~~~
Over the next few days, Starr never got off her phone or computer. Between Marla, Alex and her lawyers, it was a real circus.
She had all of her belongings expressed over. Then she ordered furniture to make the place appear more lived in.
At night, dreams kept her from resting well. Always they were about things Credenza had done, right there, in the castle. They would have been mostly happy memories, if not for her living as a stranger among them. Father only showed her affection in private, and treated her like a servant in front of others. He didn’t care about her learning to write or speak languages; he only wanted to get her married off as quickly as possible. But even with a large dowry, Lyssa – her name at the time – would marry off as a child of the streets with no family and questionable heritage.
Lyssa was clever, though, and understood from a young age what was going on. She did everything she could to thwart her potential husbands. In that day, it wasn’t hard to do, as a lady only had to put one toe out of line, and it could disgrace her.
Lyssa didn’t care what people thought of her.
To kill time, Starr made it her mission to redecorate the castle. She started by ordering contemporary furniture to update the halls on the lower floors. She wanted to split the library into a drawing room. It was a strange idea, but she liked being around old books. She wanted to receive guests and spend much time there.
Then she bought a baby grand and had it moved into the ballroom. It was the largest room in the house, and twice the size of that at the Council. Not that she planned to have parties ever, but if it looked like she did, it might win her case.
Aside from furniture, there wasn’t much she could do to the castle that wouldn’t change its original structure. She wanted it to be as close to the same as when Credenza was a girl. So instead of wallpaper and paint, she added paintings and photographs to each room. Then she put cheesy trinkets everywhere, like porcelain dolls, statues and quilts, on the upper floors; and bouquets of fresh flowers in all the rooms on the lower floors.
As she went about making all the changes, there was one room that never got her graces. Every time she passed it, her shoulders clenched up. But after a time, it was the only room left in the house that hadn’t been cleaned.
Starr stood in its doorway. It was the room her father, King Decebalus, shared with his concubine, and later, wife, Andrada. She was never named Queen because she was a courtesan, but the king loved her anyway. Despite all the warnings Starr and her half-brother, Dracus, gave, her father still trusted Andrada. He was eventually arrested by the Romans.
History said that he committed suicide, as was custom when such things happened, but Starr, to this day, didn’t believe it. Andrada had it in for the king, a long time, for something he did but no one knew what. And so Andrada betrayed him to the Imperator Trajan – the Roman who took him on his third march.
The many nights she saw her father sleeping by her side disgusted her. Now, after nearly two thousand years, the feeling still remained in the pit of her stomach, twisting like a knife.
Before she knew it, she was in the middle of the room, turning. In the corner, she noticed how a piece of grey stone stuck out. She pulled it out, leaving a small hole in the wall.
Turning it over in her hand, she felt a bit of satisfaction. She tossed it on the floor.
From there, she pulled the larger chunk of stone that rest above it and threw it on the floor, not caring about the damage it did. She pulled again and again. Scrapes and blood covered her hands and instantly healed back, repeatedly.
Several hours went by in this fashion. She ran out of room so she started throwing the rocks onto the hallway floor. Some of them shattered and others bounced and rolled away down the hall.
Starr didn’t know if she hated Andrada or her father more. But that one morning, the last time she saw him, he was kind to her for a change, in front of everyone. He probably knew that his time was up.
She pulled a huge chunk of stone from a lower corner. The hole revealed the room below.
Starr continued pulling the lower stones in a way that she could back slowly out of the room while removing the floor.
She stood back and looked at the room. It looked as if a bomb had gone off, blasting out all of the walls and floor. This pleased her, and for the first time in months, she smiled. That is until she looked up and saw the ceiling.
Starr ran upstairs and moved the furniture out of the room and into the next. Then she began the process of pulling out the floor with her hands.
Hours later, from the hallway, she stared down through missing floor, straight passed her father’s room, and down into the room on the floor below.
Now all she needed was to call a construction crew and have it put back together, only differently.
But how much different would the room be? It would be the exact same position and location, and size, as her father’s room.
Before she knew it, she was back at it, pulling the stones from the walls, making the hole bigger and tearing into all the rooms on the floor. By morning, the entire level of floor was gone.
“Good,” she said. “Might I never be reminded of my father and his whore.”
But then, the whole place started to tremble and shake. The next moment, heavy rock and wood bashed her, repeatedly, over the head. The pain forced her to crouch to the ground, and then face forward onto a pile of debris.