Chapter 26
A za wakes feeling numb. Her eyes are so swollen she can barely see, and her chest feels hollow. Her bones ache as she pushes herself off the floor. Her dress clings to her, damp with tears.
No longer wanting to be in the bedroom, she made her way to the bathroom, grabbed a warm cloth to cover her eyes, and then proceeded to the sitting room. She chose the chair farthest from the window and curled herself up in it, holding the cloth on her swollen eyes.
Aza doesn’t know how long she sits there; it could have been hours or mere minutes. Everything feels irrelevant. She didn’t care about anything at that moment. She didn’t even make the effort to remove the cloth from her eyes to see who was entering her room.
“Princess, are you alright?” Bennu’s voice filled her senses.
Not wanting to be rude to him, she removed the cloth to look at him. Unbeknownst to her, though, Jahar stood in the doorway, and the utter shock and sadness that crossed his face when he saw the devastation of hers seemed to nearly break him.
“I’m fine. Just a nightmare.” She wasn’t necessarily lying about the nightmare; it just hadn’t been in her sleep, it had been when Jahar told her they could never be together.
“W-well, my lady. We are ready to travel if you are. The twins wanted to wish you a farewell and safe travels, but they are indisposed from their activities last night.”
“That is fine. I am ready to go.”
Aza stands, already moving towards the door, past Jahar, without looking at him when he gently whispers her name. Aza can hear Bennu ask Jahar what happened, but Jahar does not answer. She walks faster.
When she reaches the castle's exit, her carriage is waiting for her. She climbs in and promptly shuts the door. She slouches in her seat, laying the wet cloth over her eyes once again. Her eyes threaten to well with tears, but she refuses to let them.
The carriage begins to move, and Aza sits back up, removing the cloth from her eyes to readjust.
A man sits across from her, his face covered in blood and purple, as if he had been beaten and the air had been taken out of his lungs.
Any other time, he would terrify her, but right now, she didn’t feel anything. Unfazed, Aza lays her head back again, covering her eyes with the cloth once more.
“Make yourself useful, and wake me up when we get there.” Aza remarks, void of any feeling or humor.
Her greatest fear came true last night, so no vision, voice, or nightmare could touch her right now.
Instead, she lets herself get pulled back into the abyss of sleep, hoping to bypass the long journey and avoid Jahar, at least for the time being.
She couldn’t handle seeing his face right now and remembering everything he had said to her last night after giving her so much pleasure with so little action. She just couldn’t.
Her body must have given up, for she had slept the whole journey, refusing food, refusing to relieve herself, or anything else they tried to offer her.
But now Killian was at the carriage entrance, telling her they had arrived back home safely.
She drags herself out of the carriage and begins walking directly to her room.
“Princess, would you like to visit the King? I can call for him.” Killian offers.
“No. I’m going to my room. I’m not feeling well.”
“Alright, Princess. I will see to it that someone at least informs him you are home.”
“Thank you,” Aza begins walking and then pauses, “Killian? Will you join Colby as my guard for the rest of the evening? I believe Jahar needs a break.”
“Of course, Princess. I will grab him now and inform the guards of the change. But, if anyone asks, we didn't mess with the set schedule.”
“Alright, Sir Killian,” Aza agrees, waiting patiently for both men before continuing to her room.
Home should feel comforting to her, but all she could think about was the times she and Jahar had spent together, how they would sneak away to speak privately in her room, the times he would comfort her after a nightmare, or the time he stayed with her all night just to make sure she was okay.
A sob catches in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.
She can’t handle this. She couldn’t be trapped in her head, in these memories.
She couldn’t be locked in this room. She couldn’t associate her room with bad memories, more than it already was; she’d never be able to make it through the days and nights.
Before she knows where she’s going, she burst out of her bedroom door, her feet barely touching the floor as she ran through the hall.
She heard a worried shout behind her, but she didn’t stop or turn around.
Tears sprang out of her eyes and flew off her cheeks.
She runs until she gets to a wooden door with little flower engravings.
She held her breath, staring at the door.
Dents mar the wood. She hadn’t come back to this area, not ever.
No one did. This area was silently forbidden.
Before she could stop herself, her hand reached out to grab the gold-colored handle, but when she tried to turn it, it was locked. Aza curses under her breath. She pushed on the door, even though she knew it wouldn’t change the fact that it was locked. She slams into it, then kicks it.
“You can’t lock me out!” She screamed at the door.
Her fists banged on the door. Rage tears through her.
Her tears were hot, and her breaths raged.
She shoved her hair out of her face, and her feet were carrying her down the hallway.
She didn’t stop until she found a wooden stand with a flower vase on top, but there were no flowers.
She shoved it off, glass shattering across the floor.
She picked up the stand and carried it back to the door.
She lifts it, struggling, cursing herself for being so weak, but she brings it down hard and fast. It collides with the door handle.
It was now bent at an odd angle, and she hit it again.
And again. And again. She doesn’t stop until the handle snaps off and falls to the floor, the door swinging slightly open.
Aza freezes, looking at the same floor where she found her mother, her pool of blood, the candles, and black roses. She let the stand fall from her grip. Slowly, her steps brought her into the room, and she shut the door behind her.
It had been cleaned up. There was no blood on the floor, no petals, no body.
The chair in the corner sat untouched, with a small blanket draped over it.
The desk against the wall had dust and cobwebs growing on it.
The air smelled stale. Aza wondered if this room hadn’t been stepped in again after her mom’s suicide, and after the apparent cleanup.
It was like it never happened, like she was never in here, like this wasn’t the room she liked to sneak off to, like this wasn’t the room she ended her life in.
Aza drops to her knees. Throwing her face into her hands, the tears gushed out, and she screamed.
“Why?! Why did you have to leave me? What am I supposed to do now? Mama, I’m losing him, too! I can’t lose you both! Mama!” Her throat burns raw from her shrieks.
Sobs shook Aza’s whole body. Her breaths were quick and shallow, making her dizzy and lightheaded. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She pulled at her hair and screamed more. Black spots creeped into her vision, and tears filled the bottom.
She folds over herself, her hands planted on the rough hardwood, forehead touching the cold floor.
Bringing her knees closer to her, Aza took a curled position on her side on the floor.
When she looked out through her tears, she saw silhouettes of people.
She figured her guards had finally caught up to her until she blinked more of her tears away and realized she didn’t recognize these people.
There was a tall man, scruffy and bleeding from his head. The woman next to him had a tear-streaked face, and blood pooled just under her abdomen. When she looked behind her, she saw a young girl with pigtails. She had a gash across her throat, spilling out blood.
“Please, leave me alone,” Aza begged before screaming, “My head is already a disaster! I don’t need all of this! Fuck off!” Aza clamped her eyes shut, repeating over and over, “Leave me alone!”
She doesn’t know how long she stays like this before her voice gives out. She opened her eyes again to see an empty, untouched room. Exhausted and defeated, she lay there until she was consumed with sleep.
Aza finds herself in Mama’s garden, well, what should have been hers.
The setting was correct, but as she looked around, all she could see were black roses growing everywhere.
They grew up through the cracks, like veins crawling across the castle, wrapped around the porcelain bench, and traveled all along the ground.
The sky was an eerie grey, and there was a chill in the air.
Aza heard footsteps, and her head whipped around to the sound. A young, beautiful woman was walking towards her. Her thick, straight hair fluttered behind. Aza couldn’t make out her face until she saw the eyes, her eyes.
“Mama?”
“Hi, my darling.”
“Mama,” Aza cries out, throwing herself into her arms.
Aza wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could. She lay her head on her mother’s chest, but there’s no heartbeat. Her mother had no warmth, but Aza still felt comforted in her arms. Mama brushed her fingers through Aza’s hair.
“This is only a dream,” Aza whispered, tears well up in her eyes.
“Yes, my love. But that doesn’t make me any less here.”
“I miss you so much. Why did you leave me?”
“I am so sorry, my darling. You will learn one day, but I must go, and you must return. I love you with all of my heart. Don’t you ever forget that. You will get through this. You are stronger than you think.”
Mama pulls away from her, and Aza frantically reaches for her—but she’s gone.
Aza jolts upright on the hardwood floor, voices around her, her mind foggy and slow to catch up.
As her vision clears, Killian comes into focus. Colby stands behind him. And they’re both staring at… Jahar.
He crouches in front of her, “You nearly gave your guards a heart attack. I thought you were past that. It’s been years since you’ve run off like this. Usually they find you in the kitchens.”
“We looked everywhere for you, Princess,” Killian says, apologetic. “We didn’t know where else to go. I had to ask Jahar. He said this would be the only place you’d go to be completely alone.
Aza doesn’t know how long she’s been here. How long she slept. Her nightmare, or would it be considered a dream because she saw Mama? Even if she saw Mama it wasn’t real. Just her mind, playing tricks. Because Mama is gone. And she always will be.
“I wanted to be alone, and I wanted to feel like I was with her again. I needed someone, I needed her. But I can’t have any of it.” Aza clenches her teeth, trying to hold back sobs.
She refuses to cry in front of him again. She didn’t want them to continue to stare at her. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to drown in her sorrows. She didn’t want to feel anymore.
“Princess, you’ve been here all night. It’s nearly morning. We searched all night.” Killian says in a soft tone.
“I am sorry, Sir Killian. It was never my intention to scare you or keep you up all night. I will be fine. Just leave me in here.” Aza apologized before lying back on the floor and closing her eyes.
“Princess, you can’t,” Jahar begins before Aza cuts him off abruptly.
“I am over you telling me what I can and cannot do!” She shouts angrily at Jahar, “I am the Princess, and you are my guard, as you love to remind me, and I am telling you to leave me here. Stand outside if you must, but leave,” venom laces her voice, her heartbreak turning spiteful.
Shock flashes across Jahar’s face before he responds, “We will not bother you right now, but will wait outside.” Jahar stands up and leaves quickly.
Aza’s quick glance catches Killian’s stare; he looks uncomfortable and worried, “We will make sure to have the handle replaced.” He bows and walks out the door with Colby. Aza falls back to the floor, arm lying flat, supporting her head.
Aza stays there for a while following the trails of various spiderwebs.
Eventually, she pushes herself up, muscles and bones aching as she makes her way over to the chair.
She picks up the blanket and shakes it outward.
Dust flies off of it, and Aza coughs. She then pats the couch cushions, kicking up more dust. Finally, she sits down, curling her legs up to her chest and placing the blanket over them.
She is staring at the wall when there’s a knock on the door. Moments later, Bennu enters. He’s carrying a plate full of food for breakfast.
“I’m going to sit this here on the desk if you choose to eat it,” he brushes off a spot before setting the plate down.
Aza doesn’t respond; she only slightly nods her head at him in acknowledgement. But Aza doesn’t have any appetite. The thought of doing anything makes her nauseous. So, all she does is stare into the distance, fighting a war in her head.