Part 26
With the keys secure and my access to the rest of my family’s room safely in my lap I was able to rest.
I had certainly talked too much today, my voice wasn't coming out anymore even if I was trying to speak.
Lionel was puttering about the room, fixing the pillows around me, straightening up the bed which had just been freshly made by some of the maids that Bethany had sent over, and drawing the thin gauzy curtains that my mother loved shut over the bright windows.
“These curtains certainly don't block much light…” he was staring at the barely darkened room, the material was thin and light making it so you could see out of the room even with them closed. They cast pretty shadows of different colors across the walls as the sunshine filtered through them. “Maybe they have some heavier ones in storage somewhere that we can put up?”
“His Majesty preferred these.” one of the girls motioned to the curtains, “they aren't meant to block out light, they're meant to soften it throughout the room.”
“But… curtains are meant to block light. How is she going to take a nap if the room is this bright?”
The two of them continued to bicker back and forth as I settled lower into the soft pillows that were on my father’s reading couch. It was just as comfy as I remembered in here and it still smelled like the perfumes my mother would wear and spritz around the room.
I was falling asleep right where I was, curled up in the pile of pillows that Lionel had propped up around me and snuggling deeper into the blanket that he had grabbed from the end of their bed. It was the soft gray one that my mother would use like a cloak on cold mornings and in winter evenings. He would throw it around his shoulders slip his arms through some of the folds and walk around as it billowed behind him like a fluffy cape.
I could almost forget what had happened like this, it was almost like I was back to when they were still here. Curling up and dozing off my parents whispered with their heads close together right next to me while the moon rose higher and higher up in the window.
Almost.
Lionel gently shook me from my dozing, insisting that I couldn't sleep on the couch. He scooped me up and gently settled me onto my parent's bed, helping me get tucked in and comfortable.
“I’ll be right outside in the sitting room if you need me.” He smiled softly at me before slipping out of the door and closing it quietly behind him.
I had meant to stay awake for a bit longer, to look around and start gathering some treasures from my mother and father, to find something to stash all the things I wished to gather later tonight from my brother cousins, and uncles. Instead, I slipped off to sleep, the fastest I had in a long time.
Happily wrapped up in the blankets my parents used to wrap me up in whenever it was storming outside and I was too terrified to sleep by myself. Curled up against the pillows they would turn into little mountains and fortresses when my brother and I wanted to play castles and dragons with them.
I slept through dinner, which I barely remember Lionel waking me up for and carefully helping me eat in my half-asleep state. Then I slept through the quick visit from the palace doctor, the worried mumbling between him and Lionel sounding far off as I drifted back to my cozy dreams.
I didn't wake up until the small sliver of the moon was shining bright and high through the large window that overlooked the garden from the treetops. Mother’s and father’s room was situated over the family foyer, their big arched window sat right on top of the grand window that looked out from between the two Mongolia trees. Their view peered out from between the pink flowering branches.
The lightweight curtains barely blocked my view of the stars, the colorful muslin allowing the glowing sparks to be seen from where I was lying.
Still, I wanted to see them even clearer than they were now.
I carefully pushed myself up from the bed, untangling the blankets and pillows from around me as I moved to the edge of the bed. It was higher off the ground than the others, often-times when I was smaller my parents would need to help me up and down it.
Now though, as I swung my legs on its side, my feet could reach the plush carpet on the floor beneath it. I tried to put some weight on my shaky legs, but they began to buckle beneath me once again.
How would I get to the window? I wanted to move the curtains and see the stars without any interference, like how my father would show them to me when he would rock me to sleep in his arms when I was little.
Standing in front of the window, the curtains held to the side by the small hook on the wall, swaying back and forth as he would sing little songs about the lights in the sky and pet my hair until I fell asleep in his hold.
I wanted to see them again, to point out and name them as my brother and I had done for so long. To recall the stories and history behind the ones that my father would tell us about.
There was far more furniture in this room than there was in the one I had been staying in. There were tables and couches close to the bed and window, I could use them to hold myself up or to pull myself along to the window.
The arching glass reached the floor, so I would be able to sit on the stone near it to look out of the window. I wouldn't have to try and pull myself up by the curtains to see anything.
Pulling myself off of the bed and onto the thick woven rug that lay underneath the bed that my mother had gotten from his homelands, I landed on my knees. Raising myself on them shakily I reached out to cling onto the draping blankets of the bed.
I carefully pull myself along the bedside, gently shuffling on my knees as I do. Slowly, very slowly, and painfully I make my way across the bed to the dark wood end table at its head. I bring my arms away from the bed, stretching them up and out towards the solid table at my side. It takes more effort to keep myself pulled up on the hard surface than it did to pull and grasp at the blankets and bedsheets.
From one surface to another, from one piece of familiar furniture to the next, I pulled and shuffled my way to the window. Off of one woven rug onto another soft carpet and off of that onto the stone floor, I dragged myself along the floor. Shuffling along on my knees and dragging myself along with the furniture.
Clinging to the soft sides of lounges or heavy blankets, handing off of the sides and back of the high claw-footed couches and chairs, or pulling myself along by the table tops and sides of tables, desks, and towering bookshelves.
Slowly, ever so slowly, and painfully I brought myself from the bed to the window. I had to crawl across the last bit of the floor, dragging myself across the stones until I could press up against the cold glass.
Brushing the curtains aside I slide up as close as I can, leaning against the clear panes and fogging them up with my breath. The curtains fluttered shut around me, cooning me against the window as I stared breathlessly up at the stars that shone through the sky.
I could see the familiar shapes and clusters of glowing dots in the inky drapery of the night sky. The names and stories my father would whisper to my brother and I would flood back into my memory as I gazed upon them all.
The little sparkling groups and solo stars that my brother and I had named ourselves and come up with countless stories for were shining brightly at me. The laughter and little arguments would have returned to me as I stared at them fondly.
Part 25
I turned to look at him, not wanting to look away from the pretty scene in the garden before me but it was rude to not watch someone when they were talking to you.
“We found you on the floor after the curtain rod fell on you, but how did you get there? Why were you over there? Was something wrong? Were you looking for someone?”
I wanted to see the stars, I was trying to get to the window so I could see them. I would have walked over and moved the curtain aside, but I was having trouble doing that. I looked down at my legs, I wondered if they were any better now. Will I be able to walk tonight? I still wanted to see the stars, and I wanted to go and get some things from the rooms of my parents and uncles and cousins and some things from my brother’s side of our room.
I drew my arms further into the sleeves of my father's to-big sweater. It wasn't what I asked for this morning, but I was certainly very happy to be wearing it. It felt so formatting, almost like he was still here and giving me a little hug. It made me want to gather things from all the rest of my family even more. I wanted to be surrounded by them in whatever way I could be now, to be with them even if it was just with their things.
“Princess?”
“I want to sleep in my parent's room.”
Lionel went quiet, a perturbed look on his face. We stared at each other for a while in silence, the snow falling past the window casting little dancing shadows into the rest of the room.
“Are you sure?” was all he asked, worried about painting his features. “The last time… it made your condition worse the last time.”
“I want to be in their room.” I curled up more into my father’s pale green sweater. Lioenl’s eyes bored me as he considered it.
“Ok. Let's go get you set up in there then, it's about time for you to take a little nap anyway. Are you done with your tea?”
I nodded softly, letting him take the little teacup away from me and set it back down on the tray that sat on the table to my left. He gently picked me up and took me into the hall.
“Please fetch the head of the house staff, the princess would like to sleep in her majesty’s quarters tonight, so we need to make some arrangements,” he spoke to one of the guards that stood by the door, I recognized him. He was one of the ones who often sparred with my cousins during their sword lessons.
He nodded and rushed off, leaving the other young man to guide Lionel down the long hall, up the curving staircase, and towards my parent's room.
The door must have been locked, because instead of entering he helped me sit into one of the hallway’s chairs as we waited for whoever he had sent to be fetched.
“Princess.” He was speaking quietly again, I must have gone into a little daze again. “If it gets too much, just let me know. It won't be any trouble to get you back to the guest room where you’ve been staying.”
I nodded to show I understood and he smiled again.
We had to wait for a little while, it felt much longer but perhaps that was just because I longed to be in my parent's room again.
Sometimes, when my brother and I were much smaller, our mother and father would let us sleep with them in their massive bed. We would spend all night curled up against them, falling asleep listening to their voices rumble in their chests as they spoke of the day's events or told us little stories. We would wake up to our mother curling his fingers through our hair and our father’s golden eyes gazing at us like we were the world.
Their room was a dark gray with accents of greens and gold. Mother always had vases filled to bursting with flowers and herbs and whatever other greenery he could find all around their quarters. Their bed was made of black wood with four posters carved with dragons curling around them as they climbed towards the canopy at the top. The canopy was made of wood too, with visions of mountains and the heavens carved and painted into the underside of them, so you could see the pictures when lying in bed. In the summer light, gauzy fabric in pale colors would hang and drape over the canopy top and down the sides, making it seem like it floated in the middle of the room as if any breeze would sway the swaths of curtains around the bed. In the winter heavier curtains would be drawn tightly around the bed at night to keep it warm and cozy on the inside.
“Hello again Sir Lionel.'' The sound of a stiff voice came from down the hall as the guard from earlier returned and took his place on the other side of me. The man he brought with him was Clahadore. He served under my Uncle Daro, who was in charge of all things relating to the palace's upkeep and staffing. I suppose with Uncle Daro gone, Clahadore had taken charge of his duties.
“Clahadore, The princess wishes to”
“To sleep in their majesty’s chambers, yes I am aware.”
I didn't have much interaction with Clahadore, but I can remember I never really liked him. He didn't like my Uncles and I think that was why, though if he was always this standoffish then perhaps that was another reason.
“Brilliant, the door please then.”
“Would it not be better for her higHer Highnessep in her chambers?”
“The princess has requested to sleep in their Majesties', I'm sure you can understand why a grieving child would wish to do so, yes?”
“She isn't a child, she's the princess of this empire. She should sleep in her chambers until the master chambers are empty and set up properly for her.”
“She is a child, regardless of status.” Lionel gritted out, gesturing something to the two guards next to me, “Besides that, the chambers of the royal family are not to be disturbed. Maintained, but not changed. I believe we discussed this already?”
“We have.”
“Brilliant.”
The two guards next to me hadn't moved when Lionel motioned to them, instead, they were glancing back and forth between the two as they argued.
“The door then.” Lionel waved at the door behind him
“No, I think not.”
“Pardon?”
“You are from here Sir Lionel so I shall pardon you. Around here rulers do not just move into their predecessor's quarters before they are cleaned out and prepared. The princess should remain in her rooms until these are ready.”
“Clahadore, unlock their master's chambers.”
I hadn't seen Lionel mad before, but I think that if this goes on any further then I will soon.
“I outrank you here and I will not allow such a -”
“I would like to sleep in my parent's room tonight.” I finally spoke up, causing both men to whip their heads around to me.
“Princess I will have these rooms ready for you by the end of the week, until then-”
“I don't want them changed.” I stared at him, a frown pulling at my mouth “I want to sleep in my parent's room.”
“Well, I-”
“She outranks you here Klahadore” Lionel was grinning wide as he once again gestured towards the door, “So please do unlock the door from her highness.”
Clahadore set his jaw, glaring daggers at Lionel, before turning and bowing to me as he went to do just that.
Lionel picked me up and walked me into my parent's room, as we passed Klahadore I reached out causing him to stop.
“Yes, princess?” Clahadore’s smile was sickly sweet and seemed too tight for his face.
“The key please.”
“Pardon?”
“I don't want any of my family’s rooms touched, none of their things. So I want the key.”
I would need it to get into their rooms later to gather some treasures and things to curl up with. I hadn't thought about whether the rooms would be locked or not earlier but if the key to all their rooms was here I may as well grab it.
Part 24
Bethany had left after finishing up with my hair, leaving me and Lionel in the guest room with my lunch, or maybe it was brunch? I was having trouble telling the time apart anymore. These past few months had felt either like years that dragged on or minutes that flew by too fast to remember.
“Would you like to have lunch by the window again?” Lionel was smiling as he crouched next to me. He was a lot bigger than I had remembered or thought of him.
I was still staring at my father’s sweater sleeve, playing with the fabric. I still wanted to see their things, their rooms, the room that I shared with my brother. I wanted to see the stars and the garden.
Looking out the window I could see that the sun was still in the sky, too early to look at the stars.
“Can… Can I eat in the garden?”
“The garden?” Lionel looked at the tray of food, the small china plate still steaming from the heat of the fresh pastry, before glancing out the window. “The one outside?”
Were Not all gardens outside? Maybe he was asking if I meant the exterior one that the guests could use or the interior one that was for the royal family.
I shook my head softly, “The inside one.”
“The inside one…” Lionel looked more confused but still nodded slowly. “Of course. The inside one. Let me just ask them to… um.”
He stood quickly and poked his head out of the door, speaking hushedly to the guards stationed outside of it. I could hear the two men, the ones from this morning I think, talk back and forth about it for a while.
“The inside gardens?”
“I don't think we have a garden inside the palace… Do we?”
“Does she mean the greenhouse?”
“Those are down by the barracks and wells though, I don't think she was ever allowed there.”
“She might have been with one of her uncles. A few of them lived there for a while.”
“I'm pretty sure all of our gardens are outside.”
“But His Majesty loved flowers, maybe the princess’s father had an interior flower garden quilt for him?”
“That does sound like something he would do.”
“Yeah, he was always doing grand romantic gestures. It was sweet.”
“I think we would have heard of it though, wouldn't we? We were his guards. We would know if it was a thing.”
“Maybe it was in the works before… ‘it’... happened? What if it was a surprise she was in?”
“Could be… but I still think we would have known about it. The prince was always making grand gestures for his husband but he was never good at being sneaky about it.”
“Good point.”
“So what inside gardens could she be talking about then?” Lionel interrupted them, “She specifically said ‘the inside one’ when I tried asking which garden she meant.”
“We could ask one of the handmaids.”
“Yeah, they would know. They spent a lot of time with her.”
“And where are they?”
“Can I go and find them?”
“I would prefer if you two stayed here and sent someone to find them.”
“We’ll do that then.”
Lionel ducked back inside the room while I heard one of the guards call over someone else to send them looking for Bethany again. I doubt she went far, she was only just in here after all.
“Just give us a moment princess! We’re working on getting the garden set up for your lunch!”
“I meant the interior one.” I tried to help him out, I knew now that he hadn't meant the exterior garden.
He deflated a little, sighing “You heard all that?”
I nodded.
“Well I'm glad it amused you a bit at least.” he smiled at me “It's good to see you smile, I don't think I've seen you do it before.”
Was I smiling? I suppose the exchange outside of the door was funny, so perhaps I was.
“So the interior gardens. Where are those?”
“Near my room.” My voice was starting to hurt again, hopefully, he would understand what I meant before I had to stop speaking again. Though I could always write down what I wanted to say. I looked at my hands, they were shaking if I held them off of my lap for too long, so perhaps that wouldn't work just yet.
“These?” He pointed out of the window, I shook my head.
“My bedroom.”
“Your bedroom… but not this bedroom?”
The braid Bethany had done bounced as I nodded a little.
“The royal gardens, the ones in the interior ring of the palace?”
I nodded again, He had gotten it.
“Ah. The inside ones.” he shook his head, smiling bigger than before. “It's too cold to eat outside in the gardens. You can eat by a window that has a view of them if you would like?”
Soon enough I was by the large floor-to-ceiling window of the family foyer that looked out to the garden. The foyer was at ground level and was framed by two massive Mongolian trees, blooming bright pink throughout the winter.
Lionel had brought over one of the lounge chairs and set it up next to a small end table in front of the window for my lunch.
“I didn't know there was such a nice garden in the interior palace. It looks very well maintained.
“Mother took care of it.”
“I see. It's very lovely. I didn't know some things could blossom in the cold.”
“He wanted there to always be color near our rooms, so he got a lot of things that would bloom in every season for us.”
Lionel let me rest my voice throughout the last of my meal. The sandwich was a simple one that my mother would often make for me, chicken and curried rice on thick pieces of dark bread with a simple soup on the side. The party was one of the ones that the chef would make nearly daily, the ones that my cousins and I would pull off elaborate plans to get before tea time when they were fresh out of the oven.
When I started to eat the pastry Lionel told me, “The chef said that if you wanted any more of those just let him know, he mentioned something about you not having to pull off any secret plans and sneaking about for them?”
I must have smiled again because Lionel beamed brightly at me. Out of the corner of my vision, I could see him pump his hand in victory. He reminded me a lot of my uncles, he and them were similar in many ways. The little victories they celebrated over my behavior, the smiles, the clumsy movements as they rushed to and fro to get things. My uncles had been knighted by my father or grandfather at some point, to give them fancy titles one of the younger ones had explained.
I wonder if all knights are like this, or if it's just the good ones.
Sitting in the family foyer by the garden reminded me of what I had wanted so much just a few days ago. My father's letter, his sweater, my mother's book of flowers, and the clothing from his culture.
I wanted to stay in their room tonight.
I could feel my eyes start to droop shut as I watched the snow start to fall into the garden. I was sipping my tea, having to use both my hands to hold up the little cup without it shaking. My throat felt better but I didn't want to talk much more, perhaps just one last thing before I fell asleep again.
“After you finish lunch princess it would be best if you got some rest. You hurt your head fairly badly last night and you need to recover more of your strength.” he was looking me over, frowning a little when he saw the bruise on my head again, “The doctor said you should be fine, but after this morning I think it's best if you take it easy for a bit longer. Speaking of last night, what exactly happened?”
Part 23
Both nodded.
Upon hearing their names I remembered them again. Lily and Matilda, or Tilda I suppose, were some of Mother’s maids. They and Bethany and a few others were responsible for his daily preparations. They helped him bath, dress, do his hair, and do his makeup.
They were his handmaids. I had some as well, as did my father and brother and uncles and cousins. They were bright-eyed young girls, barely older than I was. They were not in charge of bathing me just yet. My older maids and nanny did that, but they would always help brush and style my hair and titter about which of my dresses I should wear.
They were always well-versed in the current fashions and what colors and styles I would look best in. I had three, and they could have been triplets for all I knew. All of them had big dark doe eyes with shiny black hair that fell to their knees or mid-back. They always wore their hair in buns on the back or sides of their heads and wore the same red eyeshadow on the corner of their eyelids and the same pink hue on their lips every day. Noa, Mio, and Sora. I wonder if they were still here?
“So for now, let's not bother the little princess too much. I’ll finish up with her here, the two of you go run along and find something to help out with.”
Lily and Tilda nodded and curtseyed. First to me and then to Bethany, before they scampered on out, tittering on about more hairstyles they thought I would look darling in.
“I'm sorry about them, little one.” Bethany directed her attention back to me, “They’re just excited. Everyone is.”
She continued brushing my hair out, gently carding it through the tangles and waves of my chestnut hair.
“About what?” My voice was still so foreign sounding to me. It was quiet and unsure, shaky even. I still half-believed it wasn't mine.
Bethany was smiling at me through the mirror as she put the brush down and started to braid my hair into one thick braid. “About you.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and she paused when she realized I was still confused.
“You haven't done much these past few months princess, well. No, that sounded wrong. Apologies, let me try again.”
She took a moment to think, muttering to herself as she started braiding my hair again.
“It's been nearly five months since… Sir Lionel arrived. You know that right?”
I nodded slowly. I knew she didn't mean just since Sir Lionel arrived, but I was thankful she avoided saying it all the same.
“And that's a long time, right?”
I nodded again. Mother always said that the winter passed by slowly during its nearly six-month reign over our lands. We were a mountain kingdom, far away from the sea and high up in the region, so winter was long and the year was often cold.
“Well during the first two months, you slept. For nearly the whole two months.”
Had it been that long? That whole time seemed like a blur, but I suppose by the time I came it was fully winter.
“Fall was just about halfway through when Lionel got here, and you slept through the rest of it and the start of winter. And then you were…''She pauses again, unsure of how to go on “You weren't well. You were very sick. I couldn't move or speak. You could barely sit up or eat or drink on your own. Sometimes it seemed like you were barely awake at all. You were like that for almost three months.”
She finished the braid and met my eyes through the mirror again. “Then just recently you started to move on your own. Sir Lionel was so excited that you were sitting up in bed by yourself and that you were eating and drinking again. He would tell us every day about how much you ate and where you took your lunch that day and how you were no longer crying in your sleep every night.” she stops again, taking a deep shuddering breath, had I still been looking at her through the mirror I might have seen the tears that she wiped quickly from her eyes. “And then just last night you left the bed all and then this morning you started talking.
Talking! I didn't believe it when Tilda told me, even when Lionel practically went on a joyful rampage about the palace to announce it to everyone. And then you spoke! I heard it, you asked for your clothes!”
I was playing with the sleeve’s hem, tucking my hand into the to-big sleeve and pulling some of the extra length into it, thumbing gently over the fabric.
“You’re finally getting better. And we’re all very happy about it, little princess.”
“I'm sorry for worrying everyone.”
I don't think it was what any of them had wanted to hear, but it was all I could think to say.
“We all understand, of course. We were all here when it happened. I… I saw that horrible room, I know you saw it. I wish I could have stopped you from seeing it.”
I couldn't say anything to that. I don't know if I wanted to have not seen it, I don't think I would have understood otherwise.
“And I… I know what his majesty tried to do, what he did. But-”
She was crying now, standing behind me and trying her best not to.
“He tried to do it because he couldn't… He didn't think he was strong enough to be alone. And He didn't want you to suffer either, so he tried to bring you both to the rest of them. And I know he regrets it, I know that if he had known that you would still be here then he would be here too. He wouldn't have left you alone willingly. He was scared, scared that you were going to suffer at the hands of that man-'' she spat the words out venomously, she meant my grandfather I think, “And he didn't want that for you. He wanted your family to be together in the land beyond here, and he wouldn't have left you here on purpose.”
I think I was crying again. I can't tell anymore I think, like my eyes have gone numb to the feeling of crying from all the tears that I’ve spilled these past five months. Somewhere in the back of my mind recently I had been angry. My mother had left me here, to be alone. My father and brothers and uncles had fought to stay with me, to stay alive, but he had come running to me and then took himself away just as quickly. I could have had him still. I wouldn't have been alone.
“Why is she crying?” Lionel must have entered the room while we were talking, “Is something wrong? Is she hurt again? What's happening?”
“I think she's just tired.” Bethany said instead of an explanation, “Did you bring her something to eat?”
“Yes. The chef suggested this tea for her throat and voice and made some of her favorite pastries to celebrate and also a sandwich.'' He held the tray he was holding a little higher. “Do the two of you need another moment?”
“No, I’m done with what you wanted me to do.” she squeezed my shoulder and leaned over me to grab a small tie for my hair, while doing so she whispered “I know it must feel like he left you, but he truly loved you and he wouldn't have left if he knew you would be alone here.”
Part 22
I tried to speak again, but nothing came out. I wanted one of my dresses, the loose fern green one that was lined, the one father had gotten me last winter. It had the sweetest matching cloak with a soft and fuzzy wool lining on it and a hood with little mittens attached to each of the sides with a braided rope. It was fern green in a Gingham pattern with other paler greens and grays mixed in.
“Does your voice hurt?” Bethany was good at guessing things, she always knew what mother wanted before he even seemed to know he wanted it. She must have some kind of magic talent for it because she was right. My voice did hurt.
I nodded softly, and the maids around us cooed before Bethany quickly waved them off with her hand and they all started to move again.
“How about you hold one finger up for one of the dresses from Reobeth, and two fingers up for one of your dresses?” Her smile was kind. I'm starting to see why my mother liked her so much.
I didn't interact with her a lot, I didn't interact with a lot of the staff besides the few that were assigned especially to my brother, cousins, and I or the ones that were so busy with my uncles and parents that they hardly ever left their sides.
Bethany was almost one of those. Though my parents always tried to be without the staff when they were with us. They wanted to have some time alone with us whenever they could, they wanted my brother and I not to be watched constantly. Especially when we were with them.
I smiled back a bit, I think. It might have been more of a grimace because doing so made my head hurt more again. I held up two fingers and she smiled even brighter.
“One of yours then! Should I have someone pick out a nice comfy one for you today? Or do you want a special one?”
I wanted my green one. It was comfy and warm and I wanted to wear one of my dresses again. I had been sitting in borrowed nightclothes for months now. Items from the guest closets and spares from the laundry. I wanted to wear something that I had loved to wear. But my voice hurt a lot and I didn't want to explain exactly which one I wanted. Maybe she would understand with just a few words?
“Father.. Green.” I tried to gesture with a little cloak with my hands as I spoke.
Bethany’s head tilted to the side and she seemed to ponder a bit before cracking another smile and nodding. “I think I understand! I’ll go get it myself for you, ok?”
I nodded again and she spoke to some of the others before whisking her way out of the room. Two of the maids helped me out of bed and into the bath.
The large porcelain tub was full of water and the room was thick with steam. It smelled like woods, sage, and lavender, my father’s and mother’s usual perfume scents, and the ones my brother and I had adopted for our use as well.
I was helped out of the damp nightgown and gently slipped into the bath to soak for a little bit. One of the girls went out, probably to help the others clean up the mess I had left and to make up the bed again. They would probably need to strip and clean the sheets off of it.
I needed to remember to apologize to them for the mess I had made.
I spent a while in the warm water of the tub. One of the maids gently scrubbed the foamy soap through my hair while another carefully washed my skin with a soft cloth and fragrant serums.
The bath water had started to turn cold by the time I was gently guided out of the large porcelain tub.
Bethany had slipped into the room at some point, holding a small pile of folded green and brown clothes.
“I brought the clothes you asked for little princess!” She smiled brightly, holding up one of my older dresses, a simple brown one that was long-sleeved and floor length and lined on the inside with a thick fuzzy layer. Alongside that, she had brought one of my father’s favorite sweaters, the pale green one he would wear when he took my brother and me out of our beds to look at the stars on chilly nights.
Cold nights were the clearest he had always told us. He would bundle us up and bring us out to one of the tall towers with a flat roof or out into the gardens. One time he had even taken us into the carriage to go to a small mountaintop not too far away to look at the sky.
It was a full moon in mid-winter, the sky was the clearest I had ever seen it. Mother had come with us, insisting on wrapping both of us up into thick woolen blankets even with our coats and cloaks on.
Father had been wearing this sweater then, underneath his thick winter cloak of dark gray wool. He had tucked me into the long folds of it while he held to look at the stars, pointing out the ones he knew were our favorites. I had fallen asleep with my head on his shoulder on the way back to the carriage, nuzzling into the soft sweater as he walked us back with my mother and brother.
I didn't say anything as Bethany helped me get dressed. She and the maids had dried me off, one of them was still patting my hair dry while Bethany slipped the dress over my head while yet another girl was putting my leggings and long socks on.
After the sweater was put over me the girls helped me out into the guest room. It was clean and smelled like fresh linens. The bed was newly made and the rug had been changed out.
They sat me down on the plush vanity stool while Bethany started to brush my hair. One of the maids, a girl with blonde hair and bright emerald eyes, was smiling and whispering happily to the brunette this morning. One of them was applying creams to my hands and face while the other was tying the shoes that she had slipped onto my feet.
“Do you want your hair in any particular way today princess?” Bethany’s voice snapped me out of the daze I had fallen back into.
When I said nothing and made no move to reply the other two girls pipped up eagerly.
“Oh! Maybe she can do birds in your hair! They’re all the rage right now!” The brunette clapped excitedly from her place by my side, cheerfully speaking but keeping her voice quiet still.
“Oh! Perhaps we can do curls! Reobeth fashion is always into curls!”
“Maybe even little buns!”
“Yes! Little braids made into buns with the rest of her hair down in curls!”
The two were tittering at each other, bouncing ideas back and forth between them while Bethany and I watched.
Well, I was watching them. Bethany was watching me.
“Lilly, Tilda.”
Both girls spun around, answering her quickly.
“I understand we all are very excited about the Princess making great strides in her recovery, but we can't go back to how things were just yet. Let's give her some space and try not to overwhelm her with too many options.”
Part 21
“What?” Lionel looked from her to me, placing his hand back on my head and moving me so I was looking at him, “I didn't hear, did she really?!”
“She did! She was trying to say something!” She was jumping more now, even throwing in a little twirl. “I thought I heard a familiar little noise and when I popped up she looked at me and tried to say it again! I saw her mouth move and heard her little voice!”
Did she know me? I tried to pull my head away from Lionel's hand so I could see her. She sounded like she knew me.
“What was she saying?” Lionel kept his grip on me. It isn't rough but he was most certainly not letting go. “You heard what she was trying to say, what was she saying?”
“She was stuttering a bit, I think she was trying to say something like ‘I'm’ uh... ’I’m something!”
“What is it, are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Is it in your head? Do you feel like you’ll be sick again?”
Lionel’s questions were like a rapid-firing bow, shooting off one after another so quickly I could barely understand him.
I was really dizzy and now I was really tired. Could I go back to sleep for a little bit before they start asking so many questions?
“Give her a moment! Give the princess a moment!” The doctor was getting into the noise again. He swatted Lionel's hand away and gave the maid a quick order to go get something for me to use if I got sick again.
His hand replaced Lionel’s on my head, using it to guide my face around so he could look at me properly.
“She seems fine. She must have just woken up and moved suddenly. It can happen after someone hits their head as she did.”
“She was just trying to say that she wasn't!” Lionel turned from the older man back to me again, “Are you alright? What's wrong?” He could barely get out any more words before the doctor cut him off again.
“We don't know what she was trying to say! What matters is that she was speaking. Now stop asking her so many questions and let her gather herself for a moment!” he was gruff and grumbly. He reminded me of the military doctor that my Uncle always went to see. Especially Uncle Barret always grumbled about how the palace doctors never knew what they were doing. He was the one with the heavy metal clubs, he and Uncle Quetzal were the most massive people I had ever met. They could hold me in one hand if they wanted to.
“Fine…”
Lionel and the doctor whipped their heads back to me. My voice was a little louder than a mouse’s whisper, but they had heard it this time.
“She spoke…” Lionel’s eyes went wide and the doctor's mouth went agape again.
“She spoke!'' Lionel shot up from the chair next to the bed, “I need to write to the king! And his majesty the prince! This is astounding!” he practically flew out of the room, the door slamming into the wall as he went.
“Careful with the doors!”
There was barely a moment of silence before Lionel burst back into the room again, “Oh my goodness she’s speaking.” he whispered this time, staring at me.
“Yes, we’ve established that already.”
“What does this mean? Is she recovering? You need to do an exam right now, to check on her health’s progress!”
“It could mean any variety of things.” The doctor growled out, “I think that right now the princess needs to rest.”
He then, with surprising speed, got me settled back into the bed with instructions to rest and that someone would be with me in a minute to help me bathe and clean up and get something to eat if I could stomach it.
Grabbing Lionel by the arm he then managed to pull the knight out of the room, closing the door quickly and gently behind them as I heard their voices trail off as they argued down the hall.
Maybe he was Uncle Barrett's and Uncle Quetzal’s doctor, he seemed like he was used to dealing with strong and headstrong people.
I didn't fall back asleep this time, though I tried to for once. I snuggled deep into the warmth of the blankets and the soft pillows and shut my eyes, trying to fall back into a nap. My head hurt and my body felt like it was going to fall apart if I didn't get some rest, but still sleep evaded me.
I suppose I could just lay here with my eyes closed for a while. Mother always used to say that even just laying somewhere with your eyes closed for a bit was enough to get some rest. Not as good as actually sleeping, but better than staring at the ceiling restlessly.
So I did just that, feeling the sun rays that shone through the windows dance on my eyelids. There were some noises from outside of the room, hushed whispering giddy scales, and a few happy giggles. I wonder what had happened to make everyone so happy?
Maybe I'll get to know you soon. Or maybe I'll fall asleep in a little bit.
The door gently swooshed open and I heard some quiet footsteps enter, there was more hushed whipping. I moved my head and opened my eyes to look at them.
It was some maids, one of the ladies stewards my mother kept, and two guards who were poking their heads in the room to look at me. The girl from earlier was in here again, smiling brightly at one of the other girls as they disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. I heard the water start to run a moment later.
“Good morning little princess!” the lady steward, Bethany I think?, spoke quietly. Her smile was bright and her big blue eyes were sparkling.
Mother always liked Bethany, he said that she seemed to light up a room and that she was very good at getting things done. Father liked her because she did the work that three of his stewards couldn't get done in a day.
“Hel-Hello.” It still sounded odd, the little noises that were made whenever I tried to speak. It felt like last night when my legs were not truly my legs anymore.
There were little gasps and all the movement around us seemed to pause. I saw the guards beam at each other before their heads ducked back outside of the room, one of them crossed over to the other side of the door and I could hear them whispering to each other.
The maids were all looking at me, I could feel their gazes on my body as I sat in the bed. I was probably a mess right now. Mother said that only your staff should ever see you as a mess, it helped maintain the air of royalty that we needed to keep around us with the rest of the castle.
“We’re here to bath you and to get you into some new clothes. Would you like one of the dresses that the prince from Reobeth sent along? Or would you like one of your dresses?”
Part 20
I let out a heavy breath as I gripped the edge of the curtain a little bit more, finally having a grasp on it with one hand. I struggled for a moment, trying to reach out and grab the curtain with my other as well before both sets of my fingers had a hold of the heavy fabric.
I could use it to pull myself closer to the window, and then I could tug the curtains down, and finally, I would be able to see the stars again.
So I pulled, harshly on the edges of the damask curtain, trying to tug myself forward to the window.
I felt the heavy fabric grow as I started to inch forward again before something cracked and it went slack. The metal rob slammed into my head, a heavy ringing noise sounding out into the quiet room as it bounced against the stone as well.
It shattered the silence of the chambers, and I barely heard the worried shouts as the door burst open before everything went black again.
“You’re sure she’ll be alright?”
I could barely hear Sir Lionel's voice at the endgame of my mind as he fretted.
“The princess should be fine. The curtain isn't heavy and it didn't fall from a great height. She only passed out because it hit her head and then her head hit the floor, and because of how weak her constitution has been as of late.”
A cold hand was pressed against my forehead, I whined at it wanting to sink further into the warmth of the bed around me.
“She just needs some rest and a cold compress on her head for a while to help with any swelling or bruising.”
“Will she wake soon?”
“She seems to be coming around now.”
I must have fallen back into sleep. When I opened my eyes I was back in my bedroom, the sun setting beyond the ledge of my windowsill. I was on the lounge tucked between large towering bookshelves in the semi-circle of the old tower that had once been next to the room my brother and I shared. When we were born my father had torn the wall down to expand the room. He had wanted us to share a room until we were of age, something of comfort and necessity to twins he had always said, we shared the womb so we should share a room until we were grown.
He had wanted to rip out the tower, but it was structurally important to the walls surrounding our family’s private gardens. So part of it stayed the section that faced the interior of the gardens, leaving a small semi-circle alcove that my uncles had turned into a little personal library and reading nook for my brother and me.
Like all things in our shared space, the items on the left were his and the ones on the right were mine. The left side of the room had his bed, his toys, his desk, and his vanity while the right side of it held all of mine. The closet on the left was his and the one on the right was mine. They had a shared space in between them where we kept all of our shiny accessories. Our crowns, jewels, and other ceremonial items were stored and displayed in the small circle room that we shared between our closets.
There was one bathroom, with one tub and shower feature and one soaking space. The right side cabinets were mine and the left ones were his, the two sinks were split in the same way.
Our sitting room was split more literally down the middle. I favored the soft greens and grays of our family’s colors while he liked the bright and bold blues and silvers of it. So the sitting room we shared had blue and silver furniture on the left side with soft green and gray accents, while the right side had sage green and gray furniture with pale blue and silver accents.
My side featured more cushions and lounging spots, while he had more of a rigid structure to it.
It took our Uncle Altan months to design it all. To “Match each of them in their individuality but to make it also work well together as one cohesive space. Pleased for each one separately but also together as a whole.” as he always put it.
My favorite spot was the little tower reading nook. My brother’s shelves were on the left, filled with books about all sorts of things. He enjoyed reading but he didn't do it nearly as often or much as I did and he had no particular preference when it came to the subject of his books.
My shelves were filled with books about old myths, stories, and fables from around the world. Different languages, skirts, and types from scrolls to the classical hardbound style of the book lay piled high and thick on it.
I was sitting there as I read one of the newest novels that Uncle Ashur had brought back from his most recent travels to Reobeth. It was an old fable about a flower god, who spent all their time in the fields wallowing over the death of all of their mortal lovers. It was a story about how all the flowers were made. The flower god was so distrustful and wanted to remember all their lives forever, so they made a special flower that signified each one to live and grow in their lover’s name for eternity.
It was beautiful really. I was about halfway through it, again. I have read it more than five times already. When I heard the door to my quarters slam open, then the sitting room ones.
I put my book down and slipped out of my bedroom to see my mother standing there frantically running around, shoving things off shelves and throwing open trunks and chests in his search for something.
“Momma?”
He whipped around and I screamed.
My eyes shot open. I was soaked through with a cold sweat as I looked around dizzily from where I lay. The image of my mother, blood streaming from his eyes and mouth, and a gaping hole where his heart should have been was flashing before me even though my eyes were open and I was out of the dream memory of that day.
I pushed myself up from the bed, I felt nauseous. Lionel was there in an instant, putting his hand on my forehead, and speaking to me.
I couldn't hear him, not the words he was saying. I heard his voice but not what he was trying to tell me. I threw myself away from him and leaned over the other side of the bed before I was sick.
After I had spilled my stomach onto the floor I heard him again, felt his hand on my forehead again. I could see his face now, he looked very concerned. His mouth was moving but I still couldn't understand him. Was he speaking a language I knew or had my mind finally crumpled all the way?
There was more movement along the edge of my vision, I tried to turn and look but it made the room spin. I was so dizzy and anytime I moved I felt like I was going to be sick again.
Someone must have gone to get the doctor because he was back in the room soon. A maid was moving quickly by the bedside to clean up the mess I had made, I should remember to apologize for it later. Maybe she would like some flowers from Momma’s garden?
“Princess?” Lionel’s voice came in suddenly and loudly, and I jolted.
“Princess?’ He spoke again, quieter this time. His stare was boring to me before he turned back to the doctor, “you said she should be fine! She isn't fine!”
“Her constitution is much weaker than it should be! She hasn't been eating or sleeping as a child her age would normally and she's been sick for months. Usually, an injury like this would barely have affected her!”
“You should have thought of that earlier! You need to figure out what to do to make her stop-”
“I-” My words fell out, cut off, shaky. It barely sounded like my voice at all.
Had I even spoken?
It didn't sound like me, it didn't even feel like I had spoken at all.
Lionel and the doctor were still arguing, but the maid by my bedside popped up. Her brown eyes were as wide as saucers as she just stared at me, mouth agape.
“Princess did you just… Was that..?” her voice was just above a whisper, not loud enough to bring the men behind me out of their conversation.
“I’m - I’m. I’m F-Fi-Fi-” Why couldn't I say it?
“OH MY GODS!” She shrieked, jumping up from the floor, her hands flying to her mouth. They really shouldn't be near her face at all, doesn't she know what she was cleaning up?
“What? Is something wrong?”
“What did she expel?!”
Lionel and the doctor were immediately up, the latter rushing around the bed to see what could have caused the maid such a reaction.
“She spoke! The princess spoke!” She was squealing again, jumping a bit now.
Part 19
How would he have reacted? If our roles were reversed?
If he was the one who had stayed in our shared bedroom, if he had insisted on finishing the book he was so close to being done with. If he was the one our mother had come running for if he was the one who had survived his attack. If he was the one who ran from our bedroom, into the throne room, to see our family lying dead and dying in their blood.
Would he have done what I did? Would he have been able to live?
I mean truly live.
I may have been alive but I was nothing but a living dead at this point, I had been nothing but a body without a soul. My grief had destroyed me, consumed me, and left me shattered.
And I had left it.
Would he have?
Would he have even made it out of that throne room alive? If he hadn't killed our grandfather would I have? Or would he have had me killed, his second in command had been cut down before he was. If I had entered and they were still alive would I be dead?
Would Lionel have been able to save me?
Would my brother need saving?
Or would he have run into that room, desperate to see what had caused our mother such pain? Would he have to see the horror that I saw? Would he have picked up our father's sword and done as he did, would he have lived if Sir Lionel had been right behind him?
Would our mother have been able to try to kill him? Or would he step aside and stop him? Would our beloved mother have been able to kill himself?
If my brother had been the one to stay behind would he have been able to live? Would his anger drive him? Would he have some of our family left with him?
I know what would have happened if I had been in the throne room that day instead. I would have died. I would have been cut down first.
Lionel had tried his best to keep what happened that day from me, but my uncle had told him and I had overheard him telling someone else what he had been told.
My uncle Kuro, his dark dark eyes, had been barely alive when I burst into the throne room. He had watched silently, trying to drag himself over to me as I threw myself over my father. His best friend, the man who had saved his life, the one who had given him a chance to begin again, lay dead in a puddle of his blood and his last living child was thrown over him sobbing and pulling at him.
Kuro had been an Asian for a rival kingdom. Raised by his family, his father -who was my grandfather’s second in command- had ensured he was well trained. He was barely older than I am now when he was sent out on his first mission, to kill someone he didn't know, didn't want to know.
He was nearly sixteen when he came across my father, his next target. My eldest uncle, Andranik, and the triplet’s father, Uncle Ashur Jad barely managed to take him down. The two of them had been heavily cut and bleeding out when my father came across them. He offered Kuro a deal, freedom to start anew to be his person, or imprisonment.
Kuro had taken the deal.
And his father went with him. It wasn't until my brother and I were eight that Kali’s younger half-brother, through his mother, had come across him again. He was older than my brother and I by four years, barely twelve when he was sent to kill his half-brother and the “traitors” father.
Kiichi was a strong boy, with black eyes like his older brother and skilled with every weapon he had ever laid his hands on. He and Uncle Kuro had been prodigies in the world of killing and shadows. A world they had both left behind.
If anyone asked, Kiichi was Uncle Kuro’s son by a mistress who had passed away, leaving the mysterious boy with his father.
He had been very happy to stay with us, Kiichi. He and Andranik got along very well, the two eldest of the cousins. Best suited to guide and protect us, constantly hovering around us and playing little tricks on us.
Kiichi was the more troublesome of the two of them, he loved to play pranks on the younger of us. Andranik was constantly scolding him for it, but it was always good fun and no one ever got hurt from them.
Kiichi had been lying at the base of the stairs that led up to the throne, My grandfather’s second-in-command underneath him. Kiichi’s pink hands wrapped around the knife that was buried in his chest, the elder's hand on the ground, a knife covered in the blood that spilled from Kiichi’s throat not far from him.
Two assassins killing each other, one for king and country, the other for the family that had taken him in.
A child murdered by a man meant to protect him and raise him, his elder brother lying not far behind him, having slaughtered my grandfather’s guards before he was taken down.
Lionel had tried his best to keep what happened that day from me, but my uncle had told him and I had overheard him telling someone else what he had been told.
My uncle Kuro, his dark dark eyes, had been barely alive when I burst into the throne room. Sir Lionel had knelt by his side, trying to administer some first aid until the field doctors came in. He had been pushed away as my uncle tried to get to his feet, to his knees, to me.
He could not, so he did what little else he could. He told Lionel all that had happened in that throne room that dreadful day. How every one of my uncles and cousins had died. How my father had been killed, how my brother had been beheaded, how my mother barely managed to escape to go to me.
Lionel had told this to another knight, word for word, before his fellow man of the fellowship of the Reobeth king had gone to return to the court with all the news.
My body shivered again. Was it from the cold? Or was my body trying to save me from falling into the pits of my mind again? After finally doing something, moving my limbs after months of near nothing, after finally feeling sensation again, was it unwilling to let me fall back into the abyss of my memory?
I looked at the window again. If I kept sitting here doing nothing then it would be day and the stars wouldn't be here anymore. They would have gone down with the moon and I wouldn't be able to see them again, not until another night.
And who knew if I would be able to bring myself to do this again?
I brought my hands back down onto the floor after wiping away the salty trails of my tears with the edges of my nightgown sleeves. I clawed at the thick carpet that covered the cold stone and dragged myself forward.
As I pulled with my hands, arms trembling from the effort and my knuckles turning white from the tightness of my grip, my feet scrambled against the floor, trying to push along with my pulls.
Slowly along the carpet, I dragged myself. I didn't feel much, I just felt tired. My bones felt like they were shaking and all I wished to do was to lie down and sleep on the rug. But I was close, so close to the curtains.
I was at the rigs edge now, a smooth expanse of stone that seemed far wider than it truly lay between me and the curtains that kissed the floor. My legs seemed to be working a bit more now, I was able to pull myself back into a kneel after my feet pushed a bit more on the rug. I could almost reach the curtains if I just stretched out on the floor if I reached across the stone.
So I did. I pushed against the stone of the floor with my hands, slithering forward like one of the snakes that Hannan and Amal would find and let slip around their fingers in the garden.
My feet stuttered about trying to find some purchase on the carpet, trying to push me that one bit more forward. My arms stretched out in front of me when I felt that my hands wouldn't help move me forward anymore, my fingers going taught as they reached.
I tried, holding my breath as I nudged myself that little bit closer until I felt a brush of damask nudge my fingertips.
Part 18
It took me a while to gather myself, wipe my tears away with the too-big sleeve of my nightgown, and shift myself off of my legs. They still hurt, but not as much as they had when I first landed on them.
I stared at them for a longer while. They felt foreign to me. My own body felt like it was working against me when I was finally ready to start doing things with it again. Could they even be my legs?
They didn't feel like mine, did not act like mine. My legs had never hurt this much before. They even looked different, paler than mine had ever been. Slimmer and sickly almost.
They couldn't be my legs. But they couldn't be anyone else either. I stared at my feet, wrapped in the little white knit stocking that Sir Lionel insisted I wear to bed as it was so cold.
I followed them up my ankles, the shins, the knees as they began to disappear under the skirt.
They were attached to me, so they must have been mine.
There were more tears now. More out of frustration than pain.
They were my legs, so why weren't they behaving like that? My legs would have never been like this.
They would have kept me upright and let me walk over to the window to look at the stars.
I wanted to look at the stars.
I glanced at the window again. Almost hoping that the curtains had fallen off with my fall, but the window and its curtains were nowhere near me and they remained steadfast in their blocking of my view.
I leaned back against the bed. I was so tired. My limbs felt like the long metal clubs my bigger uncles fought with. The metal was thicker than my head and longer than I was tall.
I had overheard some of my uncles commenting on how the bigger of the clubs weighed as much as a horse did.
My arms and legs certainly felt that heavy.
I just wanted to look at the stars.
I stared at the curtains blocking me from my view, my mind going blank as tears kept running down my cheeks.
It must have been an hour, or perhaps just a few moments before I came to as my whole body trembled.
If I could just get over to the window maybe I could move the curtains. They were long, trailing onto the floor. Surely I could pull them done if I just got over there. The rod the blue-gray fabric was hanging from was supported by only two small hooks screwed into the stone of the walls. If I reached the curtains and tugged on them hard enough the whole thing would come down, and I would be able to see the stars.
I turned back towards the bed behind me. Trying to bring myself up onto my knees so I could use the tall thing to pull myself up to stand.
But I couldn't.
I could barely move myself into a sitting kneeling position. My legs started to shake and tremble uncontrollably when I attempted to bring myself up on them. Even with my death grip on the bed sheets I was unable to pull myself up from my sitting position on the floor.
More tears were running down my face I realized. Was I hurt again? I couldn't feel anything, everything was just sort of numb again.
I was angry, maybe that was why I was crying. Mother always said I was an angry crier.
My brother would get loud, slamming things, screaming and shouting, and making as much noise as he could. He was the loud terror out of the two of us when he got angry.
I would sit and cry silently. My little mouth would tremble and my golden eyes would brim with tears until they spilled over my cheeks. My uncles would comment on how cute I was when I was upset, but my father was always worried about what must have been going through my head.
He always said that twins were two pieces of the same person, a single baby split into two when it was yet to be born. So whatever one twin did the other was often thinking, and what one twin thought the other often did. This is why, he would tell my brother and me, that twins may seem like opposites of each other when they were very much the same.
My brother and I shared a soul, a heart, a mind. So if he was yelling and screaming and slamming the things around him in his anger, what must have been going through my head was I would sit there silently and cry?
Was my mind as loud as he was?
I wouldn't have been able to answer that then, but I think that now I could.
My mind wasn't loud, it wasn't even the slightest bit noisy.
He must have taken all the noise with him when we two were split. He took the volume, the character, the shine that made everyone around him light up. I was the silent one, hiding behind my mother's leg, clinging to my uncle's skirts and capes. He was out and about, blazing his way through the world while I watched his fire burn as bright as the sun.
We may have both had the golden eyes of our ancestors, the bright shining stars that they were, but he was the one that shined.
That only grew clearer now. While I sat unmoving in my room, too scared to move, too stricken to do anything when our mother came in crying out to me in grief and pain, he was witnessing our whole family die at the hands of our grandfather. He took up our father’s sword and ran the vile man through.
We were both thirteen, but he was every ounce of a royal that I could never have been.
Part 17
I didn't sleep that night. There were too many memories swimming through my head to do so.
I couldn't stop thinking about the small box hidden under my bed, the scraps and little keepsakes I had stolen away from my family. I wanted it, wanted to pull it out and look at all the little things as the moon streamed in through my window, clear and crisp in the cold night. I wanted to see them again.
My mind was running, unable to rest as I tried desperately to claw at the muddy visions of my uncles and cousins before they ran through my fingers like water, puddling beneath in a bloody red mess as the scene I recall turned back into that of the throne room.
I stared at the windows, the heavy damask curtains darkening the room and blocking any view of the night sky.
I wanted so badly to see them again. I wanted to be able to remember them without that horrific scene flashing to the forefront of my mind.
Something compelled me to sit myself up, it took so much effort. I had barely been moving on my own lately, Lionel was carrying me around and helping me sit and stacking mountains of pillows behind me to support my frail stature.
I had started to move around some, sitting up slowly and leaning heavily on cushions, but I had yet to be completely free with my movement since it all happened.
I had heard the maids whispering to each other that if I continued like this I would never be able to walk, run, or ride again.
I was so tired these past few months that I hadn't had the energy to even move on my own, not that I wanted to anyway. I had been locked away in my mind the whole time, my grief keeping me immobile and as unfeeling as possible.
Everything I had known had shattered around me into thousands of blood-stained pieces, and I had fallen apart right alongside it.
Lionel knew it, the chef knew it, the maids knew it, the stewards knew it, the king of Reobeth knew it, and the prince of Reobeth knew it too. They all had known, and I think I was just starting to understand just how much I had shattered with all that I had known.
I wanted to look out the window. I wanted to see the stars.
Father had loved the stars.
He had spent hours with my brother and me outside on clear nights, pointing out the different groups and naming them for us. Telling us the stories of how they were made, which gods hung them together, and what they were doing during the day.
He would sneak us out of our bedrooms, keeping us up far past our bedtimes and giggling behind our mother's back when his silver curls would bounce as we were all scolded for going out when it was far too dark.
My brother and I would make up stories for our constellations, pick out groups of stars without a name, without stories, and create our own for them.
I wanted to see them, the stars my father had spent the darkest evenings whispering to us about. The little cluster of stars just above the northernmost one that my brother and I had fought over for weeks. We both wanted to name it, but it was only one cluster.
It took too much effort for me to swing my legs over the edge of the bed, perhaps had I been in a clearer state of mind I would have seen this as the warning it was.
I went to plant my feet down on the plush carpet that served as a barrier between my bare feet and the freezing stone of the floors and scooched off the edge of the bed.
The mattress was a lot higher than I had thought it would be, but perhaps I never truly thought of it. The beds in my and my cousins’ and brother's rooms were custom-made to our height and want. The ones in the guest rooms were generic ones meant for adults and were quite a bit higher than my own.
I had certainly thought, then, that the carpet was far softer than it felt when I landed heavily on my knees. A solid thump sounded from my crumpling fall. I had expected my body to work as it always did. To slip off the bed and land on sure feet and stand on my legs and then just walk over to the window to open the curtains and look out.
Instead, my knees had given out beneath me, and my feet never surely planted on the floor. I had landed instead in a small heap at the bedside.
It didn't hurt. It should have hurt.
But I suppose that after months of doing nothing, my body had grown used to the overwhelming numbness. And now any sensation felt magnified beyond my understanding.
What should have been a small bump, something that I should have been able to huff at and brush off, felt like a bolt of lightning going up both my legs.
They were stiff and tight and the pain of when I moved them and now landing on top of them seemed to flood into my senses out of nowhere.
I sat there for what felt like hours, in the room darkened to a nearly pitch black by the heavy curtains blocking my view of the stars.
It probably wasn't even a few moments, but it felt like days as I just sat there, crying blankly at the first feeling of sensation I could remember in my limbs.