Sunny - Mona Lisa Darkening

Anger flared in the bull dheu's eyes. But instead of striking Mona Louisa, he wrapped huge fingers around her jaw. Both Mona Louisa and I felt the punishing power in that grip. "If you wish to keep your lovely face intact, do not presume to issue me orders."

Wisely, Mona Louisa kept her mouth shut.

"Bring her," he snarled at Miles. Releasing our face, he and the others strode away.

"Milady," Miles said, kneeling back beside us. "I must straighten your leg before it begins to heal."

The lower half of my right leg was bent out at an angle that no normal leg should have been able to achieve. Mona Louisa stared down at it unflinchingly. I, on the other hand, felt my stomach pitch and heave at the gross sight. Trying to stand on it had definitely not been one of my better ideas.

Mona Louisa nodded her consent and much too soon, before I was ready, Miles realigned the broken pieces with one sharp pull. Outwardly, Mona Louisa didn't make a sound. Inside, I screamed for the both of us.

Miles ripped off his sleeves, tore them into four strips, and used his sword and sheath to splint our leg. His bared arms showed the same repulsive growth that was sprinkled on his face. Mona Louisa stared fixedly at the unsightly blemishes, her jaw clenched tight, as he moved to our left leg and examined it. "Did this leg pain you when you stood?"

"Yes."

"Then the long bone is likely cracked, but still intact."

Exactly what I had deduced without all that poking and prodding.

"Hold on to me, milady," Miles said, and lifted her into his arms with gentle care. It was one of the most bizarre things, to be carried by your enemy, held so tenderly by him. I felt emotion move like a soft wave in Mona Louisa, and she lifted a hand, ran it lightly over the ugly, bumpy growth that had begun to crust over Miles's face. No words. But that touch was an unspoken apology. Not for the part she had played in his death — that she still believed had been her right as Queen, to command and have him blindly obey. But remorse for his death… yes, she felt that now when she hadn't before.

"I'm sorry that you are here in this realm," she whispered. "But I am glad that I am not alone."

Good old Mona Louisa, I thought. Selfish as always.

Mile's reaction, though, was vastly different. He stopped, held motionless for a second, as if he wasn't used to having her apologize or speak to him so. Or maybe he simply hadn't expected her to touch him, as blemished as he was. With that same careful gentleness, he turned his face and brushed his lips lightly against her fingers, before continuing to walk.

You're wrong, she thought. I'm different. Such words and action are not my usual habit or inclination. More like yours. She seemed surprised, thoughtful. It seems inhabiting the same flesh, sharing your thoughts and emotions, as well as your body, has affected me more than I was aware of.

It didn't cost you much, did it, I asked, that gesture, those words?

Kindness is not my usual nature. She spoke matter-of-factly. But it is yours.

Not always, I answered, thinking of the brutal, violent part of myself that was emerging.

No, not always. I am quite aware of your ruthless side. But even that you wield for others, which is very odd. Against our nature.

Her comment puzzled me. Why ?

Because it is not conducive to survival.

Her answer shut me up. I couldn't argue against that, not considering where I was.

In the fifteen minutes it took us to catch up to the others, both of my legs had healed. The swelling was absorbed, the bruising faded away at a far more rapid speed than I was used to. She wiggled her toes and we felt no pain. Sweet.

"I am healed," she said. "Put me down."

Miles stopped but didn't set her down. "We are almost to the others. If I may, I would like to hold you a little bit longer."

Not carry. But hold.

He stood, waiting silently for her reply, and again she surprised me… and perhaps herself. She nodded her consent.

Miles hesitated, as if expecting her to abruptly change her mind. When she didn't, he continued walking.

As you said, came her voice inside me, it does not cost me much. He serves me still. Gives me care and respect when he no longer needs to. A moment more in his arms is not much to give in return.

What? I asked dryly. You no longer consider his services, his respect, your simple due?

Her answer was pragmatic. It is a different realm, with different rules and different rulers. The only thing familiar to me is this man who carries me and the three others who once served me. Her next thought was more misty feeling than actual words. Small wonder that I should want his arms around me longer for comfort. To cling as he does, to what is familiar.

Lucky you, I whispered, feeling true envy. I had nothing. Everyone that I had loved was gone — my life, my people, my lovers. Even Halcyon and Gryphon were lost to me. Being dead in the Cursed Realm sucked.

Yes, it does came her agreement. But her hand stroked that blond hair and through our shared feelings, I knew that even caked with dirt, the strands still retained a hint of their silky softness. The part of me that was Mona Louisa remembered doing that in the past, stroking her fingers over her men's hair, part ownership, part simple enjoyment of the soft sensation.

Miles released a soft sigh.

The sounds and scent of blood grew stronger as we crested a ridge and saw the others. The more senior soldiers walked ahead, while Gilford, Demetrius, and Rupert herded the captives from behind. The frequent crack of their whips drove the prisoners at a fast, shuffling pace. All the prisoners were roped together, even the two men forced to carry the limp form of the unconscious man the inmate had beaten to a pulp. They were tethered to their burden, one roped to the unconscious man's bound hands, the other to his feet. If they tried to run, they wouldn't get far, not roped as they were to their heavy burden. The inmate and the two others struck down by swords stumbled along, hunched over, pushed and pulled by the other prisoners tied in front of them and behind them.

"They are not healed yet like I am," Mona Louisa observed.

"Humans heal slower and are less strong than Monère. The same in death as it was in life," Miles said, setting her on her feet. The gentle, careful way he handled her touched her against her will.

You have made me softer , she hissed.

Sometimes you find greater strength, greater power in softness, I replied.

Miles knelt, unknotting the cloth ties and removing the sword splint from her leg. I — or Mona Louisa, rather — walked the rest of the distance on our own two healed legs.

Gilford, Demetrius, and Rupert glanced back and saw her. Startled, shocked expressions crossed their faces, almost as if they were seeing a ghost.

Mona Louisa laughed in my mind. They are, silly Mixed Blood. They are seeing a ghost.

They almost knelt, a knee-jerk reaction that had carried over from life into death. They were stopped by a low growl from Pietrus, who watched us. They dipped their heads down instead.

"Milady," Gilford said respectfully as we walked up beside him. Sliding off the extra supply sack he had carried on his shoulder, he passed it to Miles. "What of the other Queen that we saw, Mona Lisa?" Gilford asked in a low voice.

A brief, awkward moment of silence, before Miles said, "She shares the same body as our Queen."

"Cursed Light!" Gilford exclaimed softly. "So what the other prisoners said about her is true — that she is two people in one."

Apparently Juan and Charles had tattled on me. So much for loyalty, I thought.