ERICIA SITS IN her study, slouching lazily over her desk full of
thick books on Politics. Every day, on a usual basis, Ericia spends
approximately six hours studying –no less, sometimes more. Her
father never teaches her anything –and if he claims to be teaching
her, it’s in the worst method possible.
Ericia rubs her forehead in frustration. As far as she’s seen, none
of the things she’s learnt in these books have been applied to the
practicality of ruling a kingdom –at least from the way she’s seen
her father do it. She groans loudly, free to do that in her own
environment. She shakes her head, gluing her eyes to the page in
the book before her again and forcing herself to re-read a
paragraph she’d already read so many times and still can’t seem to
grasp. Ericia can’t imagine what it must be like to be a student out
in the kingdom, but even at twenty, she could imagine the
struggle of those who aren’t royal or rich enough to buy books or
learn in ways other than reading. She could imagine university
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students being frustrated, secondary school students struggling,
even the primary school students having their fill.
Perhaps one of the things she could do to improve the education
system would be provide some sort of support as the Princess
through an initiative. Perhaps she could begin an outreach or a
campaign.
Having her mind wander again, she shakes her head. She
wouldn’t be able to do such a thing –her father won’t let her.
But perhaps having the Prince of Lystotia and the Prince of Phillimont
here would soften his mind towards the idea... she thinks. She shakes
her head again, staring down at the paragraph.
Rowan, she remembers saying. Do you love me?
She shuts the textbook and grinds her teeth, immediately
regretting the decision afterwards.
I’d be lying if I said yes, Ericia... he had told her... but I’m in the
process of learning to, and that means I don’t want anyone else getting in
the way of us. You’re mine –and only mine.
“You’re mine,” she says to herself, lowly, “and only mine.”
Something about the way he said it irks her.
This process of learning to love one another, she decides, is
foolish and comical. To love is not a skill to be acquired. You
simply love and are loved. Through flaws, through mistakes and
conflicts, through good times and bad times, you still love. All the
experiences add up –but the love is still there. Love is always
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there from the beginning, sometimes it just takes a while to find
it. If the love was never there, you’d know. If someone is
different from the beginning, you’d know. You’d always know
how someone makes you feel –even if that feeling is not what it’s
meant to be from the very beginning. That person is just different,
and they always will be. Humans are intelligent enough to have
that instinct.
But why do I feel... she wonders... like I’ve never felt that love
towards him?
Do I love him as a friend? She asks herself. She pauses, knowing
the answer too obviously.
Sure, Ericia knows that she’s engaged to Prince Rowan. They’re
to be married one day, but has she ever felt anything towards him?
During the four times they’ve ever been together in their lifetime,
how much could she have felt? All she knew was that one day
she’d have to marry this Prince. All she knew was that she did not
have the freedom to choose who she wanted to marry one day. All
she knew was that someday, her husband would be the future king
of Lystotia, and her children would be the heirs to an allied pair of
kingdoms.
Thinking about all of it now, Ericia realises she’s never fallen in
love. She’s never felt those chills –the chills you’re supposed to
get when you’re afraid to touch someone for the first time –like in
those romantic novels he often liked to read. She’s never allowed
someone to kiss her. She’s never allowed a man to overstep his
boundaries –unless it’s her father or Prince Rowan, and she isn’t
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too keen on allowing the Prince to do such things, but does she
have a choice?
Can she be as open with Prince Rowan as she wants to be? Can
she say how she really feels? Can she do the things she truly wants
to do?
She remembers once testing those waters –the time she had
woken up to find him fencing early in the morning.
Her father doesn’t know that she’s been practicing the defensive
arts, but she’s been trying to improve herself in them. She hasn’t
been able to do much because of the physical pain and strain of
abuse on her body, but she tries anyway, deciding that if the
defensive arts involve the least of pain, then when she doesn’t
have to deal with such torture –when the pain is gone –when the
throbbing stops and the healing starts, she won’t feel anything
when fighting. She won’t feel anything at all. She’ll be numb
towards it. She’ll be numb, and she’ll be professional –a master in
the arts.
Prince Rowan hadn’t seemed to mention such details to her
father –otherwise Ericia knows her father would whip her into the
morning again. He’d chain her to the wall backwards, so that
she’d face the stone and not see what he’d be attaching to the
leather whip, and then she’d feel the first lash –the second –the
third –and before she knows it she’s forgotten how many she’s
gotten because she can’t keep up. The sun will then rise, a new
day will begin, and her father will go about his business as usual.
She would have to pretend nothing had happened again.
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This thought sends a chill up Ericia’s spine. She would have to
pretend. Pretend. She despises the word so.
She thinks about the night she’d fallen down the stairs, injuring
her ankle. Prince Henry was the only one who had ever helped
her.
Ever.
Ericia had never taken such a fall in her life. She had never
allowed herself to appear weak in front of others. As a child,
perhaps falling and bruising a knee was an issue, but as she grew
up and learnt about the harshness of her reality, Ericia learnt to be
careful –even in the presence of her best friend.
Ericia stares down at her healing ankle and thinks about the way
Prince Henry carries about himself. She had argued with him the
other day, unable to hold her tongue to the further thoughts in her
mind. Since that day in the garden, Prince Henry hasn’t spoken to
her. He hasn’t acknowledged her. He hasn’t even crossed her
path. She’s seen him in the distance, but he never turned in her
direction –he never noticed she was there, and so she turned
away, going about her business.
I wasn’t asking.
Sit.
Next time... watch where you’re walking.
If you are an heir, truly, then act like one.
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Ericia could hear his low, soothing, commanding, yet somehow
gentle voice in her head. It makes her blood go hot. Her face goes
red. She slams her hand down on the desk and groans again. “Act
like one,” she says to herself. “Act like one. ”
***
Gaya, the closest maid to the Queen, straps her leather sack toher back and heads out. It’s her day off, and she’s on her way to
the Hyre Village in Aeriston to meet with the Callie family before
running some errands for herself.
Exiting the second floor and reaching the first, she passes the
royal physician.
“Gaya,” he whispers, hurrying over, careful not to draw
attention to their little conversation.
The workers of the palace have learnt to get along –of course
some will have closer bonds with others.
“Seth,” she says, smiling as she turns to him. “Lovely to see
you.”
“Gaya, I must speak with you privately,” he says, his tone stern
and his expression more on the sombre side.
“I’m on my way to Hyre Village. It’s my day off, would you
like to join me?”
“I can’t leave the palace –at any time a trainee of the armies
might need me, but may I speak with you briefly?”
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Gaya and Seth walk out into the open at the entrance road to the
palace.
Seth clears his throat and smiles, hoping to defeat the purpose of
others watching out of suspicion. “I believe you now, Gaya,” he
says. “I’ve seen the proof for myself.”
“You...” Gaya blinks, surprised, “What did you see?”
Seth laughs, but his expression quickly becomes pitiful and
sorrowful as he stares directly at Gaya once more. “A few days ago
Princess Ericia awoke to a twisted ankle, claiming to have fallen
down a flight of stairs and injure herself. She said she didn’t know
it was that bad.”
“And I’m supposing Avie was the one who called you,” she
says, knowingly.
“Your daughter,” Seth says, “does she know?”
Gaya exhales sharply, giving him a knowing look. “I won’t tell
her if it meant I’d die.”
“If she so much as says the wrong thing, Gaya, she’ll be the one
executed. Remember what happened to Marie.”
“I know, Seth,” Gaya says, annoyed. “But I cannot provoke
more of her curiosity. Just let Avie be. Ericia seems to know she
cannot tell Avie everything, and Avie knows her place in the
presence of Royals. Let it be, Seth.”
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“Ericia is victim to it, isn’t she,” Seth says, his face
expressionless.
There’s a pause, and Gaya frowns as she stares up at her friend.
“You know as well as I do that we cannot say anything about this.
This is abuse towards the Queen and the Princess. Who can we
claim such things to? The King? He’ll have us killed before the sun
is down. Again, look what happened to Marie. She knew about
the abuse towards the Queen. I’m the one picking up the pieces
for her family on behalf of the Queen.”
“Oh, Queen Olivia,” Seth mutters, “How gracious that woman
is.”
“Who knows,” Gaya says, overwhelmed with sadness, “what
King Charles might do if he finds out she’s the one behind the
Callie family’s survival...”
“Something has to be done, dearest Gaya,” Seth says. “We’re
talking about an abusive king,” he says, lowly.
“We cannot do anything much to change the situation from our
positions,” Gaya says. “if God has it so, then let it be. Such people
don’t live forever.”
“Gaya,” Seth says, frustrated, “We’re taking two bends –one
into a marriage and one into an alliance with what will be this
nation’s largest, strongest army. Not to mention we’ve all heard
the rumours of the war to come. With a ruler like him, with the
audacity to pretend as though nothing is wrong in the presence of
others and have his family silent as such, what will happen?” Seth
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says, shaking his head. “He could very well decide to become a
part of the warring side, as well, the way I see it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Gaya says, suddenly. “Don’t speak such
ideas into being.” Even now, however, Gaya knows that
everything Seth has said could be true.
“I will not have this nation fall apart,” Seth says, “if it means
losing my life.”
“Seth,” Gaya says, gently, “we both love this nation. We love
our Queen and our Princess, our fellow people and our families,
but how much do you truly think we can do to stop what’s to
come? We’re mere palace servants. Yes, even you as the Royal
Physician.” Gaya checks her watch, seeing that she’s late. “I really
must leave. I’ll be late and may not get all of my errands done
today.” She begins walking away, saying, “Don’t get involved. The
truth will reveal itself in due time.”
Seth watches her leave.
I have to do something, he says to himself, even if it means the end of
my life.
***
Prince Henry stands in the heat of the open field, supervising thetrainees. His mind is far off as he stares out, rather obliviously, at
some of the struggling men.
I have no business, he had told her, interacting freely with another
man’s betrothed.
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He can’t seem to get the questions she had asked him out of his
head.
Am I just a man’s Betrothed?
Do I not have what it must entail to be simply human?
Must I be treated like I am less than worthy?
Even of something as sacred as friendship?
What, must I cross no social boundaries?
Is this the prejudice I must face as a woman?
I, too, am an Heir, Your Highness.
Then act like one, he had said to her.
Henry smiles, absentmindedly; amused by her outspokenness
towards him. Up close, Ericia’s eyes were the most mesmerising
of all things clear and blue. Up close her blonde curls didn’t sway
with the wind, they bounced with personality. Up close, Ericia
isn’t the person she pretends to be –he could see the real her –up
close...
Prince Henry is genuinely glad, thinking it over, that Ericia isn’t
truly the way she carries herself most times. Though he was
honest in his opinion towards her needing to be more outspoken
where she needs to be as an Heir, he’s glad that she’s not the way
she appears to be most days.
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A pair of hasty footsteps approaches the smiling prince, and by
the time the person approaches him, he’s too late to snap out of it.
“Henry,” Rowan says, Henry looking towards him, his smile
fading. “King Charles has organised a meeting for the commanders
of the Phillimont and Vynierian army, as well as you and me.”
“When’s it to start?” Prince Henry asks.
“After lunch, two o’clock, in the King’s study.”
“I’ll be there,” Prince Henry says.
Rowan nods gently towards him and leaves. Prince Henry
almost wants to punch himself in the face.
Right, he remembers. She’s engaged... to him.
***
Rowan lifts the weight off his chest and brings it back down again.The palace gym is heated at noon, but he has no intention of
leaving until he feels better.
He replays the image of Henry smiling in his mind again. Yes,
Rowan knows he must have been seeing correctly again. Henry
smiled after speaking with Ericia, and he smiled in the courtyard,
as he was approached. His mind was far away. Where could it have
been?
Was he thinking of the Princess?
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Rowan hadn’t ever seen Prince Henry as amused even
throughout their many interactions as ‘friends’. It had appeared
perhaps a few times in Lystotia. But the memory of what
happened back then makes Rowan’s blood boil.
Rowan lifts the weight off of him again. He sits up, pouring a
bottle of water over himself.
He stands in the shower for a long time, getting out and
stepping out into the sun to dry his hair.
He spots Ericia, roaming with Avie by her side, laughing softly
over something he didn’t hear. He smiles, walking over to her.
“Hello, lovely lady,” he says, bowing to the princess with a grin
on his face. “What are you up to today?”
“Rowan,” she says, her eyes gleaming, “I’m just having a break
from my study. I’ll be back up there in about ten minutes. Really
needed the fresh air, though.”
“There’s something I needed to talk to you about,” Rowan
says, “May I?”
“Please do,” she says.
Rowan stands beside her, Avie falling behind the pair and
trailing loosely.
“Do you remember when I first got here?” he asks her.
“How could I forget?”
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“Do you remember when you said that you wouldn’t mind
staying at Lystotia with me?” he asks.
“I do,” says Ericia, though internally, she’s regretting having
ever said such a thing.
“I plan on asking the King for such permission. There will be a
meeting at two, this afternoon.”
“Oh,” Ericia says, startled by the idea but containing her panic
within. “You’re... sure?”
“I believe –or rather, I hope that I’ve bonded with your people
here, though I still think I haven’t done enough, but I think I
would feel much more comfortable back home in Lystotia. I’m
planning on having you meet my people there as well. I haven’t
entirely sorted out the plan, but I’m hoping that after discussing
this with your father, we can work out the details,” he says.
Ericia and Rowan continue to walk, and as Ericia listens to
Rowan’s ideas, she’s becoming more frantic inside.
“It would be great exposure for me,” Ericia says. “I’ll have to
become familiar with the people, places and things of Lystotia
eventually.” She laughs, trying not to sound nervous.
“I do hope it all goes well,” he says.
“Fingers crossed,” Ericia says, “You should get going. The
meeting will begin before you’re finished getting ready.”
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Rowan laughs, rushing off and leaving Avie and Ericia to
themselves.
Ericia waits until he’s disappeared into the palace. “Avie,” she
says, smiling a closed-mouth smile to her best friend, “Let’s go
into the garden.”
“Sure, Eri,” Avie says.
Ericia and Avie walk into the palace garden, Ericia moving
stiffly. When she gets to the bench, she looks out at the city of
Vynier, fear and frustration bubbling inside of her. Suddenly, she
finds herself gasping for air, wheezing, holding her chest and
collapsing onto the concrete bench.
“Ericia,” Avie says, her eyes going wide, “Are you okay? I’m
calling the docto-”
“-Don’t!” Ericia says, “Don’t call... anyone.”
Avie sits beside her, rubbing her back and watching her in
worry.
“I’ll be fine in a moment,” Ericia says.
When she catches her breath and calms down, she stares out at
the city, placing a hand over her heart to feel the rapid beat.
“Sooo...” Avie begins, clearing her throat, “I’m guessing you
don’t want to go to Lystotia?”
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Ericia’s eyes almost well up with tears. She turns to her friend.
“Avie,” she says, lowly –so softly that it’s almost impossible to
hear her. “What would you do if you were in my position?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Ericia,” Avie says, watching
Ericia’s tears fall.
“There’s a lot,” the Princess tells her, “that you don’t know.”
“Don’t you love him?” Avie asks.
Ericia lets out a pitiful laugh. “I should,” she says, staring at a
confused Avie, “Shouldn’t I?”
“But do you?” Avie asks, again.
Ericia huffs out a breath, rubbing the palms of her hands over
her long dress where her knees would be.
“No,” she says, her eyes staring at the pebbles on the ground. “I
don’t.”
***
At quarter to two in the afternoon, Ericia and Avie are on theground floor, discussing with an interior decorator the preference
which the princess would have between purple and green for the
accent colours of the curtains. Ericia could not return to an
attitude of study and so she wanted to cheer herself up by helping
out the palace staff.
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“I think the green would be a refreshing colour since we
haven’t seen it around here as much for a while,” Ericia says,
smiling.
The interior decorator, standing on a ladder near the window,
looks behind the Princess, her face suddenly going neutral. “Your
Highness,” she says, coming down from the ladder and standing
properly to bow.
Ericia looks behind her to find Prince Henry walking towards
her.
“Prince Henry,” she says, “What an interesting surprise. Henry
halts, close enough to the princess that she could see the glossy
reflection of the window behind her in his blue eyes. “I didn’t
expect you to approach like this.”
“Good afternoon, madam,” Prince Henry says to the interior
decorator, nodding slightly. He turns to Avie, “And to you as
well.”
“Oh G-Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Avie says, bowing
sloppily.
Ericia almost wants to laugh at her friend’s nervousness.
“Princess Ericia, if I may ask you a favour,” he says, turning to
her.
“Of course, how may I be of assistance?” she asks.
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“Will you accompany me to the King’s Study? I need to be
there in five,” he says.
“Well then,” Ericia says, “We’d better get going.”
With that, Ericia and Prince Henry walk away from the interior
decorator and Avie. Ericia glances across to the Prince beside her,
stifling a laugh. “Perhaps I should ‘argue’ with you more often,
Your Highness. Only then do things seem to work out.”
“Oh don’t be so modest, Princess, if I were asking this favour