14. Chapter Fourteen Rhea
Chapter Fourteen: Rhea
“A re you going to move?” I ask, faking some bravado as I lift a brow. I may have been caught ogling him again, but I refuse on principle alone to allow myself to blush a third time.
As if knowing my thoughts, his smile grows, straight white teeth fully on display, before he steps out of the way. “After you, My Lady. Your box awaits.”
His joking tone catches me off guard, momentarily making me pause on the steps before I snap out of it. I grumble a thanks under my breath before moving past him, my new dress making a swishing sound as I walk over to the supplies. Before I can kneel down to start unpacking, the guard clears his throat.
“Your dress is—” He waits as I look over my shoulder at him. “It’s not clasped all the way in the back.”
Heat flares on my cheeks—damn it, that is three times now I’ve blushed in front of this man. My hands, shaky from embarrassment, start fumbling with the last few remaining buttons that I can reach. I angle my body so that I’m facing him, trying to hide whatever skin he’s already seen. I wonder if this guard is going to tell the others about this interaction. While I may not be a recluse hiding under the covers of my bed, I’m almost positive that normal women in the castle aren’t accidentally in the vicinity of men with the back of their dresses undone.
When I start cursing under my breath from trying to loop the same button five times in a row, the guard takes a step towards me, his hand reaching out tentatively before freezing mid-air when my body flinches away on instinct. Engrained memories of a man who puts his hands on me influencing the motion before I even realize what I’m doing.
The guard lowers his arm quickly to his side. “Would you like me to help you with that?” he offers softly.
I quickly decline with a shake of my head, my muscles tensing in anticipation of his exasperation. But he returns that easy smirk to his face, not acting at all bothered by my rejection, as he nods his head and steps back. My fingers finally manage to loop the troublesome button, then the next, as I work as quickly as possible. The guard gives me space—walking around the tower feigning interest in the gray stone walls. Though when he peeks into the library again, that does genuinely catch his attention.
Finally looping the last button, I blow out a breath and kneel next to where the box of supplies is. Packed on top are my normal food items: apples and nuts, dried meats and bread. Underneath are items for my washroom, including some more shampoo, mashed mint leaf paste for my teeth, and soaps.
Memories of my last supply drop off move to the forefront of my mind before I can stop them. I tuck my chin into my chest, keeping my gaze down as the images wash over me. My hair falls on either side of my face like a shield, one I hope will block the guard from seeing it as I wrangle to get myself under control. My eyes squeeze closed, hands holding the edge of the box tightly as I force the memories back into the darkest depths of my mind. It’s shocking how quickly sadness can rise to the surface when I’m not actively pushing it down. There will be no crying today. The wood creaks beneath my grip, and I hear the guard’s boots click, the sound getting closer with each step. I focus on my breathing, on trying to clear out the knot of emotions being shoved down my throat. No crying.
Still, the memory of Alexi squatting down next to me, laughing as I devoured the surprise lemon loaf he brought, breaks free. Biting the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, I try to focus on anything else, but with my eyes closed, all I see is the memory. His smile. His eyes. His laughter. It’s too much. I gasp, trying to hold a sob back while a warm tear traces down my cheek. I open my eyes, desperate to find anything else to focus on to get my mind off of the despair building up inside me.
Squatting across from me on the balls of his feet, the guard looks at me, concern written on his face. “Are you alright?” he questions. My body tightens as I again jerk back from him. He holds his hands out in front of him in a placating manner. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just— What’s wrong?”
Is that sympathy in his voice or maybe pity? What he must think of me… Shaking my head, I quickly wipe away the tear before gathering the food off of the floor. I don’t want his concern, and I don’t want to explain why I’m upset. I just need to be alone, so I can go through the rest of my normal routine and keep my mind occupied.
The guard watches me quietly for a moment before standing and moving a few steps back. My thoughts about him turn inquisitive once more because he isn’t put off by my emotions, unlike the other guards who came to get Alexi’s body. Why is he acting so nice? Is it a ploy of some kind? And for what reason?
When the last of the items are removed from the box and put away, the quiet tension that stretches between us is noticeable enough that I find myself with the need to squirm. I clear my throat as I look at the guard, signaling that I am done with a gesture to the empty crate. He nods and starts moving, his stride long and unfaltering as he retrieves it with one hand. When he reaches the door, he falters, waiting a few seconds before looking back over his shoulder at me.
“Should you ever need anything, My Lady, do not hesitate to ask.”
It’s the empathy in his voice that causes my gaze to linger on his face—searching for what, I’m not sure. Before I can discern anything, he opens the door and leaves, shutting it quietly behind him. A breath releases from me as I shake my hands out and try to regain my composure. Interacting with that guard felt different. I realize that I never asked for his name. Then again, he never volunteered it either. I berate myself for going back and forth about this when, in the end, it’s inconsequential. This man may have taken over the vacancy left in my guard at Alexi’s death, but he could never replace what Alexi was to me.
Realizing my thoughts have started spiraling again, I walk out onto the balcony, the warmth of the sun a welcome distraction. The sky is such a bright blue that it almost hurts to look at it. My eyes squint as I watch birds fly from tree to tree, and I can hear the low humming of bugs in the distance. The lake in front of me gleams with the reflection of the bright spring sun. It’s deceptively calm out here. Peaceful even. Not a hint of the locked up princess and her murderous jailor king to be found on these grounds.
I lean my elbows onto the railing, forcing myself to daydream about the world beyond these walls, beyond this tower. I know that there are outposts and smaller towns that line the edge of the Mortal Kingdom from the maps in the books that I have read. Would they be a sufficient distance away from the king? If I left, could I hide out as long as necessary for him to give up his search for me? Is anywhere safe? Nerves simmer inside me at the thought of interacting with new people as well. I’ve been locked up with barely any mortal contact with anyone else for almost twenty-two years. Will I come off as odd? Will the people know who I am and report me to the king? Or will I be a stranger to them, easily able to hide in plain sight? Even if I could get away, is there any running from the guilt embedded within me? Is there any way to escape the sound of the sword piercing Alexi’s chest? Or the memory of his blood pooling out around me?
I think back to my exchange with the guard. He didn’t mind that I insulted the king. In fact, he appeared to enjoy it, if that annoying quirk of his lips was any indication. I huff out a breath at the thought. Alexi never really talked about what the other men were like or if he even had any friends in the King’s Guard. He always made sure that our hour together was more about teaching me something or distracting me in some way to get my mind off of how desperately lonely I was. We never talked much about him or his personal life. Until that night where, unbeknownst to us, we played our last game of cards together, had our last laugh, and enjoyed our last moment of contented happiness. That thought—that quick, tiny thought—shatters the weak dam in my mind holding my emotions in check. I feel it start to seep in, like water through a crack in the stone. Like a slow fog rolling over the mountains until it bleeds into the valley below, the feelings of hopelessness, of despair, of unrelenting guilt suffocate me. I could have saved him.
My eyes squeeze shut as I grit my teeth together and hold my breath, desperate to stop this assault. I clench my hands into fists, using the pain of my nails digging into my palm to center me, as if I can tangibly force these feelings into a box and lock it, throwing away the key so that they can never escape again. I want to push it out of sight so that I don’t have to relive every minute detail that haunts my waking hours. No crying. Seconds that feel like the slow drip of honey pass as I shove and shove the feelings down until I sense them fade away. Until I am met with silence.
Gasping for breath, I open my eyes, feeling a sort of wildness about me as I try to clear away the blurriness. My chest heaves with my quickened breaths as I fight for control over myself again. Slowly, my hands relax as my fingertips rest against the warmed stone. A few more breaths later and my heart has stopped hammering against my rib cage. Peering past the edge of the lake, I look to where the meadow of wildflowers grows up to the treeline of the forest. There are so many colors and varieties of plant life that my fingers and toes crave to touch, so I focus on that to anchor me.
I stay in the sun a little longer, feeling my skin turn warm and slightly pink, before I’m ready to head back inside. My breaths are even as I climb the stairs to check on Bella. Her large paws wiggle and jerk on the bed from the little fox dreams she is having. Nuzzling into the soft white fur at her neck, I give her a quick kiss before quietly opening the trunk at the foot of my bed, removing the lone pair of trousers I own and an undershirt that was Alexi’s.
When Alexi first wanted to teach me these exercises, I had refused. I didn’t see a need to do it. Alexi had persisted, telling me that just because I was locked in a tower didn’t mean that I had to be lazy too. I remember scowling and whining in protest the entire time. Looking back now, I am grateful. He gave me something to do when my mind would spiral into despair because of the lonely monotony. He gave my body a reason to get out of bed on days when all I wanted was to sleep it all away. And now… Well, now I can at least have something else to focus on.
Once I’m changed and back downstairs, I push the white tea table out of the way to create some space in the middle of the living area. When I’m sure I won’t accidentally hurt myself on a piece of furniture, I sit on the floor and close my eyes. Alexi always started every exercise session with what he called “mind cleansers.” He would guide me through a sort of meditation where I would imagine a golden ray of light pouring from the clouds above and onto the crown of my head. As the imagined light flowed over my body, I would focus on relaxing each muscle that was touched right down to my toes. He said it calmed the mind and prepared the body for movement. Today however, it doesn’t clear my mind or fill me with relaxing thoughts, it merely helps steady my breathing. Methodically, rhythmically, I move through the different exercises Alexi taught me. Sweat beads on my forehead as I squat and lunge. Once I work through the rest of the leg exercises, I move on to upper body ones. I work the series twice over before I hear Bella coming down the stairs.
“You hungry, Bells?” I pant, moving to grab her some food and fresh water. She eats quickly before settling on the couch and watching as I repeat the exercise sequence over yet again. I push myself harder and harder, until I am sick to my stomach. My body is the only thing I allow myself to focus on; the turmoil that lurks in the corners of my mind stays out of sight temporarily while I move.
I want my mind to be like the prison I live in: a void of silence. When my body feels like it might not be able to make it up the stairs and my long hair is a tangled nest from sweat, I collapse on the floor with a huff. I turn and look out the open doors of the balcony, the sky a dazzling display of purple and twilight blue layers as the sun nears the horizon in the west. I can hardly see the outline of the moon rising in opposition, its silvery color barely set aglow by the sun’s setting rays.
I think about how the moon wouldn’t be seen if it were not for the sun, how its very visibility is tied to how brightly something else burns. Maybe I’m more like the moon than I realized. Except the something that set me aglow was actually a someone. Does the fact that they are gone now mean I’m destined to be invisible? To float away in a dark night sky with no one knowing that I’m there? To disappear without a trace, like I never existed to begin with? Then I think, maybe that would not be such a bad thing.