To Love A Bruised Heart

She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. Either Dreaming or dead, Kris was not entirely sure which was the better option after the week she had. What had only seemed like ten minutes ago, the young woman had just closed her eyes for a cat nap in the window seat of a small passenger plane. Now, however, she found herself standing in front of a large lecture hall with dozens of people watching her every move. Gone were the dark jeans and white band tee she had worn for the trip, replaced with a hip-hugging dark pencil skirt and a lavender blouse.

Kris did not have to look down to know her sneakers were gone because she could hear the soft tapping of heels across the floor as she made her way to the podium. Written High on the chalkboard was the phrase. Hera Queen of the Gods, Wronged Wife or Raging Bitch. Greek and Roman-style statues were placed along the wall, and a few antiques decorated display cases near the front.

Why am I back? Was this supposed to be her Friday night Ancient History class? Maybe the trip was a dream? That thought fled from her mind when she saw that the people filling the desks were not her typical students-scattered randomly through the mix of expressionless students. Thomas, Angelia, even that skank Irene. They were all there watching her with looks that boarded between hatred and disappointment. Down in the front row, her Grandmother was lying prone on a dingy off-white hospital bed. The sight made sent a vicious shiver down Kris' spine. Every instinct was pushing her to run to the elder. To be by the woman's side, but her body would not obey. It forced her to continue rambling off her speech and walk around the front of the room.

The more she tried to focus on her namesake, the sicker the older woman became. However, when she finally realized that, Kristianna Sr was reduced to little more than skin and bones. Her pale flesh was marked up by dark blue veins spidering up her arms, and there was a distinctive yellow tint to the whites of her eyes. It was as though she was wasting away right in front of her eyes. The sight made her sick, so she did all she could to focus on a strange shape in the back of the classroom. At first, it looked like a shapeless blob with no definitive markers. After a while, Kris could make out a pair of crossed legs garbed in black dress slacks. Following them up, she watched the rest of the figure take shape. The long torso, broad shoulders, and thick fingers folded delicately in the man's lap. While his face was still shrouded in shadows, Kris could easily see their eyes through the gloom. Bright eyes that seemed to burn with unnamed emotion. Despite their intensity, there was a strange comfort in the warm steely depths.

Letting the rest of the dream slip away, she kept his gaze as her confidence grew. She knew the whole world could fall apart as long as she still held the man's approval. After a moment, he stood and started to walk down the steps toward where she was standing. Kris tried to back up and turn, but she was held captive by the figure's stormy gray eyes. Her surroundings had changed drastically when she remembered the others in the room. The lecture hall had vanished, and she was now in a tiny hospital room. The others circled her Grandmother's hospital bed, each looking extremely worried. Able to move freely, she made her way over to the bed as quickly as possible. Her Grandmother was awake, smiling up at her while she moved her lips. She was trying to speak, but Kris couldn't hear her. She tried to lean in, to get closer so she could listen but a hand wrapped tightly around her arm pulled her back. Turning her head, she looked back at the person keeping her from her family, but the second their eyes met, her world went dark.

Jolting awake, Kris yelped in pain when her shin connected with the bottom of the seat in front of her. The child sitting there looking at her with an expression so adorable and angry that it would have been laughable if the remnants of her dream were not still at the forefront of her mind. The brat's mom and the man on the aisle did not have that problem. They seemed to be very amused by her confused and startling awakening. At least judging by the excessive laughter at her expense. "It's about time you woke up." the middle-aged man added when his chuckles died down. "The pilot just announced our landing."

Had she slept through the whole flight? After all, she had just closed her eyes. But then, it was not the first time a cat nap turned into something more. That would not bother her, but she had lost valuable planning time. Planning time that she would need if she was going to get through her first visit to the Palace. Or would I? She asked herself. None of them knew she was coming. She had made sure of that when she had her friend place her hotel reservation in his name. And unless the Royal Family had flagged her name with immigration, they would not know she even entered the country until it was too late.

From the back of the plane, she could hear one of the flight attendants making their way up the aisle and listening while the woman explained in heavily accented French about the regulations for landing. She was going from row to row to ensure all the passengers adequately buckled into their seats, and the window's blinds were up. Not wanting to be the odd man out, Kris quickly buckled the dark blue belt around her waist and lifted the window cover. When the attendant got to their row and saw this was done, she simply smiled and kept moving toward the front of the plane. Knowing that now she would be left alone, Kris looked out the window at the mountains and valleys below; as much as it pained her to admit it, the sights soothed the knots that had formed at the start of all this. Seven years ago, when she left, Kris had been content to leave Etrovia behind for good. But as the capital city came into view, she realized that no matter how much she tried to deny it, these rolling hills and forests would always be her home.

She watched as the villages and small towns passed by and was happy to see that very little had changed while she was away. The plane touched down a few minutes later, but she did not disembark immediately. Instead, she watched as the thirty other passengers gathered their things. There was no reason for her to rush after all. There was only one task on this God-forsaken island, and the later in the day, the better chance she had to complete it without THEIR interference. When the last passenger left the cabin, Kris stood and shimmied her way out of her row, dragging her carry-on behind her. The French flight attendants were staring at her impatiently, but she ignored them and made her way slowly off the aircraft and down the boarding ramp to the terminal. The second she stepped out of the felt grey hall, the cool air had her reaching to her waist for her sweater, yet she forced herself to stop. While she might be cold now if the look of the sun through the windows indicated, she would perish from the heat if she stepped outside in long sleeves.

Leaving the gate behind, she walked as calmly as possible to the communal waiting area. From somewhere close by, she could smell the sweet scent of Babà, and her mouth started to water. She had not eaten since the flight into Paris six hours ago, making the temptation of the freshly baked treat a bit too much for her. Glancing at the slim wristwatch, she figured she had just enough time to purchase her food and eat it before they started unloading the luggage. After her purchase, she sat at a nearby table and watched as the people rushed around her. Thanks to the upcoming national festival, the small airport was packed this afternoon. All around her, tourists were pushing their way through the crowds, shouting directions to the rest of their groups. Mothers pulled their children along, preventing them from stopping at stalls along the main hall. At the gate, Kris could see families and friends lined up holding signs welcoming a few passengers home. To pass the time while she ate, Kris thought it would be fun to observe the differences between the two groups of travelers.

The Tourists were the easiest to spot. They were loud and dressed utterly out of place. The island of Etrovia was nestled in the Mediterranean, so the heat was next to unbearable on a bright summer day like today. But while it was perfect for those who have lived here all their lives, nonnatives were more often than not wearing colorful colored maxi dresses or flowery print tank tops and shorts. They always looked overheating, and the more heated ones had those small battery-powered fans or spray bottle things.

On the same hand, the Natives were just as easy to point out, mainly because they were dressed in jeans or standard shirts or shorts. Their clothing was also slightly more high-end than that of the tourists. The locals also seemed to know their way around the airport, skipping the information booth and all the little shops and heading to the pickup gate where family and friends waited with signs and welcome home posters.

Kris, well she didn't fit with either group. She was not born here, but after being raised on its sun-drenched shores, so she could handle the heat relatively well. As such, she had dragged on dark faded jeans that seemed to hug her long legs like a second skin. Her top was a thin white tank top with the colossal mosquito logo in the center advertising her favorite band from New York. She did have a sweater slung over her lilac-colored carry-on, but that had only been for the flight. Her long hair was loose around her shoulders rather than tied back in a high pony to save her neck from the heat.

She looked like all the other locals returning from a long trip, with one exception. She didn't have anyone waiting for her. She burned nearly every bridge she left seven years ago, thinking she would never have to return. The only people living here that she cared about were her grandmother and Gemma, and even with them, she was guarded. Hell, she didn't even tell them she was visiting in case THEY found out.

So when she looked out into the gathering crowd, she was stunned to see a man waiting there with her name printed in bold script on a bright white card. Correction, a man in a ROYAL uniform, holding a card with her name printed under the royal insignia. How did they know? It didn't make any sense! In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that the doctor she had been discussing her grandmother's health might have said something. Still, no matter how they knew, the point was they knew, and as a result, her whole trip was thrown off track, and she was now painfully aware of two things.

Not only did they know, but they also wanted her to know they knew. They could have sent a cab or a driver out of uniform to prevent a scene. But sending the chauffeur the way they did was a statement that screamed nothing got by them. It also told her that she had no chance of escaping. This Driver knew her all too well. She wondered if the fear or rebellious hatred in her eyes caused him to start walking toward her through the curious crowd around him. Tourists and locals were angling to see who was important enough to deserve such a royal welcome. "Miss Anna!" he shouted, drawing all eyes to her as he reached out for her bag. "I was beginning to think you missed your flight!" It took a moment for her mind to register through his thick accent that he was speaking English for her, and she smiled and nodded.

Turning her body, she pulled the carry-on away from his searching hand. "Hello, Ellis." Despite trying to keep her voice calm and collected, the raspy quality of it surprised her. Coughing, she cleared her throat. "I got it, old man." But Ellis was not fooled by her halfhearted joke and looked her over with a bit more skepticism. Could he see that her eyes were puffy? That she hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours? Plastering on the sweet smile she had perfected on parents of troublesome students, she continued, "I need to get my other bags from downstairs." To her surprise, he didn't fight with her. He folded the crisp paper sign and followed her out of the secure area. During the baggage claim section walk, Kris tried to talk to him, but the words would not form. She had been away too long. But perhaps the ride to her hotel would be better.

When they arrived in the dimly lit room, she walked down the long line of conveyor belts until she reached the one for her flight. Thankfully the large room was not as populated as upstairs, so she was granted a slight chance to catch her breath and formulate a new plan. Admittedly she should have made a contingency for this. The royal family never let anything get by them. But sending Ellis did not have to be an end-all. It rather worked in her favor since she could now avoid spending her sparse funds on a cab to the hotel. She could always take a bus to the palace after she had settled into her room. Pleased with herself, Kris stood a bit straighter. There, she thought happily, no more issues. Casting her gaze over her shoulder, she watched as Ellis hung back, looking completely out of place as he waited for her.

Ten minutes passed like that, her standing by the belt, watching and waiting, and him off on his own. After a while, she stopped looking at him, trusting that if something were wrong, he would speak up. Finally, one of her suitcases came through the divider. She couldn't see any damage to the hard lavender surface from where she was standing and was exceedingly happy about that. While the large cased had no clothing or electronics, it contained her books. Two of her favorite series and a few other spares were shoved into the case, along with a couple extra pairs of shoes. Her clothing was in the large matching duffle that had yet to appear. Still, one is better than none, she thought as she stepped forward and tugged the heavy bag upward and yanked it toward her, setting it upright on the floor beside her. She could hear Ellis speaking in low tones with someone in Italian. She could only understand snippets of the conversation. The volume of the voice on the other end of the line told her that they were distraught with Ellis for something. Her suspicions were confirmed when he joined her ten minutes later, pushing a luggage trolley in front of him. "Miss Anna, please, I was asked to bring you directly to the palace when you are ready."

She wanted to ask by whom or complain that she had to check in to her hotel, but she doubted she could get anywhere, so instead, she muttered softly that she was still waiting on a bag. She had the entire car ride to convince him to bring her to her hotel instead. "Once I get it, we can go." To make things easier for him, she switched to Italian, but the words felt wrong on her tongue. Even as a child, she spoke English as her primary language. And since the Natives of Etrovia spoke a strange mixture of English, Italian and French, Kris had been able to get by. Except with the Royal Family, of course. They spoke mainly Italian and English due to their roots in old Italian royalty. When she had moved to the palace as a child, Kris remembered fumbling around, trying to understand the musical language. Biting back the bile in her throat at the thought of him, she tried to concentrate on the bags coming down the line. After a moment, she realized that belt had stopped, but her other bag had still not appeared. What else could go wrong? She complained to herself while she looked to Ellis to try to explain. Maybe he had seen the flash of panic on her face. Perhaps he had guessed from the long wait, but whatever the reason, he had anticipated her troubles and motioned over to the claim issues station a few feet away. Forcing herself to nod to him in thanks, Kris walked over to the booth while trying to keep her annoyance in check. She had to remind herself that the pert little redhead behind the counter was not responsible for her troubles. After explaining her situation to the woman in Italian, she was slightly more agitated to hear that her duffle had been one of many bags left behind in Paris due to a lack of space on the small plane. "Of course it was!" she snapped, instantly regretting the outburst. "Sorry long day. So what are my next steps?"

While for all appearances, the redhead, Marina, seemed unaffected by Kris' outburst. But Kris had noticed the subtle narrowing of the eyes and the straightening of the back. "Think nothing of it. We can, of course, deliver your bag to you...." Looking down, Marina pretended to click a few things on her keyboard, "in two days. The next flight is tomorrow morning, and after sorting, we can get your bag to you as soon as possible." Kris watched as the woman reached over to a stack of forms and slid the top packet over to her. "Please fill this out with the address to which you would like the bag delivered."

Right, and in the meantime, I have no clothes. She thought. The packet was long but seemed relatively easy for her to fill out. The only issue she was having was the address itself. She knew that she would be staying officially in the hotel, but her days would be spent with her grandmother at the palace as she thought it occurred to her that the safest option would be to abandon this stupid task and go home. The fates have sent her sign after sign that it was a fruitless effort. But then she remembered her Grandmother and the urgency in the doctor's voice. Quickly she scrawled the pen across the paper and handed it back to the redhead. "Is there anything else?"

It took the woman a few seconds to look up from whatever was captivating her on her screen, but when she did, Kris watched her eyes go wide at the address she asked her to deliver her stuff. It was listed as the security office at the Royal Palace. Knowing she was not dressed as a royal or noble brat, she could hardly question the confusion on the poor woman's face. By now, she figured that Marina would think that she was a new maid or perhaps a cook. Or maybe worse yet, she was the latest plaything of Luciano. Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts, she offered the woman a halfhearted smile and turned to follow Ellis out of the building. The humidity hit her like a wall pulling a gasp from her. Sweat instantly lined her hairline, and she felt immediately uncomfortable in her jeans. Maybe I'm not as used to it as I thought. She grumbled. Ellis leads her a few feet over to a sleek black town car, popping open the trunk for her bag. Once that was secured, she closed the trunk and slid into the backseat. Ellis had already started the car, and he wasted no time pulling out into traffic.