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My aunt looks exhausted, her red-rimmed eyes half-closed already. Her forehead bunches in concern, but I don’t think she’ll put up much of a fight tonight.
“I would prefer to walk you to your room. It wouldn’t be right to leave you here.” The duty in Roan’s voice makes me recoil, taking a step back as if someone struck me.
“Right or not. I want to be alone,” I say, trying to keep a tremor out of my voice. I’m exhausted in every sense of the word. Everything this day has been, everything it means, I can’t hold up the facade any longer.Don’t cry yet.
“Lena, darling. I know you’re hurting. Let Captain Montgomery walk you the rest of the way, and I’ll let your maid know you’ll ready yourself for bed this evening,” my aunt tells me.
I nod. After a brief hesitation, probably warring with her duty to see me safely on and her desire to melt under the covers of her private chambers, she finally kisses my cheek before turning to walk back the way we came.
Once she’s out of sight, I set my gaze to Roan. “There’s no law that says you must walk me to my room. I understand your obligation and duty as captain to protect the royal family. But I assure you— I’m perfectly safe behind these walls. Unless, for some reason, there’s a lack of confidence in the men you helped train to guard this palace?” I know I’m being rude, hitting him exactly where his pride will strike deep.
“Lena.” He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. A small flicker in my chest threatens to explode. “I don’t protect you just from duty. I don’t walk you to your room simply because I’m Captain of the Guard and it’s my job.”
We lock eyes, the blue of his conflicted with what to say next. My own pride ruins whatever tender moment we might have shared. I jerk my hand from his grip, his lingering silence allowing time for my mind to convince me once more that this will never be the love that the little girl in me always dreamed my marriage would be.
“I order you to go away. To return to the barracks, or wherever you stay every night, and whatever other responsibilities your captainship calls from you.” A rogue tear falls from my face.
“Lena,” he whispers my name again, his hand moving to wipe away the tear dripping down my face.
“Don’t. Just go.” I step out of reach, pointing down the hallway like a parent sending an insolent child to their room. He doesn’t move, however, staring at the ground before bringing his gaze back to me. I refuse to listen to any more words of feigned caring or witness anymore gestures imitating tender devotion. When he doesn’t move, I release a huff before my overdramatic exit, flying down the hallway to make my escape, a resigned captain simply staring at my shrinking form.
He doesn’t come after me. Not that I expected him to. So many things run through my mind. Love for a man who is more like a brother. Regret for my cruel actions just now. Longing for the freedom of a role I never wanted. Anguish that another year has passed without seeing the smile of my most beloved brother. Anger that he was taken too soon. Sadness at all of the above.
Tears fall openly now, dotting the bodice of my green dress. Once I’m sure Roan won’t follow me, I sink to the floor of the long hall, pulling my legs to my chest, and wrapping both arms around to hold them in tight. What a mess I must seem. How has my life gotten to this point?
Years of unshed tears fall to my knees, soaking a small patch of the soft skirt of my green dress. A deeper exhaustion slowly envelops me, and I fear if I don’t get up, I will fall asleep on the cold tile of the hallway. That would be an interesting site to explain to the maids.
I try to stand, my legs and bottom stiff from holding their awkward position. Black dots blur my vision as another wave of dizziness crashes into me like before, only this time I feel as if I’m standing on a ship instead of inside the palace. I wobble to and fro, falling down to my knees. Confusion whirls around me as my limbs forebode complete atrophy in a matter of seconds.
This is not a natural process of simply being overwhelmed, or an ordinary response to a taxing day. This is more. My pulse beats wildly. Was I bitten by something outside, or did I ingest something not quite right?
I search for a cause, a moment in time that could explain what is happening to me. Before the hall, I was on the balcony with my family. We had been outside waiting for Roan, and before that— my mouth drops open. One of the servants brought us a drink. I wasn’t hungry so I took none of the bite-sized morsels of food, but the warm night led me to the drink she had provided. Poison?
“The drink!” I tried to yell, but only garbles escape my throat. “Help!” Another failed attempt to voice my fear.
Was it the servant? Or the cook? Or had someone else entirely made their way in, tainting our food and water before anyone had the sense to notice?
No wonder Aunt Margaret was so easily swayed to let me go on without her. She was suffering the same beginning throes of infected exhaustion. Everyone must be passed out by now. Everyone but Roan, who came after the deceptive drink and turned it away.
My heart steadies when I think of him, standing just a few turns away.
“Roan!” My mouth only forms the words, total silence in its wake. “Roan!” I try again, no sound escaping my lips.
I claw and scrape my way, but I hardly move. My body is sprawled across the floor in a last attempt to drag myself to safety. One by one, my limbs completely overcome to the paralytic effects of whatever I ingested, my dress a heap of wrinkled mess all around me.
I rest my head on the cold tile floor as unconsciousness finally wins the battle. My last thought is of my single lit lantern floating away into the darkness above.
11
The Thief
Theforesthasalwaysbeen my friend. But finding my way out in the middle of the night was quite a feat. A few scrapes and minor cuts line my arms and legs, the only evidence of my struggle. Nothing too deep or wounding, thank Haythen.
The memory of throwing that infuriating man, that guard, right on his back will fuel me for days to come. Relaying the look of shock in his eyes as I mounted Prue and rode off is a priceless reward for having to suffer through his ignorance and mere presence.
The inn is bustling downstairs, serving breakfast to bleary eyed one-nighters and a few regulars, like myself. I reach under the bed to grab my things, beating off dust and cobwebs from a lack-luster cleaning crew before swinging the small bag over my shoulder and tucking in my shirt.
The smell of food hits me hard, a low grumble coming from my stomach. I swipe a piece of bread and small hunk of cheese before I square away my bill with the keeper, grabbing a coin from my pocket to tip the maid who got the dirt and grass stains out of my clothes late last night.
