Chapter 4 Total Mess

Chapter Four: Total Mess

And so, that narrow ventilation shaft deposited Neria into a massive, steam-filled chamber with a massively-loud thud. 

She landed on a pile of linens, the leather bag containing the dragon egg bounced painfully against her hip. 

‘Of course,’ Neria thought, peeling a wet bedsheet off her face. ‘My escape leads me directly into the royal laundry. My life truly is a cycle of rinse and repeat.’

“You there! Why are you lounging on the linens?” a shrill voice barked.

Neria scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over the strap of her bag. A stout woman with arms the size of hams and a face like a bulldog stomped toward her. 

This was the Head Laundress, and she looked like she ate clumsy girls for breakfast.

“I... I tripped!” Neria squeaked, trying to tuck the glowing bag behind her shredded silk skirts.

“Tripped? You look like you fell through a chimney and landed in a briar patch,” the woman spat, squinting at Neria’s ruined gown. “And why are you dressed in noble rags? Wait, are you one of the new girls from the village?”

“Yes! Exactly. I’m Ne-, Jesia. The, uh, very clumsy new girl,” Neria said, forced into a bobbing curtsy that caused the egg to thud loudly against the floor.

“What’s in that bag? It sounds like you’re carrying a boulder,” the woman demanded, reaching for the strap.

“It’s my... orthopedic pillow!” Neria blurted out, hugging the bag to her chest. “I have a very bad neck. It’s a family heirloom. Extremely heavy. You wouldn't want to touch it, it’s covered in... contagious neck-germs.”

The woman recoiled, looking disgusted. “Keep your germs to yourself. If you’re here to work, get to the vats. We have a thousand capes to scrub before the Prince’s coronation hunt tomorrow.”

“A thousand?” Neria whispered, her eyes widened instantly.

“Move it! Or I’ll scrub your face with the lye!”

Neria scurried toward a bubbling vat of soapy water, her heart was beating aggressively against her ribs. She needed a way out, but the only exit was guarded by two armored men who were currently checking the identifications of every servant leaving the wing.

“Check the baskets!” a guard’s voice came from the hallway. “The Prince wants the thief found. If she’s hiding in the laundry, she’s as good as dead.”

Neria froze like a snowflake. She looked at the giant wooden baskets filled with clean, folded tunics. If she hid in one, she’d be found in seconds. Then, looked at the boiling vats. If she dropped the egg in there, she’d have a boiled dragon.

“Hey, new girl! Stop daydreaming and help me with these capes!” a young laundry boy shouted, shoving a mountain of heavy crimson fabric into her arms.

“Wait, these go to the delivery wagons, right?” Neria asked, an idea sparked through her panic.

“Yeah, to the barracks outside the city walls. Why?” the boy asked, wiping soap from his brow.

“No reason! I just love... delivery wagons,” Neria muttered.

She began stuffing the crimson capes into a large wicker crate, but as she worked, the bag at her side began to vibrate. A muffled, high-pitched chirp echoed from the leather.

“Did you hear that?” the boy asked, frowning.

“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything!” Neria replied loudly, starting to hum an off-key tune. “Maybe it was a... a pipe? The plumbing here is very vocal!”

“It sounded like a bird,” the boy insisted, stepping closer to her bag.

“It’s my stomach! I’m very hungry!” Neria yelled, shoving a cape over his face to distract him. “Go get more soap! We’re running low on bubbles!”

As soon as the boy stumbled away, Neria scrambled into the crate. She curled her body into a ball, clutching the heavy egg-bag to her stomach. 

Piling the heavy, damp capes over her head until she was buried in a mountain of red wool. It was hot, cramped, and smelled like a wet sheep, but it was a hiding spot.

“Load 'em up!” the Head Laundress shouted.

Neria felt the crate being lifted. Her stomach dropped as the basket swayed precariously.

“Oof! This one is heavy,” a guard grunted. “What did they put in here? Lead weights?”

“Just the winter capes, you lazy lout!” the laundress barked. “Get them on the wagon before I report you for loitering.”

Neria felt the crate thud onto a wooden surface. A moment later, the creak of wheels and the clip-clop of horses began to vibrate through the floorboards. She was moving and actually getting out.

‘I did it,’ a thought escaped her mind. ‘I’m a genius. I’m the queen of escape.’

Suddenly, the wagon lurched to a violent halt.

“Halt in the name of the Crown Prince!” a voice commanded.

Neria’s blood turned to ice. She knew that voice already.

“Your Highness!” the driver stammered. “We’re just taking the laundry to the barracks.”

“Search the wagons,” Sebastian sounded cold, coming from right beside the crate. “I don't care if you have to unroll every sock. If Neria Virethorn is in there, I want her dragged out by her hair.”

Neria squeezed her eyes shut, hugging the egg. ‘Please don't sneeze. Please don't sneeze.’

A spear tip suddenly pierced through the wicker of her crate, missing her ear by an inch. Neria bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, refusing to make a sound.

“Nothing in this one but wet capes, sire,” a guard reported.

“Check again,” Sebastian commanded. “I can smell her.”

‘He can smell me?’ Neria panicked. ‘Is that a royal power or is the lye soap just not working?’

Just then, the egg in her arms let out a loud, distinct, and very happy burp.

The silence that followed was the most terrifying thing Neria had ever experienced.

“What,” Sebastian whispered, dangerously close to the crate, “was that?”

“The... the wagon axles, sire!” the driver yelled, his voice started shaking. “They need greasing! They make all sorts of... gassy noises!”

“Move,” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

Neria felt the weight of the capes being lifted. Light began to bleed through the fabric. She was seconds away from a very public execution.

‘Think, Neria! Be clumsy! Be weird!’

As the final cape was pulled back, Neria didn't wait to be caught. She burst out of the crate like a jack-in-the-box, covered in soap suds and tangled in a red cape that made her look like a very disheveled servant.

“Bleh!” she screamed, throwing a handful of wet laundry at the Prince’s face.

The shock was enough. Sebastian was momentarily blinded by a soapy tunic.

“Drive!” Neria shrieked at the terrified driver.

She grabbed a stray whip and cracked it over the horses' heads. 

The animals bolted, the wagon fishtailing wildly as it sped through the palace gates. Neria tumbled back into the crates, the wind whipped her hair as she watched the stunned Prince stand in the middle of the road, peeling a wet cape off his head.

“I’m alive!” she yelled, clutching the egg. “I’m still alive!”

The egg pulsed with a warm, violet light, almost as if it were laughing with her.

But then…it turned very…very…warm.

“It’s burning!”