sea green material ends at my ankles and has two slits that end mid-thigh on each side. Tough brown leather leggings cover my legs, but I hide this so I don’t look like I’m planning for any action. The fabric gathers across my torso to a point just above the right side of my chest, twisting slightly into a light sleeve. My left shoulder is covered by a sheer gold overlay that pulls up from underneath the fabric of the bodice. Simple, elegant, but not too much. Very different, however, than the high collared frilly gowns most women in the kingdom wear. I tug my hair so that some curls spill over my shoulders and tuck my feet under the bed, ankles crossed, so that my supple leather boots are hidden.
“Here she is, your highness,” a gruff guard says. His leather uniform looks old and needs polishing. I can barely make out the crest on his chest. “The prisoner.” I look wide eyed and innocently from the guards to the king. I have to admit, none of them are bad looking, but the king takes the cake. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, tousled light hair. Perfect stormy green eyes. He commands attention in his dark shirt, deep emerald cloak flowing to the floor. His boots look a bit worn, like he isn’t afraid to lead from the front. Atop his head, slightly askew, is a simply gold crown. I’m tempted to go for it, but that might be pushing my luck. I’ll keep my focus on what I’ve come for. I steel my expression to that of a frightened schoolgirl and scrunch back as they unlock the flimsy door.
“This better not be a waste of my time, Henry,” the King growls before he really looks at me. I can see him appreciating my dark auburn hair, my brilliant blue eyes, the smattering of freckles on my face. I curl backwards as he enters and he stops with a sigh and a smile. “She’s shaking like a leaf, Henry. Hardly a threat. Did you have to scare her so?” His hand ruffles through his hair, nearly knocking the crown all the way off.
Henry looks down at the floor, muttering to himself about witnesses and disappearing jewelry and the King lowers himself to look into my eyes. I dip my head down as if to bow. Really, I am hiding my mirth. There is a lot of missing jewelry, but they’ll never get it back. It has already been melted by my hands, used to bolster my own energy stores.
“Miss,” his voice is unbelievably soft, and in spite of myself, I look up. “I’m terribly sorry if my men have frightened you.” His deep eyes pull me in, and I nearly forget my objective. I blink and bite my lip, looking down.
“Am I in trouble?” my lips quiver, eyes anxious. He is totally eating this up. Moron. Men are always so eager to fall for the whole damsel-in-distress façade. Gah.
“There was an accusation made. Someone reported you stealing large amounts of gold and jewelry from a stall at the market,” the King assesses my reaction. Maybe he’s not so stupid to fall for my act. Time to turn things up. Tears well up into my eyes as I begin my explanation, and the King, panicking, pats himself down before reaching into his cloak to pull out a handkerchief. It is then that I spot my glittering target, and a few other baubles. Of course he’d keep it close. A dragon’s heirloom is priceless, not to be left alone. Ever.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” I continue. “I j-j-just saw... My mum’s necklace was s-s-stolen and I th-thought that jeweler had it. I was looking through the wares there to see if it was r-r-really t-there.” I keep sniffling into his kerchief. “Mum died and it was stolen and it’s all I h-h-have left of h-h-her.” This part I don’t have to fake quite as much. It really is the last connection to my dead mother. I will do anything to get it back. The lie is that the jeweler didn’t have it, and I knew that to begin with. I was simply there storing up energy and waiting to get caught so I could get to my real target.
The King startles me by reaching to pat my knee, as if he can sense my pain. It is real, and I am channeling it the best I can now. Perhaps he feels some kind of remorse? His hand on my leg is distracting me and I tug it away as if I’m a proper little mouse of a girl.
“Ah,” the King sighs, standing. “I see. So you didn’t steal anything?”
“I w-w-was j-j-just looking through the wares, your highness, I swear it! Please don’t k-k-kill me,” my voice is nearly wailing as I fall onto my knees in front of him. “Look at m-me! W-w-where would I p-put anything?” He looks me over as instructed. Hmm. Maybe that wasn’t such a clever thing to say. I put more into my act, sticking out a trembling lip.
“You are clearly distraught,” the King backs away towards the door. “You shall not be punished. The next time I will not be so lenient.” He begins having a word with the guard and they beckon me forward to leave. I stand with a gleam in my eye, twirling the pocket watch I snagged from the King’s trousers obviously in my hand with a cackle. Both of the men stop. The King smiles. Why is he smiling? I like it. No! Stop.
I stretch and walk forward, letting my hair’s natural color return. Electric blue can be seen at the tips, fading into the orange and red hues, the deep auburn settling in from the middle to my roots. My eyes flash wickedly as the men stare and step back, swearing. I breathe on the pocket watch, my smoky breath melting it and I rub the liquid gold along my arms.
“Fools,” I tut, drinking in the extra energy that seeps through my skin. “I am surprised, oh king, that your dear pocket watch isn’t made of purer gold. I hope you didn’t get ripped off.” The King looks furious as I step towards him, and the guard is shaking bravely. “I shall give you one chance to give back what you stole.” The King rolls his eyes at me, lifting his arms out widely to the side.
“I stole nothing, shifter,” the King spits.
“Have it your way, then,” I grin wildly. I let my scales cover my arms and chest under my clothes in a kind of protective armor. The color, at it’s base, is white, but bright blue, sea green, and deep navy can be seen. The King looks at them in surprise, which is to be expected. There are no other dragons with my colors. And my colors change much of the time.
Flames ignite at the ends of my hair and I swear the guard almost faints. The King stands bravely, nonchalantly as he takes me in, eyes looking at me... with what? Curiosity? Interest? Lust? I pull my thoughts together as I stalk forward confidently. The King doesn’t bother to stop me as I shove him against the wall, using my other hand to knock over the guard. I yank mother’s necklace from its hiding spot and drape it around my neck, glaring into his eyes. “As a thank you for your cooperation, I’ll refrain from burning down your castle and your town.” I let go and step back, and the king smiles. I curse, noticing the other guards that have filled in the hallway on both sides, bows loaded with diamond and steel arrows.
The King chuckles at me, reaching out to trace along the necklace at my chest, holding a hand up and the soldiers wait for his signal. As his hands are about to close around the blood-colored ruby, I sigh deeply.
“I really liked this dress,” my voice is annoyed, and I let my wings burst out through the material, grabbing the necklace and throwing myself back into the room while blowing a cheeky kiss to all the men. With a twist, I roar a ball of flames over the window section of the wall and dive through it into the air. I take to the skies and hiss as an arrow skims my ankle. I look back to see only the king at the wreckage, waving tauntingly. Where is his bow? Did he throw the arrow that hard? Perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye.
I push the thoughts away and concentrate, flying higher until the clouds cover me. Then, I head straight for home, letting the tears fall. I wish I had mother instead of her stupid necklace.
