The Marked Phoenix: Little Red Bird - Chapter 19

The long and frightful night passed peacefully or as peacefully as a slave-trade camp would. No one was forcefully burned with a scorching hot iron that would break the skin and form an ugly scar.

Emerine had survived another night outside of the castle without the comfort that her previous luxurious life offered her. Another night of uneasiness towards her future and another night of wondering what happened to her family and Kalesin.

Her heart gnawed with guilt at the realization that she ended the conversation with her father on such a horrible note. Life was ever so cruel. Whenever you say goodbye, you’re never aware it could be the last goodbye.

Her heart stung at the thought of a forever goodbye from her father. He was unjust in how he treated her, but she could never deny the love he had for her. He might’ve resented everything about her appearance, but he did love her in the best way he knew how to.

Emerine raised her head to stare at the night sky, the same way she had done previously. Midnight used to be so beautiful to her when she was staring at it from out of a window of privilege so high up in the air, she thought she could touch the sky. And perhaps such a thing had happened in her youth.

Distinctively, she remembered a time when she reached for the sky, and the stars waved back. She was so young when it happened that she wasn’t aware of the night the stars reached out toward her, almost as if she could control the Heavens.

– – – – –

Emerine woke up the next morning dazed and unaware of what was going on. She could feel the same pitiful and helpless whispers of the voiceless slaves around her except for the girl who was lucky enough to retain a part of her tongue.

It was such a cruel thought that something as a damaged tongue was lucky, but to many of the slaves who were silenced willingly or unwillingly, it was a privilege to even be able to speak. Perhaps that was why they’d sneak glances at Emerine, glances filled with curiosity, irritation, envy, and all sorts of emotions that she was already so used to.

The girl from the previous night had stopped speaking to her, not that Emerine cared okay, so maybe she cared a little bit since the silence was beginning to rub her the wrong way.

They hadn’t been fed yesterday night, nor had they been fed this morning before all of them were shoved into the wagon with a blindfold covering their eyes.

Emerine didn’t understand what exactly was going on, but from the way her body swayed with each turn, she knew the wagon was beginning to travel. The only question was: To where?

Just as she thought that, the wagon came to a screeching halt. Her body lurched forward and she nearly toppled off her seat and onto an unwanted lap. She was sure the thin and fragile body of these people would never withstand the impact of her fall.

“The boss said it’s time to rest and feed the livestock,” a voice shouted overhead to the other men of this group.

At the mention of food, her stomach painfully grumbled at the mention of feeding. She was so hungry that a dull ache was forming in her lower abdomen. Sometimes survival was more important than dignity. She didn’t expect to learn this the harsh way.

She could hear the clamor of footsteps entering the suffocating wagon. No one cried out in pain, thus Emerine thought the people were being handled properly. She was sorely wrong when a pair of rough calloused hands squeezed the living life out of her arms as it yanked her off her seat and roughly shoved her onto the ground. She then realized that these people were so used to the pain that it didn’t hurt anymore.

A feeling of uneasiness kicked in. Emerine tried to shove it aside and remind her conscience that nothing could be worse than her current situation.

She didn’t even know what her next plan of action was. To run away or not to run away? She could try and lift a rock to smash the chains, but a part of her knew these were no ordinary metal. They must’ve been made of a stronger material, because if not, everyone would have run off by now.

Even if she were to run, where could she go? She didn’t know which part of the country she was in. Which direction could she even run towards? Which was the west, the north, the south, the east? She was utterly hopeless with no plan in mind.

Rudely, the blindfold was tugged off of her without warning and she was suddenly exposed to the glaring sunlight. The atmosphere here seemed different. Her gut feeling told her this place was nowhere near the west. She was far, far away from home. The word “home” was beginning to feel off. Where was home? Was it her destroyed palace? Or was it the Kingdom of the West that didn’t even know the face of their crown princess?

Resentment and regret washed over her, threatening to drown her with negativity. The veil her father had forced her to wear, swearing it was for her “protection,” ironically achieved the polar opposite of its intent. Even though Emerine knew King Augustus made her wear it for his own benefit, she couldn’t help but swallow the lies he fed her.

What she couldn’t swallow was the dirty bowl of food shoved into her hands. “Eat up, slave,” the hobbling woman hoarsely demanded before proceeding to the other slaves and handing out similar, dirty-looking bowls. It wasn’t even considered food, but more of, questionable liquid with weird floating things on the surface. Is is that a feather?

Emerine resisted the urge to gag and throw up. She wasn’t even sure if she had any contents in her stomach to throw up. “You’re actually going to drink this slum water?” she whispered to one of the slaves beside her, fully unaware of how ignorant her words sounded, for she was now, one of them.

Outstanding titles were just meaningless words granted by people who believe they’re better than others.

Soon, she would learn exactly why she was the prime example and victim of such a thing. Without her title as the Crown Princess, she was nothing. The sooner Emerine realized that, the better.

The slave beside her didn’t answer nor did he have the guts to raise his scrawny head. He kept it down and dutifully gulped down the liquid as if it was the most delicious thing in the world. Her bewildered face must’ve thrown the hobbling woman off because she trampled straight towards Emerine and demanded, “Is there a problem?”

Emerine pressed her lips together and debated on how she should break the news to the woman that her cooking was disgusting, but she wisely kept that comment to herself.

“What’s the problem, Cook?” the leader approached as he placed a gloved hand onto the woman’s fragile shoulders. He observed the situation and was not surprised to find the troublemaker to be the same girl who caught his interest.

“I see, it’s this problematic one isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for the cook to respond before snatching the bowl from Emerine’s grasp.

Emerine glanced at her empty hands, then back up at him, then back up at her hands. She didn’t know if she should feel relief or irritated by him.

“Yes. She’s not eating.”

“Well, she could lose a few pounds,” he laughed at the animosity that quickly swarmed Emerine’s eyes. What an open book this little fool was. She wore her emotions on her sleeves.

The leader shook his head. “Well, regardless, food shouldn’t be wasted.” Once again, he grabbed Emerine, but this time she stupidly dodged his hand. The group fell into heavy silence at her blatant disobedience. His pleasant face twitched. In a blink, he was right in front of her face and he did not look pleased.

“I knew you should’ve been taught a lesson. You’re right, goods shouldn’t be damaged, but they can most definitely be roughly handled.”

Emerine was familiar with well-composed anger. She was familiar with the calm before the storm, but she was not used to the type of disaster it would bring. So when he snatched her by her throat then squeezed her cheek to force her mouth open, her eyes widened in shock.

In a futile effort, she tried to struggle against him and even thought about kicking his dingleberries but all of that would be a plea for death. So, she forced herself to be still even if it was just a second. Immediately, she regretted it when he grabbed the bowl and poured the contents down her throat. She screamed, but that only caused her to choke.

Violently, her body thrashed, but he seemed unfazed by her. Half the contents were poured down her throat and the other half poured onto her face, dirtying it further.

By the time they were done, she was a gasping and coughing mess on the floor. The bowl thudded beside her while she entered a fit of coughs. The entire time she struggled for air.

She had never felt so offended. She had never felt more like an animal until she was forced-fed. And with a heave for air, hatred built up within her, threatening to explode. And with each cough, the anger simmered down into uncertainty.

As she trembled to keep her pride, her fiery soul was threatened to be distinguished.