Young Writers Society

Chapter 31

I stand up with a jerk, glancing around. The sky is lightening outside my windows, and my chambers are empty. I look around, confused. When did I fall asleep? What happened? Collapsing onto my bed, I yawn, massaging my sore neck and wincing from the aches in my back. The castle sleeps, and only the tired hoot of an owl or the wind whispering through the leaves of the trees can be heard.

Slowly, I rouse myself from the drowsiness that I want to fall back into, splashing cold water on my face and creeping out into the dark corridors. Flickering torches in their sconces cast terrifying shadows onto the seemingly grim walls. I debate whether or not I should go see Lindon again, but decide against it in the end, knowing that his guard would have been tightened since they had all been knocked out.

Not quite knowing where I’m going or why I’m even out of my rooms, I pad through the long hallways and luxurious arches. I step down one of the spiral staircases and emerge in the guest wing. Here, there are only candles and chandeliers with faerie lights that bob up and down in their places. Some of them imitate will o’ the wisps, winking hello and dancing merrily. I stick to the shadows, winding down the long corridors that resemble a maze.

When I turn one of the corners, I start, unsettled a pale figure in white standing at the far end, swaying against the window. I take quick steps towards whomever it is, releasing a sigh of relief when I see that it’s only Lady Cassandra. She turns, a calculating smile frozen over her face, her blond hair in a braid down her back. Wrapping her dressing gown tighter around herself, she nods hello to me.

“Lady Princess. I’m glad to have found a companion in my sleeplessness.” She turns back to the window, sinking into the windowseat and resting her head in her hands. Still turned toward the window, she says, “Or are you simply up early? I would guess that you had some more training to do with that prince of yours, but you don’t seem dressed for it.” Her voice drips with contempt and bitterness.

Fighting to keep my voice from shaking with anger, I say, “My prince, as you seem to refer to Lindon as, is currently incarcerated for a crime he never committed.”

Cassandra never moves from the window, but she stiffens at Lindon’s name. A moment passes after I speak, and I wonder if I should leave, but then she spits, “You were there. Alex told me, you know. You both saw it happen. I thought fae couldn’t lie. Are you really so deluded?”

I try to speak, but nothing comes out but air. When I try again, I manage to push the words out of gritted teeth. “Fae can’t lie. Imagine how surprised I was when Lindon managed to say perfectly well that he didn’t kill Cyan.”

She whirls around at this, her face blotched red, lip curled in anger. Gone is the sweet, dainty, courtier I had witnessed just this morning. Cassandra gulps, as if holding back a sob, and then manages to choke out, “Don’t. What, then, Prince Lindon-” She coughs, tears streaking down her face, but manages to continues somehow. “Prince Lindon just held a knife to my brother’s throat but didn’t kill him- someone else just slit Cyan’s throat with the exact same knife?”

I take a step forward, knowing I should show some sympathy at her loss. Extending an apologetic hand, I push down my rage, trying to remind myself that Lindon’s imprisonment probably isn’t her fault. “Please, accept my condolences for your loss, Lady Cassandra. I meant no offence towards-”

She tosses her head proudly, sending her golden curls flying over her shoulder. “I don’t want, or need your condolences.” A moment passes as she seems to consider what to say something. Finally, she looks up, meeting my eyes, and says, quite calmly, “And I did mean to offend you, your highness. Let me make my meaning clear. You and Lindon – and every damned faerie in this damned court – is a heartless, conniving, cruel-” She cuts herself off, shaking her head at something.

Wiping the tears from her face, she stands up, stalking back to her room, and slamming the door, making the rafters shake. With an angry sigh, I sit down on the windowseat, snorting at the exchange. I have to find a way to clear Lindon’s name. Swallowing, I turn my attention back to the long hallway, desperately trying to keep the lid on all of my feelings that want to push their way out of my control and wreak havoc on my mind.

Somewhere behind me, a voice splits the air. “I’m sorry about Cass, you know.”

I spin around, and my hair flies into my face. Alexander raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. His shadow looms on the wall behind him, flickering when the torches move. Slowly, he extends a hand, brushing my hair behind my ear before stepping back.

My eyes flick over him as I wonder what he’s doing. “Why? What she said makes sense, and is mostly true.”

He shrugs, gaze distant. “I’ll agree with her about the heartlessness and the cruelty, but I don’t think Prince Lindon did anything to Cyan.”

Something brushes against the back of my feet, and I stumble forward in surprise. “You- you think what?”

Alexander raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think Lindon murdered Cyan.” He crosses his arms and watches me coolly, waiting for my reaction.

I open my mouth, knowing I should be feeling happy, but guilty about feeling even more confused than I was before. “What do you mean, you don’t think Lindon murdered Lord Cyan? You were there! You saw- you saw him put a knife to Cyan’s throat- you were there- what is wrong with you? Even I thought he really did it.”

He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion, still infuriatingly calm. “I thought you’d be happy I believed you.”

I suddenly have the urge to scream and throw something at him- something large, and painful- something that would leave a mark, preferably. “Of course I’m happy that you believe me- why do you believe me?”

With a tiny shrug, he turns and begins to walk away. I start to hurry after him, trip over my own feet, and crash into his back. Thankfully, he doesn’t fall, only stopping my momentum and putting me back upright before walking away from me again. Wondering who cursed me into being so ungraceful at this moment, I scurry after him, somehow struggling to keep up with his long strides. Did I somehow manage to shrink?

No reply comes from Alexander, and when he doesn’t seem to be making any move to answer my question, I ask again. “Why do you believe me?” My voice sounds like I’m whining, and I wince, clearing my throat.

Alexander, never missing a step, simply says, “I don’t know if you really want to know. You seem like you wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

I gape after him, stopping in my tracks for a second before running to catch up. “What do you mean, I seem like I wouldn’t be able to stand it? Of course I can stand it!” When he turns a corner unexpectedly, causing me to trip, I say, “Stop walking away from me and answer my question!”

Alexander stops, and turns around slowly. He studies me for a second, then shrugs, walking back and leaning against the wall across from me. “I believe you because I think I should believe you.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean? Did you see something else? Something that no one else saw? Did something come to light? Do you believe that Lindon can’t lie?” The flood of questions pour out of my mouth without my permission, and I clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself from saying more.

Alexander grins, dropping to the floor, and tugging on my hand. I sit next to him, seriously considering if this is all a very nice dream. “Do you really want me to answer all of those? Because none of them are the reasons why I believe you, you know. I believe you because something inside me is telling me to believe you, and I tend to put too much weight on my instinct, according to my lord father.”

When I speak, my voice is squeaky, and high. “What do you mean, you’re following your instinct? You can’t make decisions that could result in someone’s life or death based on instinct! That- that’s terrible! That’s not even fair to the person!”

Just like before, he waits for me to finish my babbling before replying with utter serenity. “Well, I am, and apparently, it’s right. It’s helping you, so why are you complaining? My instinct is very accurate.” He pauses as he speaks, then shakes his head to himself before continuing, “You probably never follow your instinct, do you?”

I clear my throat and sit up straighter, trying to regain at least some of my lost pride. “Not when it could affect whether someone could live or die, no. Evidence is usually much more accurate in telling you about the situation at hand.”

Alexander frowns. “But in this situation, the evidence shows that Prince Lindon really did kill my cousin. You, his self-professed closest friend, said that whoever killed Cyan certainly looked like him, and he couldn’t say where he was when he was asked.”

I frown, not having heard the last part yet. Why couldn’t he say anything? He wasn’t doing anything wrong, was he?

Alexander answers the question I’m asking in my head. “I think that he chose not to answer, your highness, to protect you. After all, it’s not like you’re not doing certain… treasonous things. He might be in many places that he couldn’t confess to his interrogators.”

I kick at the carpet, scuffing it, and marring its velvety perfection. “His torturers, you mean.” Unexpectedly, my eyes fill with tears at the thought of Lindon being tortured, even now, as we speak, and I blink them away as fast as I can, trying not to let Alexander notice. I send him a thought- I’m here, Lin. Can you hear me? But no reply comes, and I sag against Alexander, all hopes gone. My tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, and I look up, trying to keep them from flowing out.

Of course, I’m unable to do so, and he tips my chin up towards him, wiping my tears away with a gentle finger. Taking my hand in his, he says, “Prince Lindon will be fine, Ri-Ria.” I smile weakly as he stumbles over my nickname. A light pink flush covers his cheeks, and he peeks down at me, as if checking to see if I’m alright with him shortening my name. I smile back, and he looks away, his eyes follow a dancing light that hops from one lamp to the other.

He glances back at me, his gaze steadier. “It will be fine, because you have plenty of people who will help you make it fine. Myself included.” He smiles again, this time reassuringly, and I find myself smiling back brilliantly despite myself.

Somehow, I don’t even feel tired, or sleepy, sitting here with Alexander. Still, I know that this must come to an end, so I stand up, pulling my hand out of his grasp, and schooling my face into a semblance of tiredness and faking a yawn. “I really should go your highness. Thank you for the kind words.” I nod to him, and I see his face fall before I turn and walk away, resisting the temptation to stay there, with him, for the rest of the night.

“Good night, Rionach. Sleep well.” His voice echoes down the corridor, chasing after me, and I turn back around and smile at him, waving goodbye, giving into the sweet delight of watching him smile back and watch me walk until I’ve turned the corner and disappeared.

When I get back to my room, my face still glued into a happy smile, the first thing I do is fly to my desk and take a seat, pulling a fresh sheet of stationery from my stack and pulling a quill and ink to me. I scribble a note to Prince Alexander, dripping ink onto my desk and ripping the stationery in my excitement.

Do come visit me sometime, when all this chaos has died down. I think I’d quite enjoy hearing more about Lysian. HRH, Rionach Lasairiona Aisling Valeclann

I glance over it with a smile before gleefully folding it and sealing it with glimmering gold wax. As I set it down and wait for it to harden, my smile slowly fades away as reality approaches me and wraps its cruel arms around me, crushing my sudden joy. A little voice at the back of my mind says, What did you think you were doing? Did you think you could carry on a flirtation with a prince of Lysian? Think of the scandal it would create if you did?

I frown as my mind whirls with reasons for me not to continue speaking to him on such terms. Quickly, mechanically, I rip the note I’ve written into tiny pieces, scattering them into the fire and watching them curl into little black heaps of cold ash, to be swept away by the scullery maids in the morning and blown away on the wind. Silent, I blow out the candles in my room one by one, shutting and locking the balcony doors, but leaving the curtains open. I curl into my tall bed, making a heap of pillows as I gaze into the starry skies just outside my room. The stars wink at me, dancing in their places just like the faerie-lights in the corridors. I suppress a smile at the memory of Alexander stepping out from the shadows, reminding myself that thinking of him shouldn’t make me happy.

No more weaknesses while you have Blathen to contend with. He doesn’t need more people he can use against you. At that thought, I laugh bitterly to myself, wondering if my father’s impeding death is really a good thing, so that I couldn’t be threatened with his life, too? But then I remind myself that no, if he is alive and well, my mother would have no reason to bring Blathen here, or have as much power as she does currently.