SETH SPOTS GAYA in the garden from his physician’s study on
the third storey. She’s looking as beautiful as ever –even with the
blandest palace wear of a servant.
Seth had always loved Gaya –she is, to him, the best part of
being at the palace. As lifelong friends, he had never imagined he
would be working so closely to her –such a reality caused him
only to fall for her more. Even so, however, Seth could never
bring himself to confess his feelings to her. Seth had kept quiet
about it all –he kept quiet when she cried over the man she had
ended up marrying –he kept quiet and attended to her when she
had given birth to her daughter, Avie, he had kept quiet when
Gaya lost her husband and Avie lost her father. He had kept quiet
all this time.
Seth had always wondered why he was never brave enough to
tell her the truth, but as the days draw closer to the end of the life
of the ill ruler, Seth has realised something.
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He may not have had the opportunity to ever be with her,
simply because he was meant to be brave enough to do something
else; to kill the king.
Seth never considered murder –he was never one to plot against
anyone, but from the moment his fears of the political nightmare
were confirmed he knew something had to be done to fix it, and
he knew all too well that no one would try to fix it properly.
Fixing the situation would mean people would get hurt, someone
would die, others might be accused and killed, and it would seem
like there would be chaos in not only the palace but the entire
kingdom for a very long time.
So, swallowing the truth of what he had once hoped would be
his life, Seth chooses to forget his love for Gaya, hoping to keep
her out of the mess he has already started.
Lydia, the servant of the Queen who had been assigned to pour
the vile of ‘medicine’ into the king’s tea, walks into Seth’s office.
She bows and smiles at the doctor.
“Sir,” she says, “the king requests that you would visit him
soon.”
Seth, blinking at the young girl, wonders how Queen Ericia
could possibly hire such young women to attend to the king, and
how she could rotate the workers so often.
“I will be right there,” says Seth to her. “Please do prepare us
some herbal teas. You know the one, I assume.”
“Indeed I do, Doctor,” she says, bowing.
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As Seth stands and packs his things, Lydia takes a quick glance
around the room, finding viles of medicinal supplements and
other valuable liquids. No matter how many times Lydia stares at
the vile she was given by the Queen, she cannot find a difference
from the ones in the doctor’s office. They are of the same tint,
and are covered by the same cork. They must smell as highly
concentrated as the ones she’s seeing before her. Lydia turns and
exits before Seth does hoping not to seem suspicious. When she
bends the corner, she pulls the vile from her apron pocket and
stares at it –it’s only half full now. She had already used so much
in the king’s tea. Lydia can’t help but question its contents,
though she shouldn’t, and she drops the vile back into her pocket,
hurrying to fetch the tea.
***
Henry awakes with the worst headache, sitting up on his bedwith a throbbing head, and forcing himself to his feet to drag his
body over to the bathroom. He takes as long as he possibly could
to finish having a bath, and by the end of it, while he’s changing
into his formal wear, he stares at himself in the mirror –his eyes
lacking life and almost entirely red, his cheeks flushed. He sniffles,
though he doesn’t exactly have a cold, and by the time he starts to
fix his hair, he remembers everything.
He remembers the announcement; the way May had danced; the
way he had so terribly mistaken her for Ericia; the faintish
flashback of what May had said; what had made him pull May out
of the room, push her against the wall and kiss her senselessly
thinking that she was Ericia.
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He remembers it all.
Henry feels his knees go weak for the first time in a long time.
They don’t go weak because of the alcohol; they go weak because
he is remorseful of what he had done. The weight of the wrong
suddenly pulls him and he drops to his knees in front of the
mirror, unable to breathe. His jaw is dropped, his eyes fixed
deeply within themselves through the reflection in the mirror, his
hands slightly swaying by his sides, unable to move at his will.
Henry remembers what had happened after he had kissed May,
passionately, unable to resist the temptation through the Princess’
deceit, paired with an overdose of wine.
He had taken her to his room –he had stripped her of her clothes
–he had pulled the tie from her hair and tossed her corset, her
undergarments, her accessories, mindlessly about the room –and
then he had pushed her onto the bed... and if all of that hadn’t
been horrid enough, everything thereafter had been an awful
mistake.
So where was May now? She had taken all of her clothes and
jewellery and left him in his room to remember everything –to
soak in his own misery, and soon she would remind him of the
error of his ways in a teasing, seemingly flirty manner to not only
annoy and attack him, but to further anger Queen Ericia, and to
further endorse her brother.
Henry can hear the soldiers on the ground floor, practicing,
groaning, yelling, laughing, and for a few moments all the sounds
around him shut out. He tries desperately to gather himself –to
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gather his thoughts and his emotions and toss them to the wind –
to clear his mind and return his focus to the army-related
business.
Without fail, Henry eventually convinces himself that he cannot
escape what is to come. He lifts his head, adjusts his appearance in
the standing mirror once more, and leaves his room.
***
Ericia takes a walk around the palace –she passes the kitchen,the dining room, the pool, the gym, and walks outside and into
the garden. She can spot Rowan in the courtyard. Though he’s
being productive at his very best sport –exercise, he’s speaking
with a servant, organising a period in which he would write to his
parents. Ericia walks towards him, just as he’s pushing himself off
the floor for the last time.
“Ericia,” says Rowan, cheerfully. “My lovely, radiant Queen,
how are you today?”
“I’m quite wonderful,” says Ericia, acting flawlessly.
“I assume you heard the announcement last night,” says the
Prince, sitting on the bench nearby. “Though I was disappointed
that I hadn’t been able to locate you after our dance.”
“My sincerest apologies, good Rowan, I had returned to the
palace to see that the servants were alright. They weren’t all
enjoying the luxury of a dance, after all.”
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“Always the most considerate,” says Rowan to the Queen, in
admiration. “If you had been there during the announcement, I
would have liked you to say something for yourself. You would
have seen my sister dance as well. Her performance was intended
to be a gift for us.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Ericia says, “Forgive me. I’m sure I will have
many opportunities to see her perform in the future, however. I
am not at all worried.”
Ericia suddenly realises something; she realises that when
Rowan had inquired about her keeping her promise to him, and
asking about the bluntness of his words, Rowan had probably
believed that she would agree with anything he would say. At the
dance, Rowan hasn’t bothered to tell her what he had asked
permission from her father for. Perhaps the tone of Ericia’s voice
had misled Rowan to believe that he did not have to answer her
question –that what he had done –that the announcement he had
made –was something she was in agreement with.
“I’ve been notified that there will be a wedding soon,” Ericia
says to him. “Tell me, fairest Prince, have you begun the
preparations?”
Rowan stares at Ericia and for a few moments, he’s surprised.
He quickly changes his expression, however, to a bright smile.
“No, Madam, I’m afraid not. You have as much of a say in the
decisions as I do. I hope I can have the pleasure of planning most
of it with you.”
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Ericia remembers the dance –she remembers having her heart
ripped out of her chest at the sight of Prince Henry pressing
Princess May against the wall and kissing the life out of her. Ericia
sighs.
She would be better off marrying Rowan. At least, though
Prince Henry had told her the truth about him, she had never
actually seen Rowan commit himself to such a vulgar,
inconsiderate act, completely disregarding his betrothal to her. If
he had done what Prince Henry accuses him of, he had done it
without mention, and he had done it in private. Ericia feels as
though she would not be able to live knowing that she has seen her
husband in the act. If he is ever to do such a thing again, she
should be absent entirely from his presence.
In her anger, the idea that Prince Henry could have been lying
about Rowan also crosses her mind. She had seen Henry involving
himself in such an open manner towards the Princess of Lystotia,
but Rowan had always been outspoken; talkative, smiling and
greeting everyone. Rowan has always been the person to try to
make an effort in their betrothal, and though Rowan is nothing
compared to Henry when it comes to helping her to rule a
kingdom, he is so much more romantic than Henry. He shows
interest for the majority of situations that arise.
Ericia can’t help but feel her head go hot as she regrets having
Henry find out about her scars; find out about her past and her
present; find out about the abuse; about her father; about the
monstrous reality in which she lives. She regrets having him take
care of her –she regrets ever having interacted with him in the
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first place. He never cared about her –or perhaps his main goal
was always to seem mysterious, draw her in, and then simply
break her heart.
Either way, Ericia believes she has come to her senses. She will
marry Rowan.
“Ericia,” says Rowan, softly.
Ericia realises she’s been staring at her lap the entire time, and
she was completely unaware that her eyes were filled with tears.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Rowan,” she says, in a whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
“About what, my Queen?”
“On that night of the festival,” she says, “when you were drunk
and you... you kissed me... we kissed... you were so drunk that
you pulled me to my own room. We were about to do what every
blooming romance should, I suppose, eventually lead to... but...”
she pauses; finally meeting Rowan’s concerned eyes. “I was
scared. I have to admit it, Rowan, I was so, so scared.”
“What happened?” he asks her. “I don’t quite remember
everything about that night.”
Ericia stares ahead, ashamed, “We were in my room, headed to
my bed. You had stripped some of my clothes and tossed me to
the mattress. It hurt my back a bit, and I snapped out of the
moment we were having. After that, I could not return to the
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mood I’d been in with you, but you, in your drunken state,
wanted to continue. I was scared, because I had not given consent
to you to enter into such an activity with me, but you only wanted
to proceed, and so... I... I hit you... I hit you so hard that you
knocked out.”
Ericia begins to cry, unable to stare at her betrothed.
Rowan watches her cry, slowing a hand towards her back and
caressing it, hoping to comfort her.
“It’s okay, Ericia,” he says, softly. “I... I should be the one
who’s sorry. I must offer you my sincerest apologies. I... it was
never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable... or... afraid
in any way. I... I’ve made a grave mistake.”
“I understand that you were drunk, Rowan,” Ericia says,
sniffling, “you weren’t yourself at the time.” She turns to him. “I
understand, so I chose to forget about it... but... I really was...
terrified.”
Rowan stares at the Queen, sadness filling his eyes. The truth is
Rowan remembered a lot of what had happened that night. He
had remembered getting drunk, and kissing Ericia, but had lost all
memory of what had happened moment before she knocked him
out cold. He couldn’t remember her screaming. He couldn’t
remember the pain she was going through, and he couldn’t
remember seeing any blood.
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Even now, Rowan can’t see any blood. Ericia continues to wear
long sleeved tops and long dresses whenever she’s not heading to
bed. She continues to appear as the most modest of women.
Rowan turns Ericia by her shoulders to face him. “Listen to me,”
he says, as she tries to stop crying. He wipes a falling tear from
her cheek. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, you have to let me
know immediately. Do you understand?”
She takes a few moments, staring into his eyes, and nods.
“And,” he adds, “I will always remember to ask you for your
consent. I swear on my life.”
Ericia wipes her own tears away this time. She nods again,
trying to smile.
“We are going to make this work,” he says, offering her a
comforting, encouraging smile. “Alright?”
Ericia nods again, smiling along with him, and he pulls her in for
a hug. She hugs him back, gently.
In his arms, he smells like perfume and sweat; the tinge of the
sour odour tickling her nose is something Ericia never thought she
would be attracted to, but suddenly she’s hoping to stay in his
arms for a long time; perhaps forever.
***
May walks around the palace, gathering flowers into a basketwhich she will then pluck the petals from and create a beautiful
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picture using them as the main material. She intends to create a
piece which will be a gift to the soon-to-be-weds as a memory of
the Flower Festival. Despite her disapproval of Ericia, she would
much prefer the predetermined wedding to happen smoothly than
for Prince Henry to be swept up into Ericia’s tide.
On her quest, she spots Henry, heading out of the field, into the
courtyard, and soon enough, towards her.
Before he could pass her, she blocks him.
“Your Highness,” she says, with a smirk.
Henry doesn’t react. He stares at her. He doesn’t smile. He
doesn’t scoff. He doesn’t shift on his feet. He shoves his hands
into his pockets and lets out a quick exhale through his nostrils.
“Princess May,” he says, lowly. He bows quickly, hoping to
head away from her. She blocks him again. “I really must be off. I
have a lot of work to do,” he says.
“You have a lot of avoiding to do,” she corrects him. “You’re
ignoring me.” She pouts.
“I would not be, had you any ounce of shame.”
“Me?” she asks in disbelief, “forgive me, Henry, but you were
the one who couldn’t resist kissing me.”
“What happened last night,” he tells her, “was a mistake -which
I intend never to repeat.”
“Clearly,” says May, rolling her eyes. “I know that already.”
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“What?” he asks, confused.
“You’re always making bloody mistakes, Henry,” says May,
“and quite foolish ones, but I’m always going to be around,
whether you like it or not.”
“What are you talking about, May?” he asks, frustrated.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” May asks. “I know that when you
used to visit Lystotia so often that both you and Rowan were in
love with the same pathetic little servant girl. I was the one who
asked Rowan to get her pregnant,” she admits, “because I was
infatuated by you, and I must confess, Prince Henry, that I still am
quite attracted to you. I won’t fail to admit it anymore.”
“Are you telling me,” Henry asks, coming to the realisation,
“that she...that... Agatha was pregnant and killed by your barbaric
brother, not to mention practically shoved into a deep hole at the
side of a snowy mountain, all because of your foolish emotions?”
There is anger in Henry’s voice as he realises this. “You are a
relentless monster to which no nightmare can be compared.”
“I will do everything in my power to call you mine,” says May.
“But I do have to admit that had you not called out her name last
night, I would feel better about myself.”
It takes Henry a moment to realise what May is implying. When
he understands, he goes even more tense. His shoulders stiffen, he
stands straighter.
Yes; Henry had called out Ericia’s name in the midst of May’s
intimate company.
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This only worsens Henry’s fear and rage.
“I cannot believe,” he says, trying to change the topic, “that you
were behind it.”
“Yes,” says May, confidently, “your precious girlfriend –or
should I say that whore who shared herself with both my brother
and you, died because of me.”
“I had never even touched her!” argues Henry. “You are a
greedy, selfish, egocentric-”
“- I am doing what I think is best for me,” May interjects.
Prince Henry stares at her. How could he forgive her for such a
crime? The woman May thinks he had been having a romantic
affair with was merely a friend –though he was beginning to love
her. He had never held her hand with the intention of doing so,
nor had he confessed his love. He hadn’t done anything to woo
her. He had simply taken her up as his companion during his stay
at the Lystotian castle. It was Rowan who had gutted her –Rowan
who had ruined her life with pregnancy –Rowan who had her
removed from the castle and disowned by her family –Rowan who
had killed her and buried her himself. It was all Rowan.
Another innocent life, Henry thinks, feeling his heart sink as low
as it had when he had heard of her death, abused and destroyed
because of the wrongdoings of others who believe they are better
than others.
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“Thank you,” Henry says, out of breath, to the Princess, “for
being so honest about the error of your ways. I wish to no longer
continue this discussion.”
Henry leaves May, standing in the middle of the walkway. He
disappears into the palace and looks for a corner that’s empty.
When he finds one, his back hits the wall, and he drags himself to
the floor, sits, and cries.
***
There is silence in the King’s study as Charles addresses thecourt members, the Princess, the Princes, and the Queen about
plans for development in the kingdom. He introduces a light
discussion on the budget which will be organised in nearing times
to come and speaks on the matter of the rebels who had interfered
with the Flower Festival celebrations in the Hyre Village.
Ericia listens attentively, hoping that her father would not
decide to execute them. From the way the king is discussing the
upcoming decisions to be made by the court, and the changes in
law that he intends to make, it is almost clear and entirely
terrifying for Ericia to imagine that her father might do just that.
After this discussion, Prince Rowan steps forward, and begins to
discuss his ideas for the wedding. Ericia is able to pitch her own
ideas in during this session.
The wedding, though grand, will be private. This, the court
agrees, is an excellent idea, since everyone knows that with the
adjustment of Ericia as Queen, there has been a bit of chaos in the
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kingdom. Though some of the kingdom will be celebrating the
wedding, others will be rebelling against the alliances, causing
riots, having protests, and there is a high probability that there
will be violence. The king believes that these rioting individuals
simply seek to ruin the order of things. He has no consideration
for their needs; he does not voice this to the court, but he implies
it well enough.
Rowan believes that the wedding should take place at the largest
Chapel in the Hyre Village; the Chapel of Hope. Ericia agrees to
this idea. She had been there many times before, and it is the
Chapel she is most comfortable with.
By the end of the meeting, it is decided that preparations for the
wedding are to be made at once, and that as soon as all of it is
organised, the wedding will happen.
Outside of the King’s Study, Prince Henry slugs slowly behind
Rowan and Ericia. May bumps into Henry on her way past
everyone, in a hurry to get nowhere in particular. Rowan and
Ericia are chatting about something that Henry couldn’t care less
about hearing, but when he finds Ericia’s arm entangling into
Rowan’s as they continue to walk as the couple they are, Rowan
says something and offers Ericia a quirky smile, and she laughs,
outrageously genuine.
They’re gone before Henry can understand his own grief.
They’re gone before he forgets where he was ever supposed to
be.