by C. A. Sabol
Selene’s gaze slowly shifted from Dorian’s back to Cyerra’s face. Instantly Selene felt her heart ache again. Cyerra herself was crying softly, no doubt at the memory. Even if the women of the court had hated Selene, Cyerra’s concern for her well-being was enough to convince Selene that her surviving was worth something at least.
“Anyhow,” Dorian continued, “I wanted to let you know that I’m glad that you’re all right, Selene. And I want you to know that we are giving you and your protector the best medical care possible right now. I’m sure that everything will be just fine.”
Selene nodded slowly. There was an undertone to Dorian’s voice, telling her that he was doubtful for Etoileon’s survival. Selene knew that nothing on Sapphira would convince her that everything would be just fine again, but it was nice to see Dorian was taking Etoileon’s condition so seriously. “Thank you,” she whispered, before resting her head down once more on her pillow.
Dorian looked back at her and sighed. He could not order her out of her obvious depression, but he hoped that he had at least comforted her somewhat. “I will see you later,” Dorian told her, before he headed out the door.
Cyerra, having wiped her tears on a handkerchief, stepped forward. “Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Princess?”
Selene heard her title and flinched. “Cyerra,” she said quietly. “Call me Selene.”
“But why, Your Highness? It isn’t proper that I should call you by your christened name,” Cyerra tried to argue.
“I don’t want to be a princess right now,” Selene sighed. “Today has been long, and tomorrow will no doubt be longer. Why waste strength on such cold formalities?”
“Yes, Your High- I mean, Selene,” Cyerra quickly corrected herself. She was a little surprised by the Princess’ words, but she let it go, rationalizing that the Princess had not had an easy day, and that she had to be experiencing a lapse in judgment. “Get some rest. I’ll be here if you need me to get you anything.”
Selene nodded and waited until Cyerra had returned to her position by the door before rolling over on her side and letting her tears fall quietly. She did not, could not, go to sleep.
AEMON WATCHED THE DARK water spilt as his ship coursed on his path to Jewel Island. He looked up to the sky and watched the moonlight of the two moons bounce off of the waves. A small smile flickered on his face as he thought of the reports brought to him moments earlier.
Diamond City was scarred with rubble and debris. The city would be in disarray for months, though it looked like the mobilization for war had started. He knew that the enemy’s troops were already summoned, and that the armies would be trained in a matter of days. But for the moment he had great confidence in his victory.
He had heard the news about the Princess. Everyone in Diamond City it seemed had been hoping that she would be all right, and miraculously, she had awoken from her slumber just hours ago. He’d been surprised to hear that she’d woken up as soon as she did, considering that his intelligence forces had informed him of her injuries. She’d been proclaimed half-dead at the scene.
He should’ve known that she wouldn’t die. She was considered by many to be a mild thing, weak and naïve. But in the few days he’d been with her, Aemon had realized that no one who thought that about her could possibly know her well. Besides, he thought, she was the key to peace. If she died, so did the hope of peace for the whole world. Like anyone concerned with war and peace, he’d heard of the legendary tales of Selene bringing about peace in this world after she married and part of her died. What nonsense, Aemon thought. But it seemed that the people of Sapphira believed in that kind of nonsense. And what was conquering, after all, but capturing the minds and wills of the people? Aemon knew that if he could fit the prophecy, he would manage to do what no war had ever done: defeat the monarchy.
Aemon’s smirk grew as he looked back over the horizon. “Sleep well, Selene ... these next few months are going to be hard for you,” he muttered.
Chapter 8
Pegasus
FOR MANY DAYS, THE princess remained in her bed under the doctor’s orders. Her medical caretaker, Dr. Hamersley, was a constant presence at her side, running all sorts of tests. He was the first one to call attention to her unusual behavior.
It was almost always the same. She would be sitting up in bed, her eyes focused out of the window, when he came in. If she was not just staring off into space, she was writing on small scraps of paper she’d torn from her medical chart. It did not seem to matter when he was coming, whether it was in the dark hours of the morning or the middle of the day—she was always in the same position. He would wonder how much sleep she had gotten the night before, if any at all. Every time she would turn slowly and look at his face, her eyes wide and unfocused; there was no trace of a smile on her face.
“How is Etoileon doing?” she would ask in a soft tone, though she already knew the answer. Doctor Hamersley knew that the princess kept close watch on the condition of her protector. Her handmaidens had been instructed to keep her updated as often as possible on any developments. But for some reason, she continued to ask him. And if the Doctor didn’t answer her, her eyes would turn a bright splotchy red. If he did, whether the news was good or bad or there remained no change (which was the answer in most cases) she would look away and sigh ever so softly.
It had been that way for two weeks. Today as he looked on her, Doctor Hamersley had a strong feeling that their routine would have little alteration. Looking in on her sad figure, he silently prayed to the Guardian that she would feel better this morning. It was such a lovely day outside.
He walked in, knocking a bit on the door as he entered. “Your Highness,” he greeted her with a hopeful smile. He walked in and immediately retracted his steps. There were scraps of paper all over the floor. The Princess had been writing all night this time, it looked like.
She looked over at him. Her eyes were tired—more than usual. Again, he wondered if she had gotten any sleep that night. She nodded silently to acknowledge him. “How is Etoileon today, Dr.?” she asked.
“No change today, Your Highness, but don’t lose hope.” For a moment, Selene just looked at him. Then a small smile curved to her face for a split second, before it disappeared once more. Dr. Hamersley was almost certain that it hadn’t happened at all, but he knew that there was no mistaking her flicker of a smile.
Before he could say anything else, she turned away and sighed. There was no response after that. The doctor took his tests as quickly as possible, so as not to disturb her, and then he bid her farewell. She just nodded to him again as he left, before her gaze turned back to the window.
RONAL FELT HIS HEART lift as he headed up the medical ward stairway to see Cyerra. It had been a somber time, and he could not even clearly remember the last time that he had to work so hard to be even remotely happy. Who could be happy when such tragedy was upon their land? War had broken out, and some of the isles were already fighting each other. Taking sides carried a hefty price, and it was all paid in pain and blood.
He held the flower that he’d bought down at the nursery in the city street market in his one hand as he pushed open the doors to the royal wards.
Cyerra was there, and he smiled brightly, his first genuine smile in a long time. But his smile quickly faded as he looked into Cyerra’s tired face and saw her unhappiness and fatigue.
“Cyerra,” he whispered, taking hold of her arm and pulling on her gently, urging her to follow him to the side for a moment. Cyerra looked at the other handmaiden attending to the watch duty, Rosaria, who waved her off with a wink. Ronal realized that it had to be a sign to tell Cyerra that it was okay for her to talk with him, because Cyerra nodded and then obligingly headed with Ronal in a direction away from the princess’ room.
“Ronal, I’m so glad that you came,” she whispered in a soft tone. “I am sorry that I cannot talk at the normal volume, but you must understand we have several patients here.”
“That’s fi
ne, Cyerra, my dear,” Ronal smirked, trying to get a laugh out of her. She looked so down that he thought she could use a lift. “How are you? You look tired.”
“I am,” Cyerra admitted. “But I am worried, too. Her Highness is not doing so well. I worry for her.”
“I’m sure that the King will see to your pay, don’t worry.”
“It’s not just that, Ronal,” Cyerra frowned. “I happen to admire the princess very much. She has always been kind to me.”
“I’m sorry, that was a bit mean,” Ronal admitted. “I am, I assure you, deeply sorrowful as well.”
Cyerra smiled knowingly. “Now you’re just teasing me,” she remarked. “But I know that you have had to deal with so much as well as I, so I will forgive you. I am sorry to hear that Etoileon is not any better yet. You are his best friend. I can’t imagine how anxious you are for him to at least wake up.”
Ronal nodded. Cyerra had struck a chord. “You’re right,” he nodded. “I miss having him around to joke and tease and fight with. He’s more like my brother than a friend. Even in our training sessions, it’s not the same without him beating me up during practice.”
Cyerra and Ronal turned the corner and found themselves at the food court in the medical ward. It was a place for newly active patients, lackeys, and desk workers on break from their shifts. At one of the counters, Cyerra ordered a juice drink and Ronal got a small glass of water.
They headed over to the large windows and sat down with their backs to the glass. The grey sunlight had never seemed to be so unforgivingly bright. Cyerra stretched out and then drew her legs and skirts underneath her, tucking the smooth fabric in a discreet ladylike manner. She sipped from her juice glass and sighed heavily.
“What is it?” Ronal asked.
“Nothing,” she said, “It’s just that it’s been so quiet and depressing around here. Her Highness insisted that I call her by her given name the other day.”
“So?”
“So, this must be a terrible strain on her, for her to say that.”
Ronal shrugged. “I don’t think it’s so unusual, Cyerra. You and I don’t use formalities. And I know that Etoileon and the princess have been friends for years, calling each other by their real names. And anyway, you can hardly blame her. Etoileon once told me that she hated to be referred to as ‘Her Highness’.”
“Really? Why?” Cyerra asked.
Ronal looked up pensively. “I guess it’s because when you focus so much on titles and prestige, you forget that you’re dealing with an actual presence.” He took a sip of his water and shrugged. “I suppose.”
Cyerra gazed thoughtfully into the distance. “I never thought about it that way,” she admitted. She gave him a small smile. “Who would’ve thought that names were so personal?”
They sat there quietly as her question hung in the air, never to be completely answered.
A moment later, Ronal cocked his head. “Have you heard from your brother?”
“Aemon disowned me, I’m sure,” Cyerra frowned. She looked away as her frown deepened. “I am quite sure that I am no longer his favorite sister.”
“But you are his only sibling.”
“We actually used to have an older brother, but he was lost in the war as well,” Cyerra sighed sadly, trying to give a small smile anyway. “And anyway, Aemon can and will hold his grudges against those who are opposed to him. I wish he wouldn’t. Look at what this grudge has wrought; he has failed to see that the Sapphiran monarchy is not the responsible party for taking the life of our father.”
“And now the planet’s at war?” Ronal finished quietly, as a melancholy seemed to descend on Cyerra. She merely nodded and then dropped her head.
She looked up and shook her head. “How long do you think the war will last this time?” she asked him. “How long will it be until we talk of joyful things, of silly, happy times, and the beautiful things that war makes us forget?”
Ronal cocked an eyebrow at her, unsure of what to say, or even if he should say anything at all. He didn’t really understand girls when they were like this. Cyerra was tired and emotionally overwrought. But as he thought about it some more, her words were strangely appropriate in a way that he could not explain. What was it about the passion for peace in the middle of all things, that brought down the soul to speechlessness, to a point of realization that there are millions of words, and yet all of them were meaninglessly empty went it came to expressing the feelings brought forth in silence?
WHEN HE WALKED OUTSIDE the door and pulled it shut behind him, Dr. Hamersley found himself face to face with the Princess’ governess. The doctor smiled in greeting. “Lady Aura,” he welcomed her.
“Dr. Hamersley,” Aura acknowledged crisply. “What is the news today? How is she? Any better today?”
The doctor nodded. “She is tired. If she would get more sleep, she would be completely healthy at this point. I’d say that you could remove the feeding tube now. Her complexion is pale, but not her usual brightness, so I suggest that you try to make sure that she eats at every meal. Her wounds are healing slowly, most likely due to her lack of rest.” He let off on a sigh.
Aura nodded. “I see.”
Dr. Hamersley looked at her sympathetically. “You appear to be worried for her, I see.” The doctor took her arm and patted it comfortingly. “She is very dear to us all, my Lady. I assure you, we suffer as one.”
Aura nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I feel so responsible for her. And she is not talking to me; but come to that, she barely speaks at all. I don’t know what is wrong with her. All she does is sit there. She tells me that she’s busy thinking when I ask what she would like to do. She tells her handmaidens that she doesn’t want to talk when they come to watch over her. I don’t understand her.”
“Something tells me that the Princess is going through some kind of shock,” Dr. Hamersley replied. “She is mourning, too. No doubt she is grieved to hear of war and those that are dying. Even if you do not tell her what is going on exactly, I suspect that she has a strong idea of what is.”
Aura had wanted to interrupt him, but he continued. “She is a lot more perceptive than we think, my Lady. She really needs to get some sleep. It would do wonders for her heart, too. Being tired and emotionally distraught at the same time is never a good thing.”
“Doctor, the other day when I came into her room, she was writing. I looked down at what she had written. It was a poem of some sort. Now that she is in the medical ward, she has not had her usual classes or any of her tutelage.”
“I see. Did the poem make you feel uncomfortable in some manner?”
“Yes. I actually wrote it down on another piece of paper. It wasn’t very long. In fact, why don’t you tell me what you think of it?” Aura reached into her drawstring purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she handed it to the doctor, who promptly read it.
“The dirt is damp and cold,
The air is stale and dry
Such little warmth to hold
As I lay inside my grave to cry.”
The doctor folded up the paper once more and shook his head. “Quite interesting, Lady Aura. She is –“
“Going to need counseling?” Aura interrupted. There was a look on her face that was tight with tension and fear.
“No. But I think that she needs a friend right now. It appears that she is lonely and sad, which under the circumstances is only to be expected. But then, I am no expert in such matters.”
“I will talk to her,” Aura decided. “She is being rather childish about this war anyway. She must learn sooner or later that the people of this world will not always allow her to have her way.”
“I think she already knew that, my Lady. And while she had such hope for the peace of this world, I suspect that is why she is full of remorse,” the doctor said gently. Then he inclined his head respectfully and walked away, leaving the governess to stare at him with her mouth open in surprise.
When her surpr
ise at being corrected was over a moment later, she shook her head and knocked on the door to Selene’s room.
There was no response from the other side. Aura sighed and just walked in. “Your Highness?” She carefully walked over to where Selene sat unmoving on her bed.
Aura looked at the princess’ eyes, their gazes meeting and allowing Aura to see that the doctor had made no exaggeration. Selene’s eyes were indeed a bright red-pink in color and there were huge black circles under her eyes.
“Princess,” Aura said, “You really must stop this. Staying up all hours of the day will not make Etoileon wake up.”
Selene smiled ruefully at her. “I cannot seem to help it,” she remarked. When Aura just scolded at her response, Selene sighed. “I don’t do it on purpose, Aura. I can’t seem to relax in this room.”
“Well, I suppose that you would feel a little uncomfortable,” Aura reasoned. “When you move back into the Palace rooms tomorrow, I’m sure that you will be all right then.”
“I’m moving?”
“Yes, Your Highness. In a while. The Palace has nearly been completely rebuilt in these pass two weeks,” Aura informed her. “Several innovations have been made as well, to insure higher security, so Your Highness need not worry about the war while you are inside.”
Selene made no comment. “And Etoileon?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t be silly,” Aura’s voice had a hard bite to it. “He has to remain here, so the Doctors can keep watching his condition.”
“I see.”
Aura was surprised by the princess’ ready acceptance. It was not like the princess to be so compliant, Aura thought. She was suddenly worried and suspicious, but looking at the sad, tired expression on her charge’s face, Aura nodded and let it go. She almost wanted to comfort her, but she knew it was not her place to do so.
“Will I be allowed to visit him, Aura?”
Aura flinched. “Beg pardon, Your Highness?”