She walked along the echoing hallways from end to end from the time she woke up and until the time she laid down on her pallet in the great room of the hall. In wintertime the granite floor tiles became blocks of ice. In summertime, she laid her cheeks on their cool surface as relief from the blazing sun.
Often in the nice weather she would hear birds busily chatting about their business. It surprised her to learn just how much they had to discuss. Once in awhile she would see them perched in the trees or hopping about in the grass, pecking at seeds or pulling worms from the soil. She would call to them sometimes, trying to bring them closer but when she did they flew away.
She missed being free. Her prison was a palace, but it was a prison first. She wanted to spread her wings and glide over mountains again. As much as she tried to explain to her captors, she had no idea the young man riding the ridge was the King’s son and the palomino he was riding was the King’s prize stallion, or she might have chosen different courses for dinner that afternoon.
Fandango is the host of Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.