I took pause, to glance down at my feet, wondering at how very conniving they were to have brought me here, but then I saw my hand at the same time, holding Cyric's figurine. So I stuffed it back to my pocket, then thought that the prospect of battles turned one absent-minded, then walked forwards anyways. He must have been very concentrated indeed, for he didn't look at all till I was up beside him, till I could see he watched a horse moving out past the fields, past where the last of the training chimera were being called back to the warehouse. This side of the palace, faced off distant from that, to empty land, and it was there the horse moved, back and forth, and back and forth.
I opened my mouth to speak. Then that was when he turned, finally seeming to have noticed me. I'd been watching him before that. The grey light cast into his eyes, the place it lit the ridge of his nose. His eyelashes—for the first time, in profile, I'd gotten a good view of his eyelashes.
"You came," he said, and with it, a whole sigh to him—and barely subdued elation—that made me feel ill in my stomach, having meant before not to come at all.
For this reason, I responded, "I thought you would be gone already. The Echrians left. They were the last."
"I kept waiting. I knew you would be here."
"Cole, we'll see each other tomorrow, won't we? You make it seem as if we'll never meet again. We're not going to be hurt in the battle, the neither of us."
I know. That's what I heard him saying in my head, that's what I'd expected he would say; in just such a tone, I could envision. But he hadn't, he didn't. He glanced from me, outside the window—slowly. And then more quickly, back at me, before I spoke.
"That's a strange thing, isn't it? That horse. How long have you been watching him? Or is that what you were watching? You were meant to be sleeping, remember? I saw you out with Minstrel."
Even in saying these things, I moved forward, to get as good of a view of the horse as he had. For a moment that hand of his, which had been fiddling, jerked up towards me, as if he would grab hold of me. But maybe my glance deterred him, because as soon as I gave it, meeting his grey eyes, he let it fall. Then I turned back, with my breath a little shorter, and my brow a little lower, to watch the horse. By now my mind was distant from seeing it, and yet, it was such a beautiful sight, taken altogether, that it took my attention back: Past the wall of Karatel, which wasn't far past this palace, then past a long stretch of muted grass. There was a patch of trees, off to one side. In the distance, there were mountains which I imagined to be those of Shaundakul—though they probably weren't. They were tall though, and almost invisible in the sky. Against this backdrop, the horse marched one way, then the other. It was black; it kicked its hooves up as it turned, that's how impassioned it was. Then suddenly, it would stop, and go very still; its head turned our direction, as if it were truly staring back at us.
"It looks upset," I said plainly. I had a sharp sense of how close Cole was, his body just there to one side of me, and a little further back.
"It is upset," he replied. I wouldn't have thought he weren't speaking casually, if I hadn't heard the rise of his breath. "It's afraid for the battle. It's afraid that we'll be hurt."
"Doesn't he think we're good warriors," I countered.
"He knows I am. He knows I'm the best. He's still afraid."
I frowned, uncertain now of what he meant. But I didn't want that, not to. I turned on Cole. "Do you mean that I'm the best warrior? Or that you're afraid? Or both?"
His gaze switched to me. He had to look down, while I'd shifted back a little, to keep us apart. There was a smile to his eyes there for a moment, or just that light of it. Then his hand came back up, this time not for my side, but for my cheek. As it had, yes, as it had before he'd kissed me.
"Would it be alright if I told you something, Ellia?" he said to me. There was something so tender in it; not only in it, but in the touch of his fingers as well, and so vulnerable, that I couldn't bear to push him away—even as the figurine hummed in my pocket. What if he was right? What if I didn't last tomorrow? What if he didn't?
"You can always tell me what you like, Cole. I'm only afraid I'll displease you with my reply."
"No, that's impossible," he said, quick. But it seemed, as if it were only a breath, something automatic to my words, before he spoke on with what he truly meant, his fingers dropping from me. "It's to do with my mother," he stated simply. Now he looked back out the window. I didn't turn to watch the horse again; I watched him instead.
"Is she not well?" I asked.
"No, it's not that," he replied. "She's not, at all. She never has been. At least, not for me, I mean. I never knew her."
"Oh." I felt a lock around my own heart.
"You didn't either?" he said, turning his head back to watch me. He had to look down again.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
His brow dropped for a moment, then he blinked, then there was a shrug to his voice, without his shoulders moving at all on their own. "I didn't. I only thought there was something in your tone, just now."
"Oh," I repeated. Then in my mind, I thought as well, how Lucian knew, and Estrid, and so many. Hadn't I tried to use it in proving to the Cirali Warriors so long ago, that I was the princess of Shaundakul? But no, every citizen in Uldin Keep would have known that, they'd replied. That Ellia Solidor's mother had died in childbirth.
"It's a strange thing, isn't it? Not knowing your mother," Cole said. "But I think it would be even stranger never having known your father."
I thought of that. I thought of my father, Savras Solidor.
How strange that sounded to me, even with as often as I'd heard it at banquets, or even had to mention it myself. To me, though, he was just father. He was more father than he was king; somehow I was more a princess in my mind, than he was king. For being a princess was something I had fought for, and whether he had fought to be a king or not, I'd never seen it in my years. In my years, he had been father, and all those others had accepted that father of mine as king.
"Why would you say that?" I asked, thinking back to Cole, and his mention. That it would be stranger never to have known your father.
"Only since... don't you think it's more likely that we'll all turn out as our fathers were than as our mothers were? Especially men, as I am, but even women as well."
I thought of my father again. I thought of those things that I'd heard of my mother. She wasn't outspoken, she had hair not so pale as mine; she wore dresses, but they were not of an extravagant style. There was not much that I knew.
"I'm not sure of that," I replied. "Only that, if you knew something of my father, though I knew and saw him well, I wouldn't say I turned out much like him. I'm not much like him at all really."
I noticed then, more (since I'd forgotten, lost in the past) Cole's eyes on me. There was something that you expected when a person brought up such in-depth considerations: that between the words, both one and the other of those present would be lost in their own thoughts, in the past, or in suppositions. I'd assumed Cole was as I was, especially as he spoke at first of his own mother. But he wasn't. He was watching me carefully.
"How are you different?" he asked me, tipping his chin up.
For some reason it made me smile, then I answered wearing that. "I should like to think I'm a little sweeter. He wasn't so sweet, ever to begin with."
There was a breath to Cole, that made me think he smiled as well.
"He had a way of moving others, too," I added, "—Not only separate men and women, but large groups—to a certain perspective, bringing about peace. I knew another man, Lucian's brother, who was like that. I think it's perfect for a prince, or King."
"You're like that," Cole remarked. "Didn't you see it with the rulers?"
I ducked my head, blushing. "Yes, well... I had a friend who told me the reason for that would be better credited in all to my face."
"Cyric," Cole replied. "Cyric told you that."
I blinked up at him. There was a certainty
to his tone.
"Sounds like another jealous rambling on his part," Cole added. "He'll have thought you were perfect for it all along."
"Let's not speak of that again, Cole," I said, hiking a breath. When his eyes turned concerned, I adjusted. "You said about your mother. Why do you think of her now, today?" In my mind, I thought, how tender a subject this was. I shouldn't like to think that men were like their fathers, and I had good reason for it. But there was no telling, whether Cole's father was a wonderful man who he wanted to resemble. It wasn't fair what I did to Cole all the time, and the least I could do was listen to him about his parents, without thinking of Cyric.
Cole had continued watching me, with that measure of concern. I tried to put on a calm expression to reassure him, and that was when he spoke. "Do you know that Echrian ruler?" he asked. "Leddy? Or Lady Leddy or something?"
I pressed my lips, surprised at this, but I knew he wasn't really asking whether I knew her, he was only referring to her.
Quickly he added, "Don't worry, I'm not in love with her or anything."
I released a breath, I thought, of humor, or scoffing at him, but then I couldn't be sure, could I? "I didn't think that," I told him. "I only wonder what she could have to do with your mother?"
"Well, have you ever heard something about the Vermillion Birds? That they can..." He hesitated, watching me. I blinked, patient for him, and he seemed to start from another direction. "What I mean is, she knew things. About my past. About my mother, even though I hadn't known her. She said I was like her."
"Leddy came to tell you that about your mother?"
Cole's eyes were trained on me, grey and beautiful. There was no doubt to me. I didn't care how scarred he might be underneath his mask. He was beautiful all over beneath it. He paused for a moment. Then he gave a nod.
I swallowed. My first instinct was to wonder whether there was something to Cole, that drew, not only me and my heart, but others of royalty as well. Other princesses? Certainly I wouldn't be surprised to hear that Cole's lost love had been a princess. I wasn't surprised that Leddy might know about anything to do with anyone's past either; I knew for myself, the Echrians knew many things, just as Carceron had known that Cyric would die. But my second thought, was to Cole, and how he had responded to this news. How would it be for me, to hear of my mother, and then that I might be like her?
"Did it disconcert you?" I asked him, guessing as much from his demeanor.
"No," he argued, quickly, but then, "Yes. I mean... I only wonder if it's right."
"Would you like it to be?"
His eyes jerked solidly to me. Had he been watching the horse again? Why did it seem as if he were truly knowledgeable about that horse there out the window. Like it wasn't just Cole and I talking, but Cole, myself, and another soul tied to him?
I frowned at the frenzy to his eyes. What did it reveal? Why could he be so afraid and make me feel stronger? Why did he have to be so much like Cyric, and so different?
"Cole, I'll tell you soundly that you have a sense of royalty about you. Or if not that, then a heroism at least. Was your mother someone noble like that? If she was, I think you must be like her. If she wasn't, then you must not be, no matter what Leddy said."
"But I can't say. I don't know what she was like."
"You know what you're like, don't you? Why should you tell what you're like by your parents? I think that your mother and father both must have been blessed, whether they knew it, or not, just for having had you."
He was shaking his head. "You don't know what you're saying."
"No, I know this right. I know very few things, Cole, but I know this right. Is it my fault, in part, for not helping to convince you? For doing everything just wrong about it? I don't have something to compare you to, Cole. To tell you how precious you are. Should I compare you to Uldin Keep, its towers, or its mountains, which I love? I don't think it would do. In all the lands, for what's left, there's not anything so precious to me as you are. You came when I was so lonely I thought I wouldn't last. I'm not sure, still, whether I would have. I've only known you for a little time, and I can sense what you are. So your mother, and your father, Cole, I think they both must be counted lucky, just for having been a part of you."
"Ellia," Cole spoke. His demeanor had switched. It had gone from remote to frantic, and absolutely present. "Ellia, if you feel such things, then why do we have to be apart from each other? Why won't you just ask to see me? I'll show you. You can have all of me."
I turned my gaze from him, unable to stand his eyes. "We were speaking of your parents, Cole. Don't you see what I mean about them? Don't you care more for that?"
He scoffed. "I care for my parents of course, but I would give up ever having known their names, just to be near to you."
"I wish you wouldn't say such things, Cole."
"Ellia, I love you. A thousand times over, I love you."
My breath was high in my throat; he tried to turn me towards him. I held my breath, then let him spin me around, but as soon as I saw him, I shouted back, "I don't. I don't love you. I don't. I don't want to see you." His hand had been at his throat, to the base of his mask. It was still there, but I had turned my head and closed my eyes not to see, and he had frozen anyways. I could feel it.
"Because of Cyric?" he demanded.
I should have been wiser. Traitor, feet to bring me here. I was too weak before battles after all. Why had I gone on about how precious he was? Was I cruel? I was only afraid; I was afraid.
"No," I called back, eyes still tightly shut. "Not because of that. I only don't."
"But you just said—"
"I said you were precious. So is Minstrel precious. And so is Luffie. And so is Lucian, and Estrid. It's not to do with love as you mean it."
He went still a moment, then I could feel it, his muscles all tensing. "No. I could tell. I could tell when I kissed you. I could tell when we were in Genbu. You know who I am, and you love me."
"I don't love anyone," I argued. "Not ever. I don't. Not ever. I only want to be a good princess. You don't understand it at all."
"But I—"
I wished I had a mask. Then I could cry freely. It pained my eyes now, to keep them from tears. I was protecting him. That's what I was doing. He wouldn't understand it now; maybe he would never. But even so, it would have been worth it; because it was true; I couldn't be his, ever, even if we did survive.
"You're cruel, Cole. You know all I've told you, and you don't leave me be."
"You told me you love Cyric," he argued. For the first time, his voice was angered—not only frantic; and instead of gentle. "Now you're saying that you've never loved anyone."
"You don't know about it. You don't know about it," I repeated.
"I know you need me. Ellia, you need me."
"Stop it. You're making me weak. Don't you just make me weak all the time? I was fine before I met you."
"You just told me that I'm the only reason you've lasted this long."
"I was wrong. I was wrong, in coming. I shouldn't have come."
"You're not making sense," he said. His tone was back to tender. "You're not well. I can't let you leave like this." He tried to reach for me. I batted him away. I wanted to tell him that I hated him, that's how angry I was; that's how much anger that was inside of me. And I couldn't even think of a reason for it. I was scared; I was only scared. Cyric should not have left me.
"No, you're the one who's meant to be gone. Go, go off now, before you don't get to fight at all."
"Ellia,"
"I'll disappear," I threatened. "Leave, or I'll disappear. You wanted me to practice, well I have. I'll disappear so you can't see me at all. I'll never reappear in front of you again."
He stood still, for a moment, for the first moment, completely still, and then in a sudden rush, groaned angrily. "You're behaving ridiculously. Don't do this now."
"Go away. Go away. It's all I want from you. Just leave."
His hands, they w
ent up to his mask again.
I wanted to push him. I wanted to shove him clear in the chest. I wanted to prod him out the window, and over, and on to his death. Instead, in a motion that I hadn't felt so much rage over since I'd stripped my dispel stone from Cyric's neck and shouted at him, I ripped the crown off the top of my head, lifted it high, and slammed it into the floor of the room.
I heard it chip against the wood; I imagined it shattering, though I did not know whether it would. I saw Cole's eyes, wide, and startled. I thought that he would never, and could never love me again. I remembered dropping the crown by the bank, and Cyric stopping me to lay it atop my head; I remembered kissing his cheek. I remembered him kissing me in the forest, then stealing my crown back. I remembered kissing him outside his small soldier's room those first days in Akadia. I remembered him kissing me, when I'd gone to kill him, in his bed. I remembered kissing him on the balcony. And then, then I remembered Cole, kissing me the chamber of stars in Genbu.
"You ruined everything." I shouted at him.
Fallen Warrior (Fallen Trilogy book 3) Page 51