Her arms barged into the rope, fighting to get out. Eliza kicked out her legs, moving herself upwards. Air was trapped within her throat, like a ticking bomb inside her chest.
Heart hammering inside, Eliza swung her legs through swift waves, stricken with numbing pain.
She thought of her father, and how he would never survive without her help. She was all he had.
She thought of her mother, and her studies that took years of preparation.
Then, she thought of herself. She was all her family had, and at the end of the day, she was all she had.
Swirls of blood escaped her mouth, swishing away in the river. Her muscles screamed out as she mercilessly kicked out, whipping her head from side to side.
Eliza’s head pounded while water ran through her nose, and her soaked frame relaxed. Faintness poured over her like shadow, and her head lolled back into the chair’s wood.
‘Stay, stay’ Eliza’s thoughts were painfully forced, ‘Stay alive.’.
Like a terror-stricken lullaby, Eliza’s mind slowly drifted off. Her legs sunk against the chair’s, as it carefully rose. She felt herself being elevated, as her head braced the air.
The suffocation in her chest was minutes from exploding into nothing.
Her eyes shot wide open as she reached the air, joyously launching her head backwards for a taste of the sweet air. Relief filled her, as her shoulders graced the outdoors.
A shiver ran over her with the impact, reaching the harsh air. Eliza helplessly kicked out her aching legs, rising to float.
That word hit her like a slap to the face.
‘Float,’ She thought, ‘You’re floating; witches float.’.
Panic struck her, thundering from wall-to-wall inside her chest. A mix of tears and lake water ran down her face; she was floating.
Eliza’s knees had collapsed into numbed-out pain, while her lungs refilled with sharp air. The chair beneath her floated fully to the surface, and she had no fight left.
A gasp came from behind, and the murmurs of people filled the air. She felt the rope slicing into her arms, as they prepared to resurface her. Dipping her eyes, the faulty buttons of her blouse hung loose. Her clothes were slightly transparent, revealing her corpse-like soaking skin.
“A witch!” King Richard yelled from afar. “Proof at last!”.
Tilting her head back, Eliza could see him from the edge of her eye. He stood jeering a cruel finger at her in jubilant pride.
Queen Grace was gripping his arm, tugging him down from his stand. Reluctantly, he sat down at her side.
Eliza shook her head away, clenching her eyes shut. The rope pierced her skin, as her chair was drifted back to the podium. Water caressed her legs, as she was floated back to shore.
“Elizabeth!” An anonymous voice shouted, in a hesitant cry.
She flinched at the mention of her name. The voice was not a cruel jeer, or hurtful remark. It seemed genuine, as it trembled through the air.
Glimpsing to the surface, she had a clearer view. Richard’s eyes had gone a detestable cold, narrowed to the floor. The crowd’s voices overpowered the unknown voice.
The chair clunked against the podium, as the rope tugged her upwards. Eliza’s head shot back and forth, searching for the voice.
Her ears, spilling out residue water, listened for the voice. The tension had been broken by countless tones and sayings.
Shutting her eyes, she focused on its muffled cries alone. Blurring voices of the crowds struck her, but her concentration was pinpointed on that voice. It grew stronger, as Eliza’s mind drew comparisons.
Her mind landed on one, as the voice faded into a memory within her mind, aligning with the tone of a man she knew well.
“Put me down!” Eliza screamed, kicking out her tortured knees. Teeth clenched with a tight grip, she called out to the masked knight. He flinched, nodding.
Her feet slammed into the wood, and with shivering hands the knight untied the rope.
It loosened on her arms leaving flaming red stripes, then swung off her waist.
The masked man’s arm swung out to grip her, as Eliza ducked and dodged it. Receiving a flabbergasted expression, she darted across the wooden platform and jumped down the steps with a bang.
Her eyes met the centre of the grass, and he stood there. George Spinner’s drooping eyes met her with a flash.
His beige jacket was carelessly resting on his shoulders, clinging to his awkward frame. The man’s greying hair was dripping with grease, as his ebony eyes met her own.
Diving from the knight’s swinging fist, Eliza sprinted towards her father. Knights from all directions chased behind her, all except one.
Eliza ran from them, sprinting across the wet grass. Her father looked terrible, his eyes were red and swollen, with drooping bags underneath.
The knights grabbed her arms and pulled her back, as Eliza arched her chest out forward. A band of knights grabbed onto her father’s arms, yanking him backwards.
“No!” Eliza screamed, shooting one hand out to her injured father, “Please, leave him be! Stop!”.
The guard slammed his knuckles into her father’s chest sending a splutter of blood out of the man’s mouth. His face was looming and grey, as her fears came to life.
Eliza flung herself to her knees, elbowing a feisty guard away. Her father winced as the guard’s swung their fists, and panic raised in her throat.
“Silent! Enough!” Richard yelled, slamming his fist to the wood.
Turning back to her father, the two locked wide eyes. ‘It’s ok’, Eliza mouthed, shaking her head. George Spinner continued to fend off the guards, as Eliza’s knees were dragged across the sharp grass by knights.
She froze as one knight grabbed her father’s collar, raising their fist over their shoulder. Eliza elbowed one of her guards in the low chin, before waving her hand quickly through the air.
“I’ll go!” Eliza screamed, “I’ll go with you, I will do whatever you say, but only if you let my father go, please.”.
The guard’s turned to her, mouths ajar and eyes wide. King Richard squinted his eyes at her with a cautious gleam, before nodding to the knights.
The man gripping her father gave him a final foul look, before hesitantly dropping him. George Spinner fell to his knees, choking on the air.
“E- Elizabeth,” Her father croaked, clutching his chest. “D-Don’t.”.
“Go home, father,” Eliza smiled, trembling all the more, “Please, I’ll be fine.”.
The guard’s pulled her away, tying the restraints around her wrists. Eliza was walked to and pressed against the brick wall, as they fastened the rope.
“I will escort Miss Spinner to the tower,” A voice called, “Continue as you were.”
Eliza spotted Captain Edward strolling towards them, with a mellow smile on his face. She wondered if he had seen the scene at all.
“I’ll do it, Captain!” One guard said, taking her tied wrists.
“No, you won’t.” Edward warned, “You will do as I say.”.
The younger knight shuddered, sticking out a sulking lip. Edward strolled over and pressed a hand to her shoulder, marching Eliza along.
She turned to see his head held high, avoiding any eye contact with her. Eliza marched along beside with her head low.
The castle doors were open wide, as Edward pushed her through them. He grumbled underneath his breath, nodding to the staring courtiers.
The regal décor shined over them, as the halls gradually got darker. Edward quickly walked her down a different hall, opposite from the dungeons.
“Captain, why is she here?” One noble man asked, staring her up and down. Edward cleared his throat, gripping Eliza’s shoulder.
“I am not one to ask,” Edward whispered lowly, “I am only following commands.”.
“Shouldn’t she be in the dungeons?” The man spat, squinting his eyes at her.
“Apparently not,” Edward said, “As said, I am following an order.”.
The man sco
ffed, eyeing her before pushing past. He strolled down the hall behind, slamming the door at the end.
“I’m not going to the dungeons?” Eliza asked, “Why not?”.
Edward shifted away, clicking his tongue. He continued pushing her to the end of the hall, and around the doorframe.
“You are being transferred to the tower, until a final decision is made for execution.” Edward said, “In summary, you will be under my watch during that time.”.
“No one goes to the tower,” Eliza replied, shaking her head. “There must be a mistake.”.
“It was The King’s order; he is not wrong.” Edward warned.
Eliza stepped away; her face curled into disgust. The knight seemed confident in his words, but not prideful.
“I disagree,” Eliza murmured, watching as his face changed. “I once heard that those who are never wrong, have never stood for what is right.”.
Edward stopped, gazing towards her. His eyes drifted off, with a conflicted look.
“Yet, that depends on what you define as being right,” Edward whispered, “Does it not?”.
Eliza did not reply, turning away from the knight. She knew he had a point, but if everything came down to what individuals defined as good doing, the line would never be drawn.
Politics, her father had once said, should never interfere with a person’s right to live.
They walked side-by-side through the dim-lit corridor, then towards a grand staircase, decorated in shades of crimson, and fires illuminating the walls.
The steps clicked beneath her feet, as Edward speedily dragged her through.
The castle gardens were rumoured to be astonishingly beautiful, and seeing them, Eliza could understand why.
There were flowers blooming in harmony, with vegetable patches and trees, everything glistening with the golden sunset. It had to be the most incredible sight Eliza had ever seen.
Edward smiled, eyeing a sun-kissed rose. Eliza gazed longingly at the flower, tempted to take one with her. Ahead, there was a tall, daunting tower.
The brick was coarse and wide, marked with stain and crumbling stone. A cross-hatched window was locked overhead, forced shut. Eliza shook, as the sky turned a ghastly grey.
Edward remained silent throughout the walk. He banged on the wooden door and it swung open, as he gestured his gloved hand.
“This is where you will stay, controlled by myself. Go up the stone steps and into the room, until--” Edward’s voice shook, “Until your execution.”.
A stone staircase was at her feet, spiralling above. Eliza shot around, clutching her slightly dried arms.
Her eyes glimpsed Edward, who gave her what looked like a pitiful look, before he was gone.
The door shut behind her, and she sat in the dark, with nothing to do but accept her fate as it was, and as it would always be.
4
The Sword in the Stone Tower
“Elizabeth?” A voice whispered, pricking their fingers into Eliza’s arm. “Wake up!”.
She felt like she had slept for days, as sleep and stickiness crumbled from her face. The tower room had been locked behind her, leaving only the bed, window, and mirror.
Maidens from the castle had been delivering trays of limited food to her room, tidied it, then hastily left without a second glance.
The room had a plain bed and barred-shut windows that gave her a small view of the wonderful castle gardens. There was a mirror, with white-cloth clothes draped over the edge.
For the first few days, Edward had visited, to clarify that she was alive. He would speak to her for a few minutes, and each day she had asked how her father was, if he was alive. The knight had sighed, before answering that her father was fine.
“Make haste! Are you awake?” The high-pitched voice whined. With half-an-ounce of effort, Eliza rolled over with the blanket tugged over her shoulders.
“No.” Eliza grunted back, pulling the blanket over her head. The unknown person’s hand gripped the sheets, revealing her trembling frame.
“What are you--?” Eliza sat up, glaring at the figure. Her voice cut short as her eyes drifted upwards, slowly recognising the beaming face.
The figure’s blue gown was patterned with different gold flowers, and the person was slim but small, with strawberry-blonde hair flowing past their shoulders and a blue headband on their head.
“Lucie?” Eliza asked, rubbing at her eyes. Lucie’s navy eyes gleamed, as her mouth curled into a smile. The perfect maiden was neat and postured, compared to Eliza’s sulked state.
‘The ever-so practical, Lucie Benson.’ Eliza thought.
Eliza’s hair was sticking up in every direction, fallen in strands over her eyes. Lucie tilted her head, scoffing at the sight.
“Elizabeth,” Lucie said, plopping down onto the bed. “Apologies, I didn’t come sooner. The town is a pandemonium, these days.”.
“I don’t blame them,” Eliza grumbled, “Not when their King is an old—".
“Bite your tongue!” Lucie scolded, eyeing her. “It is not just His Majesty at the root of the chaos.”.
“Me?” Eliza said, “I’ve been locked in a dungeon, for goodness’ sake!”.
Lucie rolled her eyes, pushing away the silver tray at her feet. Eliza sat up, dusting down her paper-thin nightgown. The coarse metal of her locket stung against her skin, as she clutched her trembling arms.
“I know that,” Lucie replied, “But, you caused a stir at your own trial, and you are not the people’s most trusted person.”.
“No, I’m their scapegoat for when trouble hits.” Eliza sulked, “Are people so dim-witted, that they cannot accept that things do go wrong, simply by chance?”.
Lucie said nothing, staring outside the tower window. Flocks of birds flew in the breeze, reminding Eliza of her own lost critter.
“How are you feeling?” Lucie asked, gripping the edge of the bed. After a sudden life-reflecting moment, the maiden’s eyes had perked up once more.
“Fantastical.” Eliza scoffed. Lucie’s eyes glistened, as she reached out her hand, leaving it inches from Eliza’s own.
“I-I’m sorry, that you have to go through all of this,” Lucie murmured, placing her fingers atop Eliza’s.
Eliza knew that her foul demeanour made Lucie uncomfortable, as the maiden shifted slightly away from her.
“It isn’t your fault.” Eliza murmured.
Lucie’s hand drifted away, landing snugly in her lap. Inches apart, the two sat on the edge of the bed.
It was strange, Eliza thought, for them to be so awkward. The maiden had been on a trip alongside her father, to meet a far-off suitor. Lucie had only returned the day Eliza had been arrested, unluckily.
“Did your trip go well?” Eliza asked. “I had worried that, if your potential-husband was in France, you might have stayed there.”.
“No, of course not,” Lucie replied, her face flushed. “It turned out that the suitor had…other arrangements, as did I.”.
“Other arrangements?” Eliza queried, “Then, why did you go?”.
Lucie said nothing. Eliza knew the maiden had searched for a partner for a long time, but it never had a good result.
“To visit my family,” Lucie answered, “The voyage to France was set, we couldn’t not go.”.
Eliza nodded. Her heart poured out to the maiden, who had to leave her whole family, only for a royal employment.
To Lucie’s father, it was worth the trouble of emigrating to England, for the lady-in-waiting job his daughter was promised.
“There is still hope, and for what it is worth, I hope that you find your person.” Eliza said.
“That makes two of us.” Lucie sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. She froze, raising her hand over her face. “Goodness, I must sound so selfish, ranting on about my troubles to you.”.
Eliza agreed with that but held her tongue. Instead of accepting what was going to happen, she had denied it. During those imprisoned days, she slept and occupied her mind, to avoid facing the
sad fact; she would die.
“You don’t sound selfish,” Eliza lied, searching for words. “Anyhow, worrying myself sick over what might happen will not change what will.”.
Lucie wiped down her eyes, a shaking smile on her face. The two shared a moment, with mutual understanding.
“It will be fine, all of it.” Eliza whispered, trying to lighten the mood. “They won’t get rid of me that easy, I promise.”.
“He will, Elizabeth,” Lucie cried, chewing on her nails. “You don’t know what he’s capable of, not like I do.”.
Eliza understood. Working for The King had been both a curse and a blessing for Lucie. One time, the girl had spoken of a night when a man was being interrogated in the dungeons. The screams echoed from the cell right to her bedroom in the servant’s quarters.
“I have seen what he has done, and it boils more hatred than it does fear.” Eliza shrugged.
The two sat in silence, as Eliza’s gaze drifted to her bony feet. Lucie gripped the bedsheet, edging closer to her until they were side-by-side.
"E-Elizabeth?” Lucie cried, taking hold of her arm. “Is that—".
Eliza gazed to the window, spotting a black orb in the sky. It appeared frozen still, with pointed triangles at either side of it. To her horror, it got closer at the speed of light.
Bewitched Page 4
