Mica gasped as the blanket was torn from her body and tossed to the side.
"What are you–"
"You missed breakfast." The voice stated, a simple fact.
She blinked and squinted through the dull sunlight at the figure standing at the foot of her bed watching her with an unimpressed look. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands and yawned wide enough to crack her jaw.
"What?"
"You missed breakfast."
Mica rolled over onto and began to curl into herself with a sigh, "... mkay."
There was a brief silence before she felt the air shift and a low growl erupt from the person.
Her eyes snapped open when a rough hand curled around her wrist and jerked her upright– the motion sharp enough to cause her wounded chest to burn as the healing wound tore slightly.
The pain was jarring.
"Hey!" Her breath caught.
The face was pressed up against her own so close his nose brushed her own, felt the delicate edges of whiskers that grew from his cheeks. Mica stared into bright yellow eyes misted over with disgust.
"Get up." Issachar growled.
Mica could not speak, not when he was close enough for her to smell blood on his breath and feel the edge of his claws dangerously dig into the skin of her wrist.
"You will not be found shirking on your duties from now on lest you be punished for it." His eyes flicked towards her chest where pale yellow pus had begun to spread over the tunic she wore.
"Do you hear me?"
Mica bit her inner cheeks to still the tremors of pain that radiated from her wound. She felt the warm trickle of blood down her belly. When she did not answer, his grip on her wrist tightened.
"Slave."
"I hear you." She grit out and rubbed at her wrist when he released her.
Issachar walked towards the door casting her a look from over his shoulder, "Get dressed in a clean tunic. Your duties are awaiting you."
"I don't–" she paused and looked away when he waited at the door. It was humbling, this admittance of confusion and loss, especially to him. Mica worked her teeth back and forth then sighed, "I don't know where to go from here."
"Look for lady moon, she will have your duties."
Lady moon was exactly how her name described her; with a face as round as the moon and the surface textured with uneven gulleys of ripped flesh long and faded. She stood in a pristine servant's clothing ironed to a sharp edge.
In her hands was a bundle of bedsheets layered and tall.
Mica nearly stumbled under the weight of the load deposited on her outstretched arms. She huffed and steadied her footing, wondering how the thin-reed lady was able to carry such a load with ease.
Lycan.
"Make your way to the upper chambers, the beds need a fresh set." SShe said without preamble, then turned on her heels and disappeared down the halls.
Mica stood there for a drawn breath.
She craned her head around then spoke into the lonesome space.
"Where are the upper chambers?"
It took her longer than necessary to find what lady moon had been speaking about. Climbing up winding stone steps that were cold beneath her bare feet, she would pause around the corners and glance about expecting a finger to appear and point the way.
By the time she found the room her biceps were aching from the weight of the sheets, and a flush bloomed across her cheeks.
"Helpful." She muttered while stepping inside and leaning against the heavy door whilst catching her breath.
"Remove the old beddings, put new ones. That's it."
The chore seemed simple enough, until she noted the size of the bed at the center of the room. It was a heavy oak set with a dark polish and the width nearly half the room.
Her forearms broke into gooseflesh as she noted how cold this room was in comparison to the castle.
Mica stepped forward cautiously, curious eyes swivelling about the spartan yet opulent room. From the luscious gowns spread out on a divan, she could tell it belonged to a woman.
The queen.
"Remove the old beddings, put new ones. That's it." She chanted while gripping the corner of the bedsheets and tugging sharply.
She stilled as something drifted along her periphery.
Mica squinted at the long scale-like skin that was placed on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward curiously, slowly maneuvering around the bed for a better look at the item.
Her eyebrows rose. "Snake skin?"
Raw and cold and dead to the touch. As if there had been a serpent that had shed its skin on the bed.
Did the queen have a snake?
Suddenly she felt as if an ice hand had been placed on her chest; the delicate exhale of air along her nape raising her hackles.
Mica glanced over her shoulder at the wall. Where she had briefly felt a pair of eyes watching.
There was nothing.
She returned to the bed, quickly stripping the sheets and nudging the skin onto the floor. She changed the beddings in a hurry, distinctly aware of a presence yet there was none.
Reaching for the door handle with the crumpled bundle of beddings in her hands, she paused for a breath and glanced at the opposite corner where the divan was; a turquoise blue furniture of strange material.
Mica didn't know why she had chosen to stare at it in particular and she considered looking away but her gaze held steadfast.
Waiting.
Until she saw the movement.
The material where one lay began to dip as if someone had sat on it.
But it was not someone for the shape seemed to grow longer, its presence pressing on various sides and lengths.
Taking the shape of a snake.
Mica didn't wait for it to materialize any further. Grabbing the doorknob she yanked it open and began to rush out—
When she slammed into someone.