Part 9

I was too weak for it and the journey was too hard in the colder months to do so. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

Again silence met him. He knew to expect it, knew that it likely wouldn't change anytime soon. I was dying and he did not think I would rise again until I was at my new home, with a new family.

He would have to wait until the season thawed again to take me back. The prince and the King of this other kingdom would have to wait. According to the letters he would read aloud to himself, they were far less potent than he was. Suggestions of going by sea, or the prince coming here himself to care for me were talked about often in the months leading up to the first freeze, but none of it ever occurred.

It was just Sir Lionel. And I was fine with that. I was used to him now, to his quiet mannerisms and his gentle movement. He treated me like I was glass, something I remembered I hated before this had all happened, but now I felt I was on the verge of breaking at all moments.

“Princess. The chef made something light for you this afternoon. You need to eat, to build your strength.”

I wonder if the people who were working here now were the same ones who worked here before. I couldn't remember much about the time between when it had all happened and now, but I can remember the smells of the burning.

Despite the best efforts of Sir Lionel, closing the windows and stuffing scented cloth between the gaps, the smells of burning bodies were still after through the room.

It was probably fallen soldiers, animals, and civilians. Usually, only royalty is burned, to send our souls to the gods, but there were so many dead that it had to be done. I can't remember if they had burned them all yet, or if my parents and cousins, uncles, and brother had been sent off properly.

Perhaps I should have been more conceited about it, but I could hardly bring myself to be concerned about anything.

“Princess?” Lionel had moved me into a sitting position again, tucking pillows and thick blankets and furs around me before putting the tray onto my lap. “He said it's what you and your brother used to eat in the summer.”

So he was the same at least. I remember how my brother and I would distract him while our cousins would slip into the kitchen and swipe the freshly baked tarts as if we didn't have a fresh plate of them still steaming being brought to our playroom.

“You need to eat.” Lionel knelt by my side, his voice was more stern than usual, though his gaze was gentle as a; ways. “I know it's hard, but you must eat. We’ll be leaving as soon as the thaw, and you’ll need your surgeon for the journey.”

When I didn't move to eat he did, straightening himself up on his knees before gently picking up the sandwich on the tray and holding it up to my mouth, “Just a morsel. Please. You’ve barely been eating anything.”

It usually went like this, though normally the maids were the ones coaxing me to take little bites. I hardly made it past the first few before I became ill again.