Bewitched

by Kaila Patterson

  The guards were pre-occupied with their training, and some would be on break. It was a dangerously intelligent plan, and a fair one.

  Shaking her head, Eliza shook herself back to reality. The matter at hand was someone would die today, if she did not act. Eliza’s heart thumped in her chest.

  ‘Think Elizabeth, if you kill him, he cannot kill you.’ One eager voice of her mind said. The other, more sensible voice disagreed; ‘You’d regret not saving him, it’s blood on your hands.’.

  Eliza pulled on her hair, debating over what to do. If she let him live, it meant even more innocent lives would disappear, including her own.

  If she let the strange assassin kill The King, she would be the one to see it, and cold-blood or not, it was still blood on her hands.

  She turned to her reasonable mindset. She would never outlive the fact she had let someone die, no matter who.

  Reluctantly, she ran over to her room door, grabbing the handle and twisting it. If she got the guards’ attention, she could stop it all from happening before it was too late.

  The King had been nothing but cruel, and he was the one who had her sentenced to death. However, deep down, she knew that she would be the one to get the blame for it.

  “Someone, listen!” Eliza yelled, facing the door.

  She kicked the wood, slamming her fists into the surface. There was no reaction, no sound from beneath.

  “Will you two horse-faced imbeciles do something?!” She screamed, pounding on the door.

  Voices rose from below. There were footsteps marching up the stairs, and taking a breath, she backed away from the door.

  There was a mumbled commotion sound from the other side of the door, a series of arguing and insulting, before the two guards finally unscrewed the lock.

  Edward and Thomas barged through the door. The two guard’s mouths sprawled open like two deprived dogs, and they both gasped for breath. Edward immediately caught her distressed face, while Thomas was doubled over, clutching his side.

  Her finger shot to the window, and Edward nodded. He grabbed Thomas by the collar, and the boy let out a yell. The two sprinted over, steadying at the window.

  “An assassin!” Thomas yelled, banging his fist on the crooked window. All the in-training knights had their backs turned to The King, and no one saw the figure raise his weapon; no one would see him kill The King.

  Both Thomas and Edward sprinted towards the door, and hesitantly, Eliza ran after them. She spun around the doorframe and to the staircase, behind the two knights back.

  Thomas kicked open the tower front door and ran out in front of the other two. Edward turned, catching a glimpse of Eliza. She stood froze, but he did not speak, he had no time to stop her.

  “Stop!” Thomas yelled, swinging his sword overhead. He missed the intruder, as they dodged his force.

  The assassin thought on their feet, stumbling across the grass, and sprinting away.

  Their hood flew out behind them, as they clumsily ran away. Both hands clutched their cloak, and no one got a sight of who bore it.

  The training guards, startled by the scene, ran towards the disappearing hood. A crowd of them, dressed in silver, disappeared with the assassin. The King was pushed aside by the frenzy, as he stepped into clear view.

  His face was a flaming red, as he raised a trembling fist. The frigid winter grass crunched under his boots, as he marched toward Edward.

  “What is this!?” King Richard roared, throwing Thomas away.

  The King, widely shaking his fist, turned to Thomas. His eye had caught Eliza, as his pupils widened in alarm.

  His jaw turned sharp, and his cheeks flushed scarlet. He turned to the nearest knight, Thomas, and gripped him by the collar.

  “Why is she out of the tower on your watch!?” He yelled, his knuckles sticking out like thorns on a bush.

  Eliza noticed the countless scars that lined Richard’s hand, and his face. They were faint, but one mark made a thin white line, right under his chin.

  ‘It looks like someone tried to kill him.’ She thought, before wincing at the ugly thought.

  She wished her gift of noticing minor details was not so prominent.

  Thomas stuttered, muttering an apology. His eyes were wide and afraid, while his face had gone grey.

  “Your Highness, as I hate to admit it, she was the one that warned us of the vigilant.” Edward said, gesturing to Eliza. “I take full responsibility.”.

  Edward rushed over, taking a grip of her wrists. There was silence.

  Richard dropped Thomas to the floor, and the boy fell to the grass. The King’s expression fell, and his eyes rested on her.

  ‘It’s like he’s looking right through me.’.

  Her eyes shifted away, instead turning to Edward. He gave her a sharp side-glance, silent.

  “Captain; a piece of advice,” Richard began, focused on the knight. “Lying for the wicked gets you no salvation.”.

  “I speak only the truth, Your Highness.”.

  “Indeed, but do remember what I said,” Richard said, “We never lie for the wicked, truth or not.”.

  In ways, she understood what he said, in others, she was lost entirely. To lie or not to lie, was the question; but how can you be sure who is wicked, when both sides claim to be good?

  Richard gazed upwards, as a short smirk met his face. He turned to her with a glint in his eyes.

  “A friend of yours, Spinner?”.

  Eliza shot him a look, before following his eye to the tower window. The wind attacked her before she could see, but when her vision cleared, she saw what The King meant.

  Lucie peered out of the window, watching the scene.

  King Richard laughed, as Eliza turned away. From the corner of her eye, she saw him smirking at the maiden. Lucie’s face turned red, as she ducked down and disappeared.

  ‘I should have left him to be attacked, I should have.’.

  Richard nodded at Edward. His smile was not the comforting, or the compassionate kind. It was the wicked kind of smirk that made her blood boil.

  “There you have it, Captain” The King announced. “It must have been the lady, to warn you of the assassin.”.

  Thomas stood to trembling feet, gazing up to the tower in disbelief. He limped toward The King, shaking his head.

  “The maiden wasn’t---” Thomas was cut off by Richard, who shot him a silencing glare.

  ‘His desperate ego wouldn’t allow him to believe it, that I saved him.’.

  She could see Edward staring down at her, his firm face now one of pity.

  With a final look, King Richard spun on his heel and marched away, his cape flying wide behind him. All three waited until he was merely a speck in the far grass, before Edward spoke.

  “It was you to save him, wasn’t it?” He asked, eyeing her.

  “You know that answer,” Eliza said, “Now, I’m beginning to think I should never have done it.”.

  “You did the right thing.”.

  “For people like you, not for people like me.”.

  She turned and walked away, the wind brushing her collar. The bittersweet air met her tongue, as a storm started to brew overhead.

  A hand gripped her shoulder. Edward spun her around, and his dark eyes stared into her own.

  “Thank you, truly,” He nodded, coming close to a smile. “That could have cost me my head.”.

  “You’re welcome.” Eliza shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything left to lose, is it?”.

  Watching him, she could not understand why he would choose to work for such a twisted man, royalty or not.

  “Right.” He whispered, but nothing more. Eliza’s heart sank in a way she had never felt, watching his face fall. Turning herself away, she walked faster than before.

  She reached the door and tried to kick it open, earning a harsh pain in her foot. Edward reached behind her, pushing the door open with ease. Flushing pink at her own stupidity, Eliza idly turned to the garden.

  It emptied
entirely, with the knights chasing and Thomas behind Edward, slouching like a half-dead slug. The flowers were slowly dying due to the frozen winter, and the evergreen hedge contrasted the flaking brown.

  Everything, even nature, had gotten much darker.

  Eliza walked in, and the door locked behind her. Edward turned his back and stayed that way, avoiding her look.

  Stepping forward, Eliza trudged up the stone steps, each foot making an echoing sound throughout the silence. She heard Edward clear his throat once or twice, but the tension was deadly.

  She heaved herself to the top of the staircase and opened the door, closing it shut. It made a loud creak as it closed, and all she wanted to do was fling herself onto the bed.

  A hand gripped her shoulder and flung her, sending her spinning through the air.

  “What did you do!?” Lucie yelled, yanking her arm. Eliza felt like the room was spinning, as the maiden tugged her back and forth.

  “That must be the hundredth time you have asked me that,” Eliza scoffed, “I never did recover from the time you threw me into the bush.”.

  “You were supposed to be here!” Lucie wailed, shaking Eliza back and forth.

  “Sorry,” Eliza grumbled, “It was an assassination attempt, that’s all.”.

  “That’s all?”.

  “Mm-hm.”.

  The maiden rolled her eyes, gesturing to her clothes. Eliza realised then; Lucie was not wearing her maiden dress.

  She wore a simple blouse and skirt, with a little blue bow on the back. Her hair up neatly in a bun, and she had a satchel with who-knows-what inside.

  “Do you still want to do this, the plan?” Lucie asked.

  Eliza nodded.

  “Right,” Lucie mumbled, averting her eyes. “I’ll admit, I was up all night plotting out scenarios, worrying myself.”.

  “I was too,” Eliza said. “I came to realise that it is better to focus on what will happen, rather than what could. If we are put in a bad scenario, think on your feet.”.

  Lucie’s face went slightly pale. She gripped the satchel and dropped it into Eliza’s open arms. The top of the bag was open and had a hole, revealing a pile of clothes, glistening in blue and gold.

  “Let’s do it.”.

  6

  The Plan Without A Plan

  “This might be your worst idea.” Eliza said, brushing out the fake-blonde wig on her head. “Or your most brilliant.”.

  Their plan was in action, and it was more absurd than anything she had ever heard. Lucie would become Eliza, the lonesome tower prisoner; Eliza would become Lucie, the fairest-of-the-fair lady.

  Her new outfit made her wonder how the queen’s ladies put up with wearing the too-tight-for-comfort gowns and complicated hairstyles.

  It was all strange, like seeing a version of her that was not her, but Lucie. Her hair was covered by the blonde wig, and she wore Lucie’s own blue-gold maiden gown.

  “Worst idea, by far,” Lucie replied, “I’m petrified.”.

  This was not what she had ever wanted to be like. The suffocating frocks, the tight pull her hair, the wobbling shoes that made her ankles swell, everything.

  Lucie had told her that the hair was tight to stretch out her forehead, to meet the royal ‘beauty standard’.

  “I will be fine, Lucie,” Eliza laughed, “You seem afraid that I’ll ruin your royal reputation.”.

  “Exactly.”.

  Eliza turned to see the maiden, who was not herself at all.

  Lucie wore Eliza’s own prisoner clothes, and a deep brown wig.

  Even her face had been smeared in moistures and tints, covering all the things that made her Lucie.

  Even while uncomfortable, Eliza’s jittery nerves turned to excitement. She swore to Lucie that, while outside the tower, she would not try to escape.

  If she did, Lucie would be the one to inevitably face execution. In Eliza’s place, or as the one who helped the witch escape.

  Everything was surreal, and nothing like their plan had ever happened before. It was her one chance, and one chance alone.

  Thinking of the past and present, it made her pity the prisoners before her. The innocent women that stood inside that very tower, left with nothing but acceptance for what would come.

  As the woe washed away, Eliza felt more determined. She wished she could somehow avenge them all, but it would ruin everything, and her feeling of selfishness came flooding back.

  “Lucie, do you think we should do this?” She asked.

  “No,” Lucie announced, spinning in her new skirt. “However, I want you to see your father, to see the world again. After all you’ve done for me.”.

  Dawn flew over, resting on her shoulder. Its eyes were squinted at her face, unsure of the difference between her and Lucie.

  The common village garments she once wore now abandoned and replaced with a shimmering royal gown, with a light blue tone and golden patterning, a matching headband resting on her head.

  Even she had to blink twice when she saw herself. Lucie had been caking her face with powder all morning, emphasizing certain features. Her cheeks were rosier, face appeared fuller, and lips pink.

  “When you go out there, remember to keep your head low,” Lucie said. “Lower your eyes, keep your back straight.”.

  “Mm-hm.”.

  It would be a struggle, to maintain the Lucie-persona. The three golden rules remained firm in her mind: Eyes low, head low, back straight.

  Lucie bent over, patting a powdery blush on her face. The powdered makeup made her wheeze, and her lips and cheeks were dramatically scarlet.

  ‘Beauty standard, Lucie says,’ Eliza thought, ‘Royals have strange ideals of beauty.’.

  Eliza looked down at her chest, to see her mother’s locket tucked safely beneath the gown. She had been adamant about wearing it, and reluctantly, Lucie had given in.

  Eliza believed it brought her protection, which was something she needed more than ever.

  “I look flushed, is having such red cheeks normal?” Eliza asked, turning to Lucie. The maiden shrugged, patting down her own face with white powders.

  “It is for me, and other women in the palace,” Lucie said. “It makes you look healthier, more poised.”.

  “Healthier?”.

  “My mother told me, having red face makes suitors more inclined to approach. With the flush, it makes you look livelier.”.

  “I have no plans for a suitor, Lucie.”.

  “Not you, me.” Lucie sighed, “I am making you look like me, and I wear the powder because it makes me look livelier.”.

  Eliza laughed, shaking her head. Never had she found that having exaggeratedly flushed cheeks made you look livelier. When she saw the royal ladies with their red tints, she thought it looked strange.

  “I think I’m ready.” Eliza announced, curling a strand of fake-blonde wig in her finger. The more she stared at her reflection, the more she was convinced that she looked more like Lucie than Lucie did.

  She could remember when she was young, and how nothing and everything had changed between them.

  Little Lucie loved dressing up in fancy frocks and tying ribbons in her hair, and she would spin in circles, pretending she were dancing with a prince.

  Eliza was the opposite; in their youth, Lucie would dance around a tree, imagining she was in a royal ball.

  Eliza would be up the tree, hanging upside down from a branch. One time, she slipped from the tree branch and landed on Lucie: crushing her, and her dreams.

  “Elizabeth?”.

  She spun around, taken from her thoughts. Lucie stood next to her, shaking on her shoulder.

  “Do you remember when we used to play in the tree, when we were young?” Eliza asked, taking the girl by surprise.

  “I do,” Lucie replied. “Especially the day you fell from that tree, crushing me and my dreams.”.

  Eliza laughed, thinking of the day. She had seen her whole life flashing before her eyes, when she came tumbling down from that old tree.
It was easy to imagine how horrified Lucie was, to see her falling atop of her head.

  Lucie reached over, taking hold of Eliza’s old shoes. Her face curled up into a look of disgust, as she held the shoe out at arms’ length.

  “How can you wear these?” Lucie said, awkwardly pulling the on her own feet. She sat on a stool with one foot in the air, nearly toppling herself to the ground.

  “Growing up, I was taught to make use of what I had,” Eliza smirked, “My father would not let you throw away a shoe unless your foot cut a hole in it.”.

  Lucie cringed in disgust, wincing as put half of her foot into the shoe. Eliza, wobbling in Lucie’s heels, knelt ahead of her. Gently, she lifted the maiden’s ankle and pushed her foot into the shoe.

  “It’s only a shoe, Lucie.”.

  “It’s a dirty shoe.”.

  Lucie stood up and walked towards the mirror. Eliza stared after her, still perplexed and how strange they both looked.

  Lucie’s usually bouncing-blonde hair was now a deep brown, and her glimmering dress was abandoned for common villager cloth.

  She wore Eliza’s skirt and blouse, and her face had changed. It was ghostly pale, and her usual rosy cheeks were white and hollow.

  “This is new.” Lucie mumbled, raising her hand to her face. Her eyes fell to the floor, in a disheartening way.