Brown Skin by Timaira Smith (bearly read books .txt) 📕

you? And protect my absence from the entire kingdom, understand?" Lillian put a shaky hand on Macy's shoulders. Macy nodded her head reassuringly.

"I will protect you with my life." She gave her one more small hug then opened the door for her. They both searched the halls for signs of any activity. Macy gave her a firm push on the back and Lillian hurriedly slipped out into the hall. "Through the door that leads to the gardens, and fast!" Macy whispered as loud yet silently as she could. She watched Lillian turn the corner, saying a silent prayer for her.


The night was chill, low thunder could be heard in the distance. Lillian quickly ran through the grasses and pathways of the garden, lifting up her skirts and looking alert at her surroundings. She stopped as she stared at the giant iron gate that led to the back road to the village. She pulled her sleeves back and wrapped her long fingers around the rusting bars and attempted a push. SCCREEEEEECHHHHH! She jumped and nearly ran at the sound. She quickly looked around, making sure no one heard the bars scrape the cobblestone ground. She looked around the gate to see if there was any hole to squeeze through. Seeing that there was none, she gave a slight whimper of worry. She looked back at the gate, looking at the space in between the bars. Very little but she had to try. Sucking in her breath and holding her breasts as close to her chest as she could she pushed her upper body through the bars. She struggled for what seemed like forever, when finally half of her body was through. Taking an exasperated breath she then had to pull her wide hips and large bottom through the bars. Bracing her hands on the bars she pushed off of them, wiggling her hips sideways and back ways to pull herself through. She fell through with a loud thud. She silently rejoiced as she got up off the ground and dusted herself off. Her joy was short lived for when she looked down at her dress she saw grass and mud stains from the morning rain on the lightest parts of her skirt. She tried to dust them off, cursing the weather and environment for doing such a painful act, but then remembered the time. She pushed past her pride, picked up her dirty skirts and ran with all of her might.

She had never forgotten the village, as she ran down the roads of the town she took in a breath of fresh air. She made sure she took time to look at the buildings, the old bakeries and silversmith shops as she ran. It seemed her childhood was running with her as she reminisced the moments she had on these grounds. She turned down a street and looked at the old houses. Her heart began running wilder for many reasons. She was very close to old abandoned church which meant that she could almost smell King Troy's musky and masculine scent, and see his gorgeous blue eyes again. But what distracted her from the soon reuniting of her and her love was the fact that she was in the very part of the village that she was born and raised in. "The outskirts of the village", the king called it. It truly fit that name. She slowed down her pace to a brisk walk as she had flashbacks into her past...where her friends lived, where the poor english people that despised her family lived. She walked, slowly stopping as she paused in front of what she expected to be the most run down and worn looking house. Her house. But it was not the house she expected or remembered. She gasped, it was not a house at all any more...but now a pile of ashes. Her childhood, her old life before court life...burned to the ground. She resisted running inside, looking for her mother. But her spirit stopped her, forcing her to face the truth that her mother is gone, and so was her family, her oldest memories and the old her. Tears did not run down her face anymore. Her heart stopped racing so fast. Her knees nearly buckled, half of her was prepared to stay in that spot for eternity, missing the less complex life that she was raised in. But her heart began to speak to her. It told her to turn her back and continue to run, her womanhood was calling her to a bigger and better life. Full of a different kind of love that her mother never taught her. She forced herself to turn around, and began to run again. She took one last passing glance at her old life. She shed one tear that fell onto the dirt road. She looked in front of her and with a new determined stride, smiled at the view of the old door to the abandoned church. She was so blinded by how close she was she did not see a person wearing a dark hood in front of her. They collided and both fell backwards.

"I am so sorry, I apologize, I did not see you" Lillian quickly got up and almost yanked the person up. As soon as they were helped up Lillian began to run again. The person confusedly turned around to watch her run.

Rebeca lowered the hood off of her, shaking her blonde hair out freely. "Oh it is certainly alright, it is quite alright." She whispered. An evil smile grew across her ruby red painted lips. Deep Into the Trees, My Love

Lillian fell to the floor with a loud thud. The heavy stone doors of the church slammed shut behind her, with the door closed, all hints of light was shut out, she was in the complete dark. She struggled to her feet, it was so dark she could not see what to dust off on her dress, if there was even anything on it. She cursed herself for being so unpresentable, she was flawless leaving her quarters. In the dark she reached up and redid the french bun in her thick wavy hair, she hit at her skirts to dust all she can off. The butterflies in her stomach were swarming now, her heart racing, her knees shaking. She felt tiny yet long droplets of her own sweat run down her neck into the crevice of her breasts. She wiped it off and shook off her fear. She charged down the middle isle with her hands out in front of her, feeling the walls and objects that would stand in her way. She started to walk slower as the darkness turned from a light blue to a pitch black. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of her frantic breathing and the thumping of her heart deep in her chest. She tried to remember her way around the church, but it was so dark, it effected her memory. She stopped walking and looked around her. Nothing but black surrounded her. She lifted her hand in front of her face and for the first time could not see herself. She began to feel frightened. She debated on calling out the king's name, or even the name of the old priest that ministered there, if he was still there. She paced slowly. Outside, a low rumble of thunder crashed in the sky.

This old church was full of memories, and full of giant empty space, even in the days of her childhood. She remembered Priest Gene's sermons on not being set on material things, focusing only on necessity, therefore not having any ties to any earthly things when it came time to go to glory. She remembered sitting on those old wooden pews as a child, listening to his broad yet calming voice. She especially was fascinated on his messages on love. She remembered the story he told his congregation, about the mysterious girl named Alana who in a few days allowed him to fall desperately in love with her. He admitted to the church his natural feelings and the secret rendezvous they had. Then he was called into priesthood, which forbad him to marry. The night he was going to explain to her what could never happen with them she disappeared, seemingly off the face of the Earth. She remembered watching the tears strike in his eyes, and wondering what it felt like to have a piece of your heart taken and be missing. But now she knew, she knew that pain of the love that could never be, the desire to get married but the opposition overpowering your will, she knew. She knows...but she will now choose to push past it, for love is patient and love never ends.

She began to try to think on the letter, the king said the back of the church, surely she was there by now after wondering blindly for these last wasted minutes. Feeling officially lost she finally decided to call out.

"My lord? My lord I am here! Please show me where you are, I am not a good companion of the dark!" She waited in the silence, straining to hear anything. Suddenly she heard a growing tapping sound, escalating louder and louder until it was followed by a small dim light in the dark. She walked towards the sound and the light until she recognized a small candle shape, but the dark shadows of fingers holding it still could not be identified with the person whom they belonged too. She stopped and waited for the floating candle to get close to her, she began to feel a new presence in the air, followed by a very familiar scent. The mystery hand reached out and took hers, she gasped for she could not see the presence moving."My lord?"

"I would have waited many years if that is how long it would have taken to feel your delicate palm inside my hand again." Her heart dropped at the sound of her love's voice. She held tight on that familiar hand and began to walk forward, allowing that familiar force of love guide her past the old obstacles of the church. As she walked she involuntarily watched the dancing flicker of the candle light in the king's hand. Her mind began to wonder back towards the moments when she first encountered fire. The time when she was burned as a child before learning the life lesson of fire being something not to touch. Then into more recent times, in front of the king's fireplace, the passionate kisses and touches exchanged in front of that waltzing flame. It soaking up the lover's sounds they made, the strains of the passionate tension that they struggled to hold back. All those precious nights where they could have followed through with what their bodies desired but ended up just cuddling in soft sleep. And now that guiding flame of fire that stood in the strong hands of her love was foreshadowing something new and unknown. She did not know how to prepare, but