Dark & Cold by Ciara Attong - HTML preview

Chapter Fifteen: Goodbye

CARTER’S REFLECTION GLAZES over the surface of

Rowan’s horrified eyes as he realises what he’s done. Rowan lets

go of the sword –still stuck in the soldier- and backs away as

Avie’s scream echoes across the church walls.

Avie runs towards Carter, watching as he falls heavily to the

floor, penetrated by shining metal under an enormous chandelier

above.

Ericia and Henry stare at the bloody sight as Avie stoops beside

Carter. He’s luckily breathing, though it’s in laboured breaths as

the pain takes over.

“Where is the doctor?” Avie asks. “Did he leave with the king?”

“He left,” Ericia says, “I’m sure there’s another physician

somewhere here.” She looks around the church, “Can anyone

help?”

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“I can,” Gaya says, rushing from the back of the church to the

front. “I’ll help him, Your Majesty,” she says leaning to inspect the

wound.

As she does this, Rowan stares at Carter, stunned by his own

action. Henry glares at him, placing his sword back into his

sheath. “If my soldier dies,” he tells the Prince, “so do you.”

“I... I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Rowan says to Henry.

“But you meant to hurt me and you hurt him instead. I owe

this man my life, don’t you think? So I’ll repeat myself,” Henry

says, pausing, “If he dies, so... do... you.”

Rowan’s brows furrow. He turns to Ericia. “If no is indeed your

answer, Ericia,” he pauses, turning to Henry, “then I have no

purpose here. Father!” he calls, walking over to where his father

is. He spots his unconscious mother in his father’s hands, a maid

attending to her. He stands, enraged. “Lystotia will be at war with

both Vynier and Phillimont,” he announces. “Are you sure you do

not want to help your people in any way? Are you selfish enough

to ignore them? Won’t you help yourself?”

“I won’t fret over useless battles,” Ericia says, turning to him.

“I’m sure you’ve fought many –you’re a story too obvious,

Rowan, and it’s clear to me that any battle involving you is

unnecessary.”

Rowan, steaming with a face so red it’s burning up, turns to his

sister. May is looking at her brother, unable to say a word. She’s

not sure whether she’s on his side or not.

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...A War?

...Against Phillimont?

Of all other nations, Phillimont?

“Brother,” May says, gently, “perhaps you’re being a bit too

harsh, a war is... a bit much... maybe you should reconsider-”

“-Then stay here,” Rowan tells her.

“What?” May asks, taken aback.

“You wanted to fix things so badly, then go ahead and stay here

and do it for yourself. I won’t sit around and be further

embarrassed. When you’re ready to behave like a Lystotian –

when you’re ready to be a Wright- come home. Father,” he says,

turning to his parents, “let’s take mother to the carriage together.

We’re leaving. Immediately.”

“Rowan,” May says, watching them leave, “You must be

joking.”

Rowan says nothing as the guards keep May from reaching him.

The Lystotian King, Queen and Prince are surrounded by soldiers

as they leave the church, and May follows them outside until they

reach the carriage. She runs behind the carriage, screaming at

them to stop –to wait –to take her with them. They don’t stop.

They leave her in the dust until she drops to the floor on her knees

and watches them disappear.

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“Your Highness,” says a maid to her, “please.” She extends a

hand, hoping to pull the Princess off of her spot on the ground.

Instead, May sits there. She screams. She starts crying.

Ericia can hear May’s screams and cries from the inside of the

church. It pains her to see what her brother had done, despite the

victim being the unfriendly Princess May.

“He’ll survive,” Gaya says, “I need some help getting him back

to the palace right away.”

“Carter,” Avie whispers to him, placing a hand over his chest.

Carter, shivering, places his bloody hand over hers, hoping to

calm her down. She’s crying.

“Ericia,” Avie says, sniffling, “do you think your father is okay?”

“Seth will take care of him,” Ericia says, staring at the wounded

soldier as he is carried away by some of the Vynierian and

Phillimont men.

Henry turns to Ericia, absorbing her pained expression and her

will not to cry out in frustration, anger or sadness. Suddenly, he

takes her hand, pulls her in, and hugs her.

“Forgive me,” he says; his voice is broken and sincere.

Ericia doesn’t hug him back.

After a moment or two, Ericia pulls away from the Prince,

already feeling her heartbeat speeding up. At this moment, she

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cannot find the strength to argue with him –she cannot find the

strength to say anything at all to him.

“Guards!” she yells, summoning all of the soldiers around.

When they gather into a uniformed manner, she begins to walk

out of the church, and they follow. Outside, she speaks. “The

Lystotian Prince has waged a war among our nations,” she says.

“As my father is ill, there is no one else worthy to protect this land

with strength, determination and power than the army... and if

you consider it so; me. Will you do your country justice? Will you

protect the people? Will you protect yourselves and your kin? Or

will you fail to be wise, just, honest, noble men?”

The soldiers all bow before her.

Prince Henry walks out of the church and stands beside her,

calling the Phillimont soldiers to order. They bow. Henry turns to

Ericia and bows.

“Lystotia cannot beat us,” he says, smirking as he stands to gaze

at Ericia’s flushed, stern face. “My Queen.”

“Then we have a lot to do,” Ericia says to him, “Don’t we?”

***

Seth stares at the clock on the wall. He’s done everything he

could for the king... but it is too late. He feels the king’s pulse

with his fingers on the Royal’s wrist. With every passing second

on the clock, the pulse comes... slower... slower...

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It won’t be long now.

Without the pleasure of seeing him wake up, Seth feels the

King’s last pulse, and he first announces the death of the king to

the guards standing outside of his room door.

When Ericia hears of the passing of her father, she feels little

remorse. She had never known her father to be a loving man. He

was aggressive –violent –egocentric –deceitful –impulsive –

controlling... he was everything she could never find love for. The

slightest hint of guilt finds her stomach –twists and turns it- as she

realises she is the reason for him becoming poisoned.

There is nothing stopping her from moving on with life –

nothing, except for one thing. When she stares at the picture of

her parents on their wedding day –a picture framed in gold and

hung in the giant lounge- she doesn’t at all see the man she has

always known. Her father seemed genuinely happy on his wedding

day –genuinely grateful for the woman he had just married –

genuinely satisfied with his life.

Perhaps he truly did love her mother at one point as she had

inferred, but what changed that? Was it merely him wanting a

male heir? Ericia knows that it is useless asking questions now,

however, because she will never find out the answers.

The king is buried in the Royal Cemetery, and there is a large

procession as the Royals and the kingdom itself goes into

mourning.

If only the people, Ericia thinks, knew what he was really like.

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Villagers cry and throw flowers and petals at Ericia’s carriage as

she passes through the towns with everyone else from the palace.

When she reaches the end of Ballier, she notices something.

The carriage turns around and is insistent on heading back to the

palace.

“Stop the carriage,” she says, to which the order is obeyed. “Go

into Merrington.”

“Your Majesty?” asks the coachman.

“You heard correctly,” says the Queen. “Take me to Demarnia

and Isla. I want to see them; the people and the places. Go!”

The coachman obeys.

When Henry realises what Ericia is doing, he smiles from his

own carriage.

“Is something on your mind, Your Highness?” asks the servant

sitting beside him.

Smiling, he turns to the young man. “Please tell the captain of

the guards to prepare my horse and bring it to my side of the

carriage,” he says. “I want to ride my way from here on.”

The servant does as he is told, and when Prince Henry finds his

horse near to the entrance of the carriage he hops out and jumps

directly onto his horse, petting it as it takes off. He rides through

the other soldiers and carriages, finding his way at Ericia’s

carriage.

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“Ericia!” he yells at the closed door.

Confused, she peeks out of the window. She finds Henry beside

her.

“What are you doing outside of your carriage?” she asks,

surprised.

“You cannot expect to see the whole world sitting inside

there,” he says, smiling at her. She smiles back and he laughs.

“Come on out. We’re heading into Demarnia soon. I cannot beg

you to ride with me but-”

“-I’ll come,” she says, shuffling around in her purse for a spray

of perfume. She grabs her fan and fixes her crown, asking the

servant beside her if it is fixed properly onto her head. She opens

the door of the carriage, holding on to the sides in fear as the

carriage keeps moving, and Henry extends a hand. She takes it and

jumps, almost missing the horse and falling between the animal

and the carriage onto the gravel road.

Breathing heavily out of anxiety, she finds her hand gripped to

Henry’s tightly before he lets go of it and reaches for her side to

fix her properly onto the horse so that she’s sitting comfortably

behind him.

When she’s comfortable, Henry rides off quickly, and the

sudden increase in speed forces Ericia’s body forward. She hugs

Henry, her arms wrapping around his body and her chest resting

on his back.

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Henry makes it to the front of the procession and orders

everyone to turn around and head back to the palace. The guards

turn to Ericia for approval and she nods.

Henry takes off again when they leave. Ericia closes her eyes for

a little while until she’s used to the speed, and then, she opens her

eyes slowly, looking around. The image of disaster fills her vision

and the atmosphere of sorrow overwhelms her. Before she has

seen half of Demarnia, she can already feel her heart being ripped

apart.

***

The palace is empty. There are few servants running around

trying to get work done and others are simply the kitchen staff and

the people who hadn’t gone along for the procession.

Avie sits beside Carter –who is lying on his bed- and dabs a

warm, moist cloth over his wound. He hisses at the sensation. She

pulls away for a moment; afraid.

“I’m sorry,” Carter whispers to her.

“For what?” Avie asks, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry for getting hurt,” he tells her, staring at her

expressionless face. Carter knows that Avie is only hiding her real

emotions.

“Why are you apologizing to me? It’s your body that took the

damage. It’s not like we’re... like we’re... there’s nothing

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between us. You don’t have to apologize. You were protecting a

Prince.”

“You don’t like seeing me hurt,” Carter says. “And... as the

only person who has ever cared enough to consider that, I... feel

as though I’ve made a terrible mistake in letting you down.”

“What do you mean no one considers if you get hurt or not?”

Avie asks. “That’s impossible. I’m sure your family would be

distraught.”

Carter takes Avie’s hand, dabbing over his wound. He stops it,

feeling as though she has begun to press a bit too hard. He takes

the cloth from her and rests it on the bedside table. He takes her

hand in his.

“In Phillimont, it is an honour to be a part of the army. It’s an

army so large that people may think it is easy to find replacements

but the truth is it is quite hard to become a soldier. You have to be

extremely good –you have to be excellent. My father was a

soldier until he became injured and lost a leg. When I was

younger, he would play with me. He would train me. That’s why,

even though I’m so young, I could be a part of the army.”

“But there are others your age as well,” Avie says. “I’m certain

you’re not the only nineteen year old.”

“There are, but the difference between them and me is that

they attended classes or were schooled with Prince Henry. If they

weren’t, then they must be as fortunate as me, or simply consider

themselves to be cursed if they really don’t want to be here.”

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There’s a pause as Carter reflects. “When my father came home

without a limb my mother was distraught, but she argued and

argued that I should fill out my form to see if I make it into the

army because it would make my father proud. I wanted to do it

for him, too. He loved being courageous for his country. I wanted

to be just like him. To this day, my father still smiles as brightly as

he did before he lost his leg. The only difference now is... he

hopes others will have the same passion as he did for justice. I

just... I want to see that smile on his face until the very end.”

“But do you want to be here for yourself?” Avie asks.

Carter stares at Avie, who is clearly showing signs of

disappointment. “At some point in my journey as a soldier, my

reasons for wanting to be one broke into pieces and became a

mass of things. One of them is my father; the other is my mother;

another is -of course- for the good of my country and my people;

and...” he takes both her hands in his and she looks right into his

eyes, “eventually, somewhere along the way, the biggest reason

was because I met you.”

Avie, brought to tears, stares at Carter until she cannot hold her

emotions in any longer. “How could you be so foolish?” she asks

him, in a broken whisper. “How could you get hurt like that? You

knew how it would make me feel...”

“I’m sorry, Avie,” he says gently, smiling and wiping her tears

away. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m going to be okay.”

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“How could you end up in this state and say such wonderful

things? It does not fit the occasion,” Avie says, wiping her own

tears away and sniffling.

Carter frowns. “I was hesitant to make anything between us

happen,” he says, “because I cannot be sure that nothing will

happen to me. I cannot promise you that I will never get hurt –

that I will never have to do anything extreme. I am a soldier. I

thought that... that maybe I shouldn’t give you false hopes for

anything... but... a lot has happened that I’ve noticed during my

time here. I met you... I discovered the truth about the life of

Royals, I see how hard it is to be them from as lowly a point of

view as my position... and when the commotion happened at the

Chapel... when the hope of the people began to fall apart and

violence began to happen around you... I was afraid. I became

afraid because you are a part of this kingdom. You have a bond

with these people. Of course, I care about the people with the

same affection I feel towards you. I want to protect them, because

they are a part of you. I want to protect what you care about,

because that is how I can protect you. So I decided, Avie, and I

pray that you forgive me for it, that even if I die, I will protect

you. I won’t let anything happen to you... ever.”

Avie stares at the young man; her cheeks soaked and tears

gathering at the base of her chin before dripping down. “I cannot

promise I’ll never be upset that you’ll be hurt,” she says to him,

“but... I do want you to know, Carter, that the affection you claim

to feel towards me is not felt without reciprocation.”

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Carter smiles. “Can you help me sit? If I move on my own, I’ll

cry like a baby.”

Avie laughs, helping him to a sitting position. He stares at her,

laughing as she laughs back. He places his hands on her cheeks,

wiping away her tears. She places a hand on his cheek, caressing it.

He pulls her face towards his.

Their lips collide.

***

The Demarnia Village and the Isla Village are connected by one

deep, wide river, flowing just along the centre of two masses of

land. It is a river filled with dirty water –so dirty that even the

algae is dead across the entire surface and there are rotten fishes

floating everywhere.

Ericia grimaces as an unfavourable odour fills her nose, tickling

it. Henry keeps riding on.

“The people bathe in this water,” Henry explains. “They drink

it, they cook with it, they bathe in it. It is all they have.”

Ericia wants to vomit at the sight of it, and she’s so distraught by

the sight that she begins to cry silently.

“In the distance, there, do you see those huts?” Henry asks,

pointing across the river at a mass of silhouettes of huts.

“I see them,” Ericia says, knowing what he is about to say.

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“They sleep there. They eat there. They cook there. They live

out in the open –most of them.”

Ericia and Henry can smell dead animals and Henry spots dead

bodies poorly buried in the dirt nearby.

“Some of the people are fortunate to have wooden houses, but

even those... aren’t comfortable.”

“These people have nothing,” Ericia says, breaking down and

hugging Henry tighter from behind. Her tears begin to soak into

his clothes and he feels it wetting his back. “They have nothing and

my father did nothing for them –he executed them instead of

helping them when they were only crying out for help.”

Henry stops the horse. He gets off and turns to look at Ericia.

“Your father may have been an ignorant ruler, Ericia, but you

don’t have to be.”

“I know that,” she says, “but I don’t know where to start in

fixing things.”

Henry stares up at Ericia. She’s torn, and every vulnerable part

of her that had once been bottled up inside seems to be pouring

out all at once as she sits there in silence. Henry takes her hand

and places it on his chest –over his heart.

“Do you feel this?” he asks her.

“Your heartbeat?” she asks, sniffling.

“As long as this is beating,” he says, “it will do its best.”

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“What do you mean?” asks Ericia.

“As long as I’m alive, Ericia, I’ll do my best to help you.

Phillimont and Vynier are only to sign official documents and

we’ll be allies. I can promise you one thing, Your Majesty,” he

says, staring at her with a look of admiration, his low voice

warming over her skin like a soothing warm water bath full of

spices that refresh her body. Ericia feels chills all over her as she

listens to the Prince speak. The pores on her arms rise. She stares

at him. “As long as we’re alive, I’ll always be by your side. I’ll

always support you; protect you; encourage you; motivate you.

I’ll always help you to do your best. As long as my heart is

beating, it will feel the fullness of being alive. I want you to feel

that way, too, Ericia. I want you to live so fully that you have

emotions, experiences, expressions bursting out of you. You will

be an inspiration to other people. You will move people to be

better.”

Ericia remembers Gaya saying something similar. She looks

down at Henry, standing beside his horse and staring back at her.

She stares ahead for a moment, petting the horse, and jumps down

from it.

She stands before Henry and bows.

“I humbly accept your offers and promise my own Loyalty,”

says the Queen, and it’s the first time Ericia has ever felt herself

move and speak so gracefully.

***

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The Vynierian soldiers look fashionably sharp in their uniforms

beside the armies of Phillimont as the Alliance Ceremony unfolds.

Prince Henry stands at the front, beside Queen Ericia, and the

ceremony is opened with patriotic songs of both kingdoms, as

well as the anthems and the pledges. The colours of the flag of

Vynier stand out beside the colours of the flag of Phillimont;

Vynier’s flag resembles the colours of autumn –the centre of the

flag is a deep red circle and around it there is a gradient leading

out to the ends of the flag, starting with orange and ending with

yellow. The Phillimont flag is much different –it is entirely Royal

Blue with one black stripe vertically falling from the top left to the

bottom right.

Ericia and Prince Henry solemnly agree to rule over their

kingdoms and instruct their armies with complete justice, and to

adhere to the moral values which protest against the temptations

associated with such power.

When the signing is over, however, Henry speaks to Ericia

alone, claiming that he and the army must go back to Phillimont

for a while to finalize things there.

Henry doesn’t specify if or when he would return to Vynier;

instead, he promises Ericia one thing. He promises her that she