PRINCE HENRY STANDS at the end of the courtyard,
supervising the individual exercises of the troops. He’s been
walking around in circles for hours just looking at them, only
stopping to sit and look after he’s corrected some men from doing
the wrong things which he knew would inevitably cause them to
injure themselves.
There’s sweat trickling down his forehead, but he doesn’t mind.
He’s accustomed to the heat and to the sour smell of perspiration
in an environment full of trainees. He scratches his nose, studying
the men, his eyes falling on a group interaction in the distance. He
can’t hear what they’re saying, but he knows what they’re doing.
The men don’t appear to be part of Phillimont’s army that had
travelled with him. They look instead like some of Vynier’s
citizens who had been enrolled in the training program. Prince
Henry shakes his head in frustration as he sees one of the taller,
61
stronger men, pushing another backward against a wall. He stands
and strolls over to the little gang forming in the corner.
“Quit it, you bastard!” commands the man being attacked.
“You’re a phony. Just who put the thought of it in that no-good
head of yours that you’re made for this army?” replies the
attacker.
“Were you?”
The attacker then turns to find Prince Henry, his arms folded
across his chest, the look of boredom on his face. Prince Henry
waits for a reply. When he gets none, he repeats himself. “Were
you made for this army in more of a way than he was?”
“I- Your Highness,” says the man, laughing nervously, “You
must be mistaken, I didn’t mean-”
“-Is not life a war? Are we not all born to fight it differently?”
Prince Henry asks him. “Is he less capable of winning a battle
because he’s not built like you?”
The attacker takes a step away from the man, and bows lowly.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.”
“I’m not the one who needs to do the forgiving,” says the
Prince, gesturing with a nod of the head towards the man that was
being attacked.
The man turns slowly towards his victim, clearing his throat and
looking around, embarrassed. “F-forgive me... please?”
62
“I forgive you,” replies the soldier.
Prince Henry nods to both the men. “You will both spend an
extra hour every evening under the supervision of one of my
army’s commanders, working together in training. I do hope you
spend this time learning to cooperate.”
Prince Henry turns to his left –Ericia stands at the entrance to
the courtyard with Avie, her expression blank, though it’s clear
she’s intrigued by the situation. Avie turns to Ericia –who nods
once slowly at the Prince- and then Prince Henry turns from her,
walking into the opposite direction and returning to his seat.
“That’s it,” Ericia says, softly –and more to herself than to
Avie. She sounds defeated.
“What is?” Avie asks.
“That’s the most Prince Henry has ever acknowledged me.”
“Dear me,” Avie mutters, “that man is such a mystery.”
***
Queen Olivia loosens the big braid of her hair, sitting andstaring at herself in the mirror of her dresser. She’s moving
gracefully, careful not to pull any one strand or agitate her scalp.
“Is he still caught up in the meeting?” she asks the maid behind
her.
“Yes, My Queen, His Majesty is still with the officials of
Phillimont and I believe a couple of trainees as well.”
63
Queen Olivia turns to her maid. “Gaya,” she says. “Come
closer.” Gaya then steps closer to the Queen, who proceeds to
speak in a soft voice only loud enough for the maid to hear. “Has
there been any word from the Callie family?”
“They’ve been quiet for the longest while. There hasn’t been a
word since the last request to push their event forward in the
village.”
“Please continue to look after them,” says Queen Olivia. “I am
so grateful for all your efforts. You will be greatly rewarded, I
promise you.”
“Would you like me to send a message to any one of them? I
should be heading over there in a few days when I have my time
off.”
Olivia pauses in thought. “Ask them... to forgive me.”
“Forgive you, My Queen?”
Olivia looks into her own eyes through the mirror before her. In
it, she can see her sins. “I’ve done them a great wrong. I’ve caused
chaos to feast upon the innocents and that I cannot undo.”
When Ericia’s guardian, Marie, had found out about the sexual
abuse towards the queen by her own husband, Marie had been a
newly wedded. Her husband was a member of the Royal army,
and Marie was four months pregnant.
With a flash of white lightning in a sky raining bullets, a thick
noose and an unsteady wooden floor, Olivia is haunted by the
64
death of Marie. The late servant’s family, the Callies, had lived in
poverty shortly after being stripped of their titles, but Olivia
found her means of helping them out in secret. If King Charles
were to ever find out, however, Olivia knows she would be gone
forever.
***
Prince Rowan stands at the entrance of the Throne room,conversing with two court members. They’re all laughing when
Ericia and Avie make their way towards them.
“Well, at least one of them is amiable,” Avie whispers to her
best friend.
“At least one of them has the courage to entertain and be
entertained by others in a foreign land,” Ericia says to her friend,
smugly, “It’s apparently not a trait of most with high positions.”
“Ericia!” Rowan says, waving her over into his little
conversation.
“Hello, Rowan, and good day to you, both,” Ericia says,
acknowledging the court members.
“We’ve been discussing the upcoming Flower Festival, Your
Highness,” says the court lady, Lady Rose.
“I’m sure you’re aware, Ericia, but the Flower Festival has only
been a rare experience for me,” Rowan says in reminder. “I’ve
only attended one in all of my time here –and it was way too long
ago to be properly appreciated now.”
65
“Ah, yes, the Flower Festival,” Ericia says, smiling. “Are you
planning on staying to observe it with us this time?”
“I’ll certainly be here for a little while,” says the Prince, “and of
course, it is my intention to form a special bond with your people.
I’d be honoured to attend the grand events of the Flower Festival
with you.”
“Well, there we have it,” Ericia says, amused, “Something else
to look forward to.”
“Yes,” Rowan says, laughing, “Ah, Henry!” he calls to the
Prince walking past them.
Ericia turns to look at the Prince. He’s still as intimidating as
ever, not smiling, and walking as though he’s always ready for
something to happen.
Henry stops in his tracks when Rowan calls him out and he turns
to the Prince, clearing his throat, “Rowan,” he acknowledges.
“You seem to be having a lovely day.”
Rowan nods. “We’ve just been discussing the upcoming Flower
Festival of Vynier. I must ask you, my friend, if you’ll be
accompanying us to it.”
Us? Prince Henry wonders to himself, though he knows Rowan
is pairing himself with Ericia because of the gesture Rowan had
made, tilting his head towards the princess.
Henry only glances briefly into the direction of the Princess
before returning his focus to the Prince. “It’s difficult to know,
66
honestly,” he says. “With the intensity of the training and the
amount of men I have to keep up with, it’s hard to say whether or
not I will be able to make it.”
“Unless, of course, His Majesty decides to put off the training
for a while so as to give you a bit of a break,” says Prince Rowan,
turning to the court members. “Would he do such a thing?”
Sir Victor, the court member, nods. “King Charles would be
generous enough to do such a thing, though I’m sure he’s eager to
move along with the alliance. He may put it off for a bit until the
festival is over. It is possible that he would allow the trainees to
have those days off, but in any case, he would be sure to discuss
such details with the Phillimont Prince.”
“What do you think, Ericia?” Rowan asks.
Ericia suddenly feels small. She’s been put on the spot yet again.
“Oh, um...” she glances at Henry and then back to Rowan. “I’m
never sure what my father’s plans are, truthfully,” she laughs. “I
suppose it is a subject that can be discussed with the king by those
of the court.”
“But what do you think?” Prince Henry suddenly asks her.
There’s a pause, and suddenly Ericia has become immobile,
frozen in her stance. She blinks at the Prince, startled by his
sudden attention towards her. “Huh?” She utters, before
correcting herself. “Pardon me?”
“What do you think,” he repeats, “about giving the trainees of
your own army the days of the festival as time off?”
67
Ericia wants to swallow, but that would be out of character. She
shifts in her spot nervously. She wants to shrug too, but that
would also be out of character.
Prince Henry only allows her to feel awkward for a few
moments –not long enough for Prince Rowan, Avie, Sir Victor or
Lady Rose to notice that she’s feeling insecure.
“Don’t you think,” Prince Henry asks her, looking directly into
her eyes with a stern expression as he says it, “that part of that
decision is dependent on your point of view?”
Prince Rowan offers a quiet chuckle. “It’s alright. As of now it’s
only a bit of banter. Further discussion on this topic will arise the
closer we get to the actual festival, as I’m sure. Until then,” he
says, turning to Ericia, “You can think it all over and give your
answer.” He nods, offering a bit of comfort and support.
“I have to get back to the courtyard,” Prince Henry says, “Take
care for now.” He nods once at Prince Rowan, glancing at
Princess Ericia for a mere moment before turning and walking
away.
Ericia’s eyes follow him until he disappears around the bend that
would lead him to the courtyard, as Rowan, Sir Victor and Lady
Rose excuse themselves and Ericia and Avie take their own
separate route back into the palace.
“He spoke to you,” Avie says, poking Ericia’s arm gently.
“He’s harsh,” Ericia says, “and rather straight forward.”
68
“He’s responsible,” Avie says, “a bit stern and on the introverted
side, but incredibly responsible and wise.”
“I suppose that is the fate that comes with being the future king
of a kingdom like Phillimont,” Ericia says, turning into the
corridor that would take her to her room. “You don’t even have
the time to engage a kingdom’s princess in a reasonably friendly
conversation.”
***
Ericia sits out in the open field behind the palace where traineesare gathering firewood and there are three long tables filled with
food. The sun is already setting, and Prince Rowan tosses another
bit of firewood into the large bonfire before her, causing more
smoke to rise and more sparks to fly. He grunts as he sits beside
her, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his legs in front of
him.
“It’s been a loooong day, Princess,” he says to her. “I could do
with a good bottle of wine.”
“Which would you prefer?” Ericia asks him.
“Perhaps the red,” Rowan says, “I haven’t had that for a little
while.”
Ericia looks around. Her maids are all busy dishing out food for
the trainees at the tables in the distance. She would have to walk
all the way over there and bother one of the maids to go into the
wine cellar to get one of the red wines.
69
“I’ll be back in just a moment,” she says. She stands, heading
over to the tables.
When she gets there, all of the maids have already dispersed into
the crowd of people hoping to receive their plate of food. Ericia
groans lowly. She walks into the palace, deciding that she would
go get the wine herself.
In order to reach the cellar, Ericia must pass the large dining
room, the Queen’s lounge and the room of the officials of the
court and then travel down the steps leading to the basement.
On any other ordinary day, Ericia would go with Avie to get a
bottle of wine which they would return with to her room to
share. Today, she’s going alone, and she’s bringing it back for her
Betrothed.
Ericia’s mind is far off in thought as she walks –thoughts of
Prince Rowan, thoughts of Prince Henry, thoughts of her mother,
thoughts of the festiv- and then before Ericia can finish her
thoughts, she’s slipping and tumbling down the stairs to the
basement.
She lands on her back, crying out in pain, but she covers her
mouth to suppress screaming. The wounds on her back are
throbbing, her arms are slightly grazed, and she thinks she’s
possibly strained a muscle. Her vision is blurry as she stares up at
the ceiling above her, and then a tall, dark, blurry silhouette
appears.
70
She stares at it, lying on the floor in pain. She blinks a few times
until she’s able to see clearly. She turns on her side, deciding that
lying on her back isn’t a good idea, and her eyes fall on the shoes
of the person standing just beside her.
The shoes are leather boots –brown, worn out leather boots,
but the pants and the leather coat are familiar, as well as the long,
black cotton cape. Looking up at the face of the person, Ericia
suddenly realises who she’s looking pathetic beside.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, sitting up. With every move she
makes, every part of her body aches. She sits there in front of him,
disoriented.
Prince Henry extends a hand towards her. She looks at it, and
then looks up at him. He’s staring down at her with an expression
of concern and hope. “Are you alright?” he asks, genuinely
worried.
Ericia is dumbfounded. She grabs his hand and stands, dusting
off her dress and searching her skin. She takes one step to the side
in an attempt to balance herself and almost falls over again,
Henry’s hand reaching under her to hold her up by her stomach.
He places his other hand gently on her back and straightens her
up. He walks her over to the staircase.
“Sit,” he says.
“I’m fine,” she replies, “really.”
“I wasn’t asking,” he says. “Sit.”
71
Ericia feels a cold chill run up her spine.
I wasn’t asking.
Sit.
As if Ericia has suddenly lost all her ability to think and do for
herself, she obeys him, sitting on the third step and staring blankly
ahead, her breathing heavy. Her head begins to pound. Her
heartbeat becomes too quick to control.
Henry sits beside her. “Stretch out your legs,” he says.
Ericia slowly stretches out her legs, her left ankle paining at the
motion. She groans and hisses.
Prince Henry lifts the hem of her dress slightly and assesses the
problem. “You sprained your ankle. You’ll need to get some ice
on this as soon as possible.”
“It’s alright,” Ericia protests, “It’ll stop hurting soon enough.”
“Believe what you want to,” Henry says, his tone suddenly
changing as he stands and takes one step up the staircase. “Next
time,” he adds, not turning to look back at her, “Watch where
you’re walking.”
With that, his steps fade from earshot, and she’s left, sitting
there with a throbbing body once more.
***
72“What took you so long?” Rowan asks, spotting Ericia behind a
few roaming trainees.
Ericia’s clenched teeth form a closed-mouth smile towards the
Prince as she takes the bottle of red wine to him and slowly takes
her seat beside him on the thick log. The sun has set, and there are
village musicians here, entertaining some dancing trainees with
folk songs of Vynier.
“I couldn’t find an idle servant,” Ericia explains to Rowan, “and
I don’t have the heart to give any one of them a task right now. I
ended up fetching this bottle myself.”
Rowan stretches, Ericia listening to his combined groan with the
crackles of the fireplace and the strums of the guitars and the
beating of the drums.
“Henry must be halfway into the woods by now,” Rowan says,
though he says it more to himself.
“The woods?” Ericia asks, surprised, “at this hour?”
“He prefers to hunt in darkness –says it’s much easier to catch
wild meat.”
Ericia is suddenly reminded of the worn out boots, the old
leather jacket and the black cape Prince Henry was wearing when
she had stumbled into him at the basement staircase. He did seem
to be going somewhere. He seemed to be going somewhere that
wasn’t such an easy journey –or didn’t require the polished look
of any Royal Prince.
73
“Ah,” Ericia says, understanding, “I see.”
***
Ericia sits in the comfort of her bathtub, staring down at herswollen ankle under the translucent blue bath water. She’ll need
to find a way to take care of the ankle herself –and she’ll need to
do something about it before her father finds out.
Ericia sits in the bath for so long that she becomes unaware of
the time. When she gets out of the tub and gets dressed, heading
back into her bedroom, all the maids are gone. She limps towards
her bed, sitting and rubbing her ankle, frustrated. Tears escape
her eyes –though she didn’t plan on crying- but she’s in such pain
that she can’t help it.
She stands, dragging her foot over to the balcony doors and
opening it to walk outside.
It’s late, and there are no people out there. The palace bonfire
lasted a few hours, but everyone had left before midnight.
Ericia basks in the glory of the night, hoping to calm herself
under the cool temperature accompanying the gentle winds.
She reflects on the hand extended to her by the mysterious
Prince Henry. She reflects on the words he had said –on his
commanding voice.
I wasn’t asking. Sit.
74
Suddenly, Ericia questions her own actions. Why do I pretend so
much around Rowan? Why do I keep things from him? Is he not the very
person I’m to marry one day –and one day soon, perhaps? Why does this
marriage feel odd?
And worse yet, Ericia...
Why does your heart collapse at the mere thought of Prince Henry?
Who is he to you?
How could you fall idle in thoughts of someone like that?
75
Chapter Six: The Devil in the Woods
ERICIA HEARS THE startling sound of anguish echo out from
the woods behind the field of the palace. She hears the double-
timed gallops of one horse. She stares out from her balcony into
the darkness before her. A black silhouette appears from the eerie
woods –tall, mysterious, bone-chilling, riding out on a white
stallion, reminiscent of a devil in the flesh. The silhouette jumps
off of the animal and pulls a large beast that had been hanging off
the back of the horse, swinging it over his shoulders and stumbling
towards the palace with the weight of it on his back. Ericia then
hears the footsteps of soldiers rushing towards the silhouette –at
least five of them.
There’s a knocking at Ericia’s door –she wakes up.
“Your Highness, are you awake?” it’s Avie’s voice. “Ericia,
darling, it’s Avie.”
76
Ericia sits up on her bed, shaken up by the vividness of the
dream. “Come in, Avie.”
Avie bursts through the doors, the maids following behind her
and getting to work.
“Ericia, you would not believe what I’m about to tell yo-“ Avie
says just as Ericia stands to her feet, takes a step forward and
crashes to the tiled flooring. “Oh Heavens,” Avie says, rushing
over, “Are you alright?”
Ericia hadn’t had enough time to process the situation –she’d
completely forgotten about her injured ankle. She sits on the
floor, crying out in pain as Avie raises her dress slightly to look at
the injury.
“Someone get the doctor here immediately,” she says to the
maids. “Dear God, Eri, what happened?”
“I fell last night on my way to the wine cellar,” Ericia says, “but
I didn’t realise the injury would be this bad. It didn’t feel that way
at all.”
“Ericia,” Avie says, frustrated and in utter shock, “Are you daft?
You’re a Princess, you’re supposed to call for help in situations
like that. Dear God, why were you going to the wine cellar?
Where were the maids?”
“All busy entertaining the