Chapter 14
CHAPTER
14
(Six Days Remain)
Painful. It was the only way to describe the entire trip home. My emotions ranged from numbness and rage to despair. It was a terrible mistake, to let myself feel like this. I didn’t have anything else to compare to, and I was glad for it. My chest felt incredibly tight, like I was struggling for breath. I was so Gods-damned angry at what was happening to me. Why did I have to find Trace, why now? The silly list I’d made had delivered me into chaos of my own making. I had spent too much time by his side. Given too much of my heart. I would pay for this trespass for far too long.
When I arrived home, I absentmindedly handed Rain over to the stable boy then made my way through the manor in a fog, hoping to not see anyone. Back in my room, I was reluctant to unpack. I didn’t want to know what he’d given me, and yet I ached to feel any sort of connection to him. When I opened the satchel, I saw a folded piece of parchment. I knew what it was before I even unfolded it. A sketch of me, sleeping soundly with the stars above and my tattoo peeking out from behind a few strands of my hair. Below the drawing of me were a few words of handwritten text.
Like seeing something that’s already gone.
The uncontrollable sob that wrenched forth from my heart was loud and desperate. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and before I knew it, Versa had rushed into the room. I quickly folded the piece of paper and shoved it back into the bag before she could take notice.
Without hesitation, she pulled me into her chest and let me hang limply in her arms and just cry for what was not meant to be. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice laced heavily with concern.
I looked up at her, more tears welling in my eyes, and choked out, “I should not have gone back to him.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Versa tried to console me. “Maybe you’ll see him again when you return. You’re not going to be gone forever!”
She had no idea how devastating those words were. I remained silent and continued to cry it out in her arms. When she finally thought she’d calmed me, she urged me to wash my face and try to join us at dinner, reminding me how much our parents had missed me these past couple weeks.
Dinner wasn’t any easier. I could see the worn look on both my mother’s and father’s face. An expression that said they had spent the last two weeks imagining what it would be like without me. Neither looked like they’d slept in days, and I felt selfish for doing that to them. An air of awkward silence hung heavy in the room, only punctuated by the metallic scraping of cutlery on my mother’s favorite dishes.
“We hope you enjoyed your time visiting friends,” Mother finally said, following with a gulp of wine.
It was no coincidence that she had a decanter entirely her own, indicating this was one of those evenings she was going to drown her sorrows. Versa gave me an encouraging nod, implying that I should go along with it.
“I did, very much so,” I replied, eying Father to discern if he was buying anything I was saying. “They’re mostly excited for me, when they weren’t complaining about how much fun I was going to miss by not being at the wedding.” My sister smiled at me softly, as if to say It’s ok .
“Yes, well, your sister and I made lots of progress while you were away, I’m sure she’ll bring you up to speed on it before we have to leave.”
I smiled at my mother, feigning interest in the update.
I could hear the hint of a crack in my father’s voice. “Speaking of, we will be leaving in a day so your mother and I can properly escort you. It will take us awhile to reach our destination; we’ll need to make haste.”
“I thought we had more time?” Versa questioned. “I shall come with you.”
“No!” my mother interjected without hesitation. “You must stay and oversee the household while we’re away. I’ve made wedding appointments for you to tend to.”
Versa gazed at me dejectedly.
The remainder of dinner was unpleasant; the uncomfortable silence settling back in until my mother inquired, “Cress, honey…what would you like for your farewell dinner? Chef D’eliar is eager to prepare you any of your favorites.”
I turned to glance over my shoulder, eyeing a few of the wait staff, knowing my departure wasn’t lost on them either. Just more people to miss me, more for me to miss.
“Tell him I appreciate it and to surprise me.”
He’d never cooked a bad meal in this household, so I trusted him. And I wasn’t about to treat this like my last meal.
“If you don’t mind, I must excuse myself. I need to begin packing.”
I pushed away from the table and noted each staff member performing a small bow as I passed. Two weeks away and I’d forgotten all about the pomp and circumstance of being a member of the court.
That evening, I attempted to get as much packing done as possible. This way, I could spend the next day with Versa and my parents. Plus, keeping myself busy made it easier to ignore how I was feeling. With no actual explanation of what I was headed into, I found it difficult to pack accordingly. Blouses, trousers, multiple sets of fighting and training leathers, undergarments—no frills—a few pairs of comfortable shoes, a modest dress—Gods knows for what—some basic toiletries—brush, hair ties, soap, hand mirror—perfume—perhaps for a formal event in one of the palaces—and a handful of other items that wouldn’t take up too much space.
I figured what good were fighting leathers without weapons? I took a leather pouch and placed in it a couple of small blades and daggers that had been made specifically for me. I hadn’t planned to take any jewelry, but in combing through my drawers, there was one piece that caught my eye. A tiny silver bracelet.
It was simple in every way. The braided chain featured no stones, only a small charm of a rose, Versa’s favorite flower. This one little piece carried so much meaning. She and I both had matching ones adorned with the other’s favorite flower. These were bracelets representing our sisterhood that we had given to each other on our tenth namesake. I had no idea if I’d be permitted to wear it, but I packed it anyway in an attempt to take a piece of Versa with me. Hopefully, I’d get by with my parents thinking I’d taken more than that when they noticed the other pieces that had gone mysteriously missing.
I looked at my collection of books, and it was crushing to accept that I likely couldn’t bring more than one or two. I wanted to pretend that wherever I was going, I’d still be permitted such frivolities as time to read.
I made sure to pack my family medallion as my father had instructed, the weight of it heavier in my hand than I ever recalled it feeling before.
I tossed and turned most of the night, unable to get any rest until I’d finally become so exhausted that slumber took me without warning.
My final day at home began with a routine like any other normal morning. A long soak in the tub, styled my hair, dressed in something lovely—since this would probably be the last chance—and headed to breakfast.
Breakfast was my favorite meal of the day; which usually meant brunch, given I wasn’t an early riser. Chef knew me too well. I indulged in every type of pastry. There was enough food on display for an entire party.
I spent the morning listening as Versa and my mother provided me updates on all the wedding decisions they had finalized while I was away. I smiled and nodded, giving no hint of disinterest; just one last day to soak in every boring detail of a simple life.
Lunchtime was another exercise in excess. Chef had prepared delightful tea sandwiches. They were scrumptious, but not as much as the petite cakes which I gorged myself on in a truly unladylike fashion. Fruit fillings and frostings, peach, apricot, pear—all fresh from our very own orchards.
That afternoon, I relaxed in the library reading a book; nearby, my father was captivated by the trade reports. Time passed quickly, and each chime of the clock echoed noticeably louder.
Before joining my mother and Versa for dinner, my father pulled me aside by my elbow.
“Did you pack your medallion as I requested?”
Our gazes remained close and locked; there was no discussion needed. The implication of the request was enough. I nodded and proceeded to dinner, pulling away from his grasp.
When I arrived in the dining hall, I was shocked to find a majority of the kitchen staff lining the walls dressed in their finest attire. Chef D’eliar stood at the head of the table and gave me a welcoming smile. As soon as we took our seats, a few of the staff stepped forward and placed soft white linen napkins across our laps. The formality of this all was absurd. I glanced at my mother and her wide-eyed stare said Do not resist .
Chef cleared his throat and pronounced loudly across the room, “My lady Cressida, it has been our honor to serve you all this time, from your youth and all through your days. You’ve blossomed before our eyes. We are sending you our best wishes as you head out on what will be an amazing journey, and we hope you return safely.”
D’eliar gestured and the staff stepped forward between each of us, and in unison, they placed covered meals in front of us and removed the silver lids to unveil our dinners. The delectable smell wafted into my face; tenderloin, fingerling garlic potatoes, and butter rolls. If I hadn’t been practicing sufficient self-control the entire day, the scent alone and overwhelming gratitude would have had me in tears.
“Thank you, Chef. All of you, you’ve outdone yourselves. Truly.”
Before lifting my fork and knife, I looked all around the room at the smiling faces glancing back at me. The faces of the kind and helpful people who I had come to know as an extension of my family. This was their goodbye. They exited the room, heading back toward the kitchen.
Our bellies were already full from dinner; we were not prepared for the chocolate fondue dessert placed before us. I would not offend Chef after all he’d done for me, and I found myself making room for two helpings.
We all sat there silently, each of us trying to ignore the empty table before us.
“We’ll be leaving at first light; we should all get some rest. Versa, say your goodbyes this evening. We won’t want to wake you.”
And just like that, the crescendo of the moment we had all been avoiding crashed down. I followed my sister upstairs to her room, making an excuse that I still had a bit more packing to do, so I wouldn’t be able to stay very long.
We sat closely on her bed, but I still felt distant, trying to reconcile the fact that we’d never been apart this long before. I was overcome with the urge to unravel secrets and lies that had become tangled in my mind. I wanted to warn her to never have children, so as to ensure no one else from our bloodline would ever succumb to the same fate as me. I wanted to tell her the truth of what was happening and set fire to these past weeks, to the charade we’d been made to keep up with.
But looking at her, the innocence and naivety, it seemed wrong to hurt her unnecessarily. I started to believe that the lies were the best way. It was better for her to believe I was away, happy, doing what I longed to do, and then something tragic happened. That would be easier to overcome. I wondered if she did have children someday, would she learn of the debt all families owed the king? Would she surmise that is what had happened to me?
If she knew the truth, she’d never let me leave—or worse, she’d attempt to join me, and I couldn’t allow that to happen. If she knew the truth, she’d never forgive our parents. She’d likely even fear having her own children one day. The dream of being a mother, was I willing to ruin that for her? Never.
I leaned over and embraced her, holding her longer than usual, as I wasn’t normally one to hug. I squeezed her tightly, taking in her floral fragrance, and savored the feeling of my other half for the last time.
When we pulled away, she looked at me and said, “Promise you’ll write to me, when you get a chance?”
I nodded, unable to lie again. She moved a strand of hair behind my ear, giving her a glimpse of our matching tattoo. Holding my hands in hers, she said, “May the light of the moons guide you back to me.”
She pulled me into another tight embrace, and I rested my head there on her shoulder for as long as she let me, doing my best to fight the sting of my tears.
Before returning to my room, I snuck down to the stable to say goodbye to Rain. I found him relaxed in his stall and began to brush long lines across his side, in between planting kisses along his snout and cheek. The stable hand appeared from the darkness, patting Rain gently.
“Fear not, my lady. I will take good care of him until you return.”
I nodded, unwilling to let him see me cry, and made my way back to my room. Upon arriving, I pulled out the list. It seemed like forever since I had last looked upon it. I crossed off two more items, trying to ignore the memories flooding through me of Trace and I swimming night after night in the spring.
Only one item remained. I argued with myself that I had already accomplished it. Doesn’t getting a tattoo count as altering my appearance? I thought back to the night I’d made the list, unsure of what I had even imagined for that item, when an idea came to mind.
Carrying my bedside lantern, I walked over to my writing desk and sat before my mirror. I opened the drawer and pulled out a small sewing kit. I grabbed the black feather from Trace’s wing that he had given me, that I’d hidden away. From my jewelry drawer, I took out a small plain earring and untangled the wire from it, re-wrapping the loose end around the shaft and fastening the feather in place to the earring.
I pushed back a strand of hair, allowing the lantern light to reveal a reflection in the mirror of the one small earring already there. Then I took out a sharp silver needle from the kit and eyed it intently, twisting it between my thumb and forefinger. Hovering the needle above my ear lobe next to the first earring, I didn’t question if it would hurt.
I pushed the needle through. Rejoicing in the pain, glad to feel anything at all since numbness had been battling to consume me since leaving Versa’s side. I wiped away a tiny dribble of blood and pushed the feather earring through the new hole.
I tilted my head, admiring the look of the shiny feather peeking out in between locks of my dark brown hair. Wherever I went, his memory would be with me. I crossed the last item off the list. I turned it over one more time to reread Aster’s words. I had told myself I’d remember them but, honestly, didn’t know if I would. What did it matter anymore? I was about to find out what was in store for me, regardless. The need to unravel the riddled words felt like a hollow and empty endeavor. I lifted the parchment over the flame of a candle and let it all burn to ash.
Lose my maidenhead
Seduce a stranger
Gamble till I win
Get drunk
Alter my appearance
Help someone in need
Get a tattoo
Do something that scares me
Swim naked in the moonslight
Say my goodbyes
I hadn’t managed to get much sleep before the sun rose. I located the two notes and the sketch Trace had drawn. I tore off the bottom part of the drawing—his message to me—and added it to the pile of letters. I then folded and shoved them into my pack, unwilling to part ways with these pieces of him. I snuck quietly into Versa’s room and left the sketch of me on her bedside table for her to find when she awoke.
One might consider it bizarre to have a sketch of your sister sleeping, but I had reasoned that someday when I tragically didn’t return, she would be glad to have it. I took one more glance at her soft, sleeping face, my face, and turned away from her for the final time, my heart aching.
Downstairs, I stood alone in the dim, quiet foyer. Not even the staff were awake this early. The eerie silence was a somber backdrop to my departure. The pristine shine of the marble floors, the smell of floral arrangements wafting through the halls, the arched ceilings featuring detailed frescos, and the winding staircases leading towards the east and west wings. I closed my eyes to picture the expansiveness of my home, to take it all in one last time.
The elegance of the set table in the dining room. The family portrait hung proudly over the stone fireplace in the library, its ornate frame reflecting the pale blue shafts of light that streamed in through the windows high above.
My father’s office desk, laden with endless scrolls of maps and paperwork. My mother’s closet of fineries; fabrics of every color, shade, and texture. The two swings near the gazebo in the garden, where my sister and I competed to see who could go the highest. The sound of Rain’s hooves beating in an even tempo across the expansive grounds. This had been my home, and I wanted to preserve every detail in my mind.
Finally, with no more tears to shed, I opened the front door and crossed the gravel path to where my mother and father stood, a large carriage looming beside them. They seemed lost, out of place. A wave of sadness began to wash over me, blurring my vision.
But then I saw it. I wiped my eyes to be sure. This carriage was not our family’s coach. Its dark chestnut frame was not lacquered to a pristine shine, but dusty and ordinary. There was certainly no family crest to be seen on the door. I shifted my gaze to the driver and then to the guards on horses that flanked the carriage. Their clothes were pedestrian, but they were visibly armed.
“Come now. Time and tide wait for no one.” My father extended a hand to help me into my seat.
I tried to smile at this tired old saying of his, but I was too focused on the seriousness of this journey.
As the carriage rattled along the road leaving the grounds of our home, I watched the manor blanketed in sunrise, once and for all, thinking of a future that might have been.