The room was windowless, and all but dark except for the dim ray of light filtering into the room from under the doorway. A wooden ledge ran around the entire room, slightly damp from the water dripping down the stone walls. Musty smelling hay was piled up in one corner, and buried in its depths lay the figure of a girl.
In the half light it was possible to see that she lived, though her breathing was shallow and irregular. Dark stains marked the slip covering her body, and her hair matted with blood. She dozed fitfully, although she was slipping closer and closer to death her mind remained aware of her surroundings and she twitched at every sound coming through the closed door.
Muffled voices filled the corridor outside, coming closer and closer until they paused outside her cell. The girl's head rose slightly from the hay, her swollen eyes opening to watch the door. It remained closed, however, and she did not hear the soft click of the lock opening. Rather, she heard the voices outside continue to speak. The gruff voice of her guard, arguing with the gentle, soothing tones of a woman.
The girl licked her lips, tasting dried blood. Its acrid flavour would normally make her recoil, for she had always felt sick at the sight of blood. Now she simply felt numb, the awareness of what faced her sinking in. She shifted her body clumsily, propping herself up on the wooden ledge above her head. With some effort she managed to haul herself up onto it, into a sitting position.
Almost as soon as she'd stopped breathing heavily from the exertion, the door swung slowly open. The light filtering into the room made her squeeze her eyes in pain; though the light was naught more than a dull candle. A figure obscured the light, and stepped into the room. The smell of blood and disease was strong in the air, and her visitor quickly held a rag to their nose and mouth.
"Who are you?"
Coming to kneel before the girl, the woman who had visited her so many times before, grasped the girl's face firmly with her hands, twisting her head this way and that as though her features would reveal more than the girl herself had done.
"Tell me girl, who are you? I cannot help you if I do not know who you are."
At the girl's bitter, stony silence the woman lashed out, her open palm striking the cold cheek sharply. There was no gentle, soothing voice now.
"You are only making things harder for yourself, why won't you tell me?"
With her small hand nursing her already redeening cheek, the girl opened her eyes to stare at the woman before her. She saw no compassion in the woman's face, only a barely concealed greed. Oh yes, this woman knew who she was. And both knew it would be more dangerous for her to reveal her identity, despite her promises to the contrary. She had promised her father, never to tell a soul who she was. And she had managed many long years in exile, until a few months ago....
~*~
"Sun, my child. Come sit with me awhile, will you?"
Her father sat by the open door, leading out onto the verandah of his studio. Summer's warm breeze drifted in on the evening air, licking at her sweat-lined skin. It was a welcome relief from the heat of the day where no wind had eased the discomfort. As she sat down on the rugs beside him, she shifted the thin dress hanging from her shoulders. The material clung to her skin, and she could only look on in amazement at her father's ability to still wear his heavy robes in such a heat.
He smiled at her, patting her hand gently. But the smile did not reach his eyes. Both father and daughter knew the purpose of this meeting. Silence hung over them, as heady as the scent of magnolia blossoms. Neither wanted to break it, and it wasn't until her father drew an unsteady breath that Sun finally spoke.
"Father, I...."
Squeezing her hand, the old man shook his head. The look he gave her told her all that she needed to know. The family would honour the tradition, and there was naught Sun or her father could do to change things. Hanging her head, the young girl tried to hide her tears with her long, dark tresses. At barely ten years old, she did not look old enough to leave the safety of the nursery, let alone sit here now.
"Sun... if I could, you know I would not ask this of you? But... the family... Your cousin... I have no choice."
Nodding silently, it was her turn to hush her father. She tried to smile around her tears, to be strong for him. With her mother gone, life would be almost as hard for him now.
"Exile is the only choice, Father. My cousin would just as soon have my head on the chopping block, I must flee before she has her wish."
Both were crying freely now, sending her out into the world was almost as bad as sending her to the executioner. But at least she had a chance of survival. If she remained, it would not be long before her cousin; the heir to the family's head, would see to it that there was no chance of survival. Their grandmother was nearing death. Her mother should have been the heir, but with the tragic death of both her mother and aunt the previous year her older cousin had been formally elected by the family. A number of secret attempts had already been made on the child's life but when she officially became the head of the family, her cousin would not tolerate her cousin continuing to live. She was, after all, the rightful heir. And it was only down to her age that she was not Chosen.
"I will leave tonight, Father. I'm sad that I cannot say goodbye to Gran before I go but even this is too dangerous. At least I know she understands..."
Silence again fell of the room, broken only by the mournful sound of an owl on the wing. Its soft hoot echoing the sorrow in their hearts. Kissing each other on the cheek, the girl clung to her father as she said goodbye. He slipped a small purse of coins into her hand, shaking his head when she tried to refuse it.
"You will need money to get by until you find a way of making a living, Sun."
Neither said what they were thinking. How would a ten year old girl find any kind of employment? It was nigh on impossible, even with her talents and training. For certain, she was being sent to her death. Sun smiled awkwardly as she turned to gather what possessions she had packed.
"Do not fret for me, Father. I will find employment soon enough."
As she left the room, night descended in full. Leaving to sit in the darkness, and old man alone and broken with no one to witness the fresh tears pouring down his lined face. Avoiding the servants who were still present Upstairs, she kept to the shadowed halls as she made her way down. Even as she made her escape she heard shouts from the courtyard below. The rough voices of soldiers echoed in the hot chambers. And so, they had come. Lifting the corners of her thin dress, Sun fled down the stairs. The servants and her father could not hide her escape for long, and she had to put far more distance this first night between herself and the home of her childhood than she had ever thought necessary.
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