Shackles of Uncertainty
Our lives are governed pretty much by uncertainty. The future is always a mystery; what others are thinking is an enigma, and tomorrow is forever an unknown. Thus, it is certain that everyone, deep down, has some form of uncertainty in his or her heart. And this very uncertainty causes him/her to tread lightly, watch her step. It influences her life, her decisions, and ultimately her future.
But what if that uncertainty is unfounded?It was the day of the ball at Renais Castle, and as the princess, Marisa was supposed to play her part as a representative of Jehanna, which meant engaging in diplomatic conversation with the other princesses and queens, ballroom dancing with the other kings and princes and generally watching in boredom as the night dragged on.
She had just taken a bath, complete with the bath salts that made her skin tingle and the warm water that made her sigh. Being princess was a chore, but it also meant the finest of material comforts and the zenith of luxury.
There was a polite knock on the door. "Your highness," an attendant called. Opening the door, the attendant did a perfect 90-degree bow. "You have a guest who came calling while you were bathing. He did not give a name, but he is currently waiting in the Hall of Harmony. Would your highness receive him?"
It must be Gerik. She smiled at the thought of meeting her old acquaintances. How thoughtful of them to visit me every now and then. "I'll be there is a short while."
As she changed into a light summer robe, she hummed happily to herself. Gerik was always so timely! His visit would help bring some cheer into her gloomy and miserable day, and it would give her something to mull over during the uneventful hours of the ball.
However, the door opened to reveal a person who was not at all Gerik.
"Saleh?"
Said sage stood and bowed towards her. He looked even more haggard and tired than the last time she had seen him, but the slight smile on his face seemed to light up his appearance. "Marisa, princess," he greeted graciously. "The lady said you were busy, and I apologise to have interrupted you."
She smiled. "None of the formalities, Saleh." She took a seat on the couch beside him. "You're making me embarrassed. How's everyone?"
"Everyone's fine," Saleh frowned. "But the aim of my visit today is not about us. It's about you."
"Me?" She cocked her head.
Sighing, he took a careful sip of the tea. Replacing the cup and the saucer on the table, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You shouldn't have married him, Marisa," he explained. "I did some research on Prince Joshua, and all I can say is that he is a philanderer and a gambler. For the gambling aspect, I believe you are aware of that already. He frequents gambling dens and makes bets with his subjects, often involving large sums of money as wagers. For the philandering portion…I'm not sure if I shall say it." He glanced at her swiftly.
"…" She swallowed. "Just say it." It was better to know what her husband had been doing rather than be kept in the dark like a fool.
"Well…The prince has been romantically linked to several women, many of whom he has been keeping up correspondences," Saleh uttered, choosing his words carefully. "He was known to be on intimate terms with the princess of Rausten, Princess L'Arachel. He has been sending her regular letters, the envelope bearing the royal seal, the contents of dubious nature that no one has yet confirmed. The more recent one was his affair with Natasha, a cleric in this very palace. It was said that the rumour spread so fast that the queen personally intervened to halt the remarks of her son's moral character. People claim that the prince proposed to Natasha, only that she rejected his proposal…"
With every word Saleh said, she turned a shade paler. Thus, when he finished, her face was as white as her robe, with all the blood drained. Tightly, she gripped the arm of the couch, trying to keep herself from trembling. "So is it true?" she demanded, her gaze boring into Saleh's. "Is it?"
"I wish to refute it, Marisa," Saleh sighed sadly. "But my sources…they have been accurate so far…"
The world around her was spinning. She stood up and took an unsteady step, her eyes vacant. Her hands played nervously with the flowing sash of her gown, jerking furiously.
She sat down again on the couch heavily with her mouth slightly agape. Her lips trembled; she attempted to speak but no sound came out. Her mouth was too dry, almost parched.
With shaking hands, she reached for her cup of tea. Her cup with half-empty by the time the ceramic touched her lips, half the contents having spilled out onto the saucer. She replaced the empty cup jerkily. No, the tea did nothing to assuage the arid feel of her mouth.
"Marisa?" Saleh asked, looking concerned. "Are you alright? Did I…I should have never said all that I had just spilled…"
"No!" The loudness of her voice startled him as it startled her. "I mean…I'm alright. It just…takes time for everything to sink in…"
She tried to calm herself down by taking a deep breath, then soaking up the spilt tea with a generous handful of napkins. She propped up the cushions, patted the couch, straightened her robes, and tucked back her flyaway hairs. Finally, having run out of things to fuss over, she settled back onto the couch beside Saleh in a gloomy silence, deliberating all that she had just heard.
So that time when I overheard the two clerics gossiping…it was the truth…that stupid egocentric selfish heartless bastard! She thought furiously. If he already has the attention and affection of so many women, why did he marry me? Why can't he marry one of his many girlfriends? And why deceive me? Why make me feel comfortable with him? Is the companionship of his harem not sufficient?
"I wished I stopped you," Saleh sighed.
"Sorry?" She looked at him curiously.
"I could have stopped you from being married to this jerk," Saleh explained. "That day when you came to me, I could have stopped you from leaving. Then, you would never land in this predication." His voice was reduced to a fluttering whisper. "Maybe we could still be working on missions…maybe we could still be picking the cherries from the old cherry tree by the river…" His hand had grasped hers. "Maybe…maybe we could start something new together…"
She pondered his words, his actions and his expressions. Finally the pieces fell into place. "Saleh…" Her tongue caressed his name like the winter wind stroking the last chrysanthemum blooms, soft and soothing, but with a deep underlying sorrow and despair. "Saleh…"
What could have been was too late. It was too late to cherish the cherry blossoms after they faded. It was too late to try and love someone once they were out of their reach.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She was anguished, hot tears springing to her eyes. She refused to let them fall; it was not the time to be weak. "Why…" If he had professed earlier, maybe their destinies would be rewritten. Maybe, as he had suggested, they could currently be sitting on the cherry tree, savouring the fruits and sharing the lemonade from his flask.
There were too many maybes, and too many ifs. And love was not dependent on maybe and if. It was an opportunity, a chance in the path of time. Once the time had passed, the opportunity was lost, the love had never blossomed, and it never would again.
Time and tides wait for no man. Or woman.
All she felt was a cold anguish, a scorching sense of emptiness at how different her destiny could have been.
Slowly, she stood up, ringing the bell for the attendant to show Saleh out in spite of his polite but firm protests. She had had enough to bear for one day, and there was still the ball in the evening to prepare for.
Sometimes, even those with the strongest of hearts need to run away.
She sat solemnly in her seat, in a little alcove of peace created by the gentle fall of the sweeping satin curtain. Her fan had long been forgotten on the table beside her. Her cup of tea lay still and untouched, growing colder by the minute. She smoothed the wrinkles of her cream silk robes, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the sheer extravagance of the simple dress, which could have fed a typical family of four for three days. A conspicuous heinous piece of patchwork created by gluing feathers, sequins and gemstones together (which they called a mask) cast a shadow over her face.
Joshua was traipsing across the ballroom, a glass of wine in one hand and the other holding the hand of some blushing beauty he was currently flattering. He leaned closer to the maiden's ear and whispered a few words to her, causing her face to turn a ripe shade of red. She giggled at his words.
Looking satisfied at having made his companion laugh, he turned his head around, his gaze sweeping over the ballroom and landing on her. He pointedly caught her gaze and winked.
Forcibly turning her gaze away, she scrutinized the various occupants of the ballroom. Amongst the most prominent were King Innes of Frelia and his wife, Vanessa. King Innes appeared to be engaged in a heated verbal spar with King Ephraim of Renais, his host, while Vanessa and King Ephraim's wife, Tana, attempted to calm the two arguing lords down.
"We Frelians would never engage in foolish behaviour and thus we will never send reinforcements if you shall insist on provoking Grado by yourself, Ephraim," Innes said loftily, although his tone had an undercurrent of anger.
"Well then, Innes," Ephraim responded. "Would you rather have your kingdom blazed to the ground than take firm action? Is pre-emptive strike not better than retaliating after they have infiltrated our land?"
"They will never infiltrate Frelia; our security is one of the tightest in Magvel," Innes retorted scornfully. "If Renais has not been doing their homework and keeping a close eye on their borders, however…" He trailed off in a derisive snicker.
"We keep a very close eye on our border, thank you very much for your royal concern," Ephraim replied, mimicking Innes' tone. The sarcasm in his voice caused a ripple of laughter amongst those listening. "However, our scouts are alarmed that Grado is stationing increasing numbers of armed forces at the borders, and thus we have need to prepare for war."
"That's incredulous!" Innes cried. "Magvel has been in peace for the past millennium and you say that this war is going to break out? Impossible! The treaties signed by our forefathers would dictate the peace in black and white, never to be shattered."
"Yes," Ephraim said heavily. "But treaties are just promises, ink on paper. They can be torn, destroyed, burnt, thrown away and violated. There have been broken promises in this world and I am certain there will be."
Innes frowned. The idea of war evidently was repugnant to him. "But are you sure of Grado's intentions? It is unwise to march into another's land and conquer their soil, only to discover everything was a misunderstanding."
"There is no mistake," Ephraim reaffirmed. "The spies were no mistakes. The turmoil at the borders is no mistake. The danger that is looming over all of us is no mistake. We need to do this at a heavy cost, because other option would prove even costlier."
Innes fell silent, frowning as he mentally weighed the possible costs of each option. Renais and Frelia had been long-time allies, agreeing to help each other in times of need. However, as the respective leaders of their countries, the interests of their own nations took precedence over crumbling pieces of agreements on yellowed parchment.
"In the event that Renais falls," Ephraim enunciated clearly. "Your only buffer against Grado is gone, Innes. What will you do then?" He took a step back. "My fellow lords and ladies, kings and queens, we face a great threat from Grado, and I am certain everyone has already experienced the insidious attempts of the Grado spies. It is evident Magvel is on the border of war, and there is no turning back. Either we prepare and stand together, or we fall one by one." He turned and asked a heavily-built short man with green gelled hair. "Lord Dozla, as imperial advisor to the King of Rausten, do you believe that after Renais has fallen, Grado will be contented?"
Dozla grunted. "No, probably would carry on to devour us."
"Exactly!" Ephraim brought his fist crashing down onto the table, causing a few wine glasses to leap. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not Renais' battle alone; it is our fight, our war. Thus, I hereby beseech everyone to be always on your guard, and to support each other should the worst occur."
The ballroom was silent, as everyone watched Ephraim down his wine in a single gulp. The possibility of war was distant, yet so near. From the faces of most of the lords and ladies, they had not even considered the probability of danger in the near future.
Ephraim looked at his mute audience, then shrugged awkwardly. "Well, at least somebody was listening," he grinned, clapping his hands to ask the orchestra to strike up a lively tune once again.
Acting as though the possibility of war vanished again beyond the horizon, the lords and ladies resumed their idle chatter and twirled in pairs across the ballroom. The atmosphere returned to what it had originally been like before Ephraim dropped the bombshell.
These people…if Grado does invade, half of them will perish due to sheer ill-preparedness…Marisa thought in disgust as she pondered all that Ephraim had said. Vigilance seems like a non-existent word in their vast vocabulary…how tragic.
As the night progressed, the ballroom became progressively noisier as the guests grew progressively drunk.
"Hello beauteous maiden…care for a dance?" A plump drunken lord in bright blue waistcoat slurred as he staggered past her.
She turnd away from his outstretched hand, fingers laden with heavy rings, and sneered in disgust.
Taking the hint, the drunken lord staggered away, in search for other young and available prey.
Sighing, she removed her mask. It was getting warm in the corner where she was sitting, and the thick fabric of her robes was not helping.
"Hello! I am L'Arachel! Who are you?" She heard someone yell. She turned around to see a young princess with light green hair, decked in a six-tier white ball gown, plunging into the empty seat next to hers.
"That's the new princess of Jehanna, Princess L'Arachel," the man who had previously been identified as Dozla bowed as he said.
"Oh…so you're Joshua's wife…" L'Arachel leant forward and scrutinized her face. "Humph…I knew I was the fairest one in this ballroom!" she proclaimed with an generous hand gesture.
"Princess!" Dozla threw his arms into the air in horror. "What a thing to say!"
Marisa eyes their exchange silently. So this was the famous L'Arachel…She was, needless to say, very beautiful, and she had a svelte figure, but there was something lacking in her that did not make her seem quite like a princess. Was it the flamboyance, or the shrill high-pitched voice?
"Well, I didn't say anything wrong, did I?" L'Arachel folded her arms. "Well, don't worry dear, you're quite pretty too. I'm happy that Joshua has finally found someone lovely he can stay with. That man needs some feminine charm in his life!"
Marisa raised her eyebrows at L'Arachel's proclamation. The princess of Rausten was…certainly very outspoken, and pretty vulgar at that.
"Oh! I think I see someone I can go talk to…" L'Arachel squealed as she spied a tall man in a black suit walk pass. "Come on Dozla, let's go say hi to Senator Brandon! I can't believe Carcino came as well!" She gave Marisa a friendly wave. "See you around, darling!"
What a…weird woman…
And so ended the only diplomatic introductory conversation she conducted that evening. Technically, with it being a monologue monopolized mainly by L'Arachel, one could not even label it a conversation.
Her back was stiff from staying as straight as a poker for the past four hours. Pins and needles were painfully causing sharp pricks in her legs now and then. Her waist ached from the constricting sash of the dress, tied around her waist. Her feet hurt from wearing long hours of dainty little slippers that did little to cushion her weight.
Everyone else was either dancing, still engaging in diplomatic banter (such as Ephraim and Innes), or had slumped in the chairs and on the couches, eyes glazed from intoxication.
She wondered if she should go and take a walk in the famed gardens of Renais and indulge herself in the evening wind outside of this stuffy ballroom.
A hand clapped over her mouth from behind all of a sudden. Another hand shot out swiftly and grabbed her waist, pulling her behind the curtains.
She pulled at her assailant's hands with all her might, but to no avail. She attempted to kick him in his shins, but he swiftly dodged her kicks. She struggled, shaking herself violently, but he latched on fast, refusing to let go. She could feel his muscles rippling as he fought to contain her.
She fought harder, thrashing.
"For Saint Elimine's sake, Marisa!" A voice hissed out of the darkness.
She recognized that voice and froze. "Rennac?" She stopped struggling in surprise and annoyance. "Is that you?"
The strong pair of arms holding her captive released her swiftly. She spun around and found herself staring at Rennac, clothed in a plain but classy black suit and an open white Oxford shirt. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Completely unruffled, he stared at her, grinning.
"Why did you kidnap me?" She hissed angrily. "I mistook that you were another assassin."
"Tsk tsk…" Rennac smirked, flirting effortlessly. "Didn't you smell my scent, princess? Didn't you feel your heart speed up while I was behind you?"
She rolled her eyes and aimed a kick at his shin. It hit, prompting a stifled cry of pain from him. "Why are you here?" She folded her arms across her chest. Flirtations did not work with her.
"For that kick," he grumbled. "I'm not telling you."
"Do you want another one?" she threatened, raising her foot.
"I'm princess L'Arachel's escort," he said simply, raising his hands in defeat. "Geez, you kick really hard for a woman."
"Escort?" she raised an eyebrow. "I thought Dozla would be her escort? He follows her around everywhere."
"Mmhmm…maybe…" he shrugged nonchalantly. "He follows her like a puppy following its master…I'm not that devoted and dumb." He proffered his hand. "Come, this place is stifling."
"Now you know…" she muttered, taking his hand.
"Want to dance, my fair princess?" Rennac bent low over her hand once they re-entered the light and music. "This poor swine begs a dance of your ravishing and gorgeous royal highness of Jehanna."
She blushed, but laughed at the absurdity of his statement and the mockery of his voice. "Sorry, I don't dance." She gave an apologetic smile. "I'm not good at it."
"If you are embarrassed by the crowd," Rennac suggested, persisting. "We could always head to the private balconies, where we could draw the curtains and still dance to the music."
"Won't that be a little…" She trailed off as he dragged her off to the nearest balcony and drew the curtains in a swift motion. "…scandalous?"
Heart beating faster and faster, she placed one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand and stepped with the music.
It was a slow waltz. In the main hall, the orchestra played slowly, a romantically slow tune that gave partners plenty of time to enjoy each other's company.
She let him lead her in tune to the music, moving as gracefully as her innate clumsy nature allowed her to. Her palms were sweating in sheer nervousness, and she extremely relieved that she was wearing silk gloves. She looked down, refusing to meet his gaze lest he see her nervousness.
"You're not bad at this, you know…" Rennac broke the silence. "For a beginner, this is pretty good."
She nodded mutely in thanks, blushing. This was so awkward…if anyone were to see them…
"What did L'Arachel say to you?" he asked out of the blue.
She raised an eyebrow at his random question. "She said…that she was the princess of Rausten, and that I was pretty, but that she was the fairest lady in the ballroom."
He laughed dryly. "That last part sounded exactly like what she would say to a person she was just introduced to. Her vanity astounds me."
She shrugged and looked away. It was not in her position, as the representative of Jehanna, to say anything loaded that could be interpreted in the wrong manner.
They waltzed in silence, swaying gently to the music. The evening wind was cool, and it chaffed her cheeks till they were as cold and smooth as marble. The scent of night roses wafted to her nose.
With a final spin, Rennac set her down gently on the ground. "I thank you, my princess, for gracing me with a dance." He bowed over her hand and kissed it.
"Rennac…" She flushed at his gesture and attempted to pull away, but to no avail. She tried harder. "What if someone sees us? I should go…"
"Indeed you should."
She spun around instantly. Rennac's hold on her hand slackened, and she freed her hands, keeping the offending pair of hands guiltily behind her back.
Joshua was leaning against one of the pillars, arms crossed tensely.
She wondered how long he had been standing there unnoticed, how much he had seen and heard. The darkness and the shadows that hid his face made it difficult to decipher his expression, but from the scathing tone of his voice, he had seen and heard just enough to misinterpret.
"Prince Joshua, of Jehanna," Rennac recovered from the shock first and bowed with mock politeness. "What a pleasure to see your royal highness. I was just enjoying lovely waltz with your exquisite consort, seeing as your royal highness was…occupied with other pressing matters."
Joshua laughed lightly, dismissing the biting sarcasm in Rennac's tone.
"I do not believe we have been introduced," Joshua returned the favour, scorn dripping from his voice. "But I thank you for taking excellent care of my wife while I was pre-occupied. But if you do not object, I would like to spend some time with my wife now, alone."
Rennac shrugged casually. "I did think of escorting Princess Marisa back into your royal highness' arms, but I could not find your highness amongst the harems of womenfolk, so I decided instead to entertain your consort with a paltry dance."
Joshua laughed again. "Well then, it is little wonder you could not find me," he replied smoothly. "The harems of womenfolk are places I always take pains to avoid. Perhaps you could attempt Ephraim and Innes next time? I do enjoy diplomatic banter more than idle chatter."
Rennac bowed gracefully. "I'll take note of that your royal highness. I thank you for bestowing upon me the opportunity to dance with your consort this evening. Good day."
"Good day to you too…?"
"Rennac. Pleased to be of service."
Marisa watched Rennac slowly exit the balcony, taking slow but large strides in a scathing mimicry of the way the nobility walked.
Joshua eyed Rennac critically before turning his attention back to her. He looked at her expressionlessly, as though waiting for her to explain.
When she remained silent, he sighed. "The ball is ending soon. Let's go back, shall we?" Without waiting for her consent, he took her hand and led her out of the ballroom, straight to their waiting horses. He even forgot to exchange the customary farewells with Ephraim and Tana.
She trudged into their common room, very much worn out by the evening's activities. She wanted little more than a warm bath, a soft bed and an uninterrupted sleep all the way till tomorrow noon.
"Wait," Joshua commanded. There was an angry edge to his voice.
She spun around, annoyed. She was tired and cold, and she wanted desperately to sleep. "Say it in the morning," she snapped, turning to leave.
He sprinted forward and wedged himself between her and the door. "No," he said solemnly. "I have questions, and I want the answers today, now."
"If you are asking about my dancing with Rennac, it wasn't like what you imagine it to be," she seethed. "Go away."
"No," he replied, grabbing the door handle tightly. "Do you know how improper it was for you to leave with a stranger like that? Do you know how scandalous it is to dance with another man in a private balcony?"
"Well," she retorted. "You seemed to be rather pre-occupied dancing with other ladies so we were certain you would not miss my presence."
"I'm doing what my position as a prince demands of me!" Joshua slammed his fist against the door.
"Well, then I too was doing what that was demanded of me," she argued. "I see no wrong in dancing with someone at a ball."
"It's not the dancing or the person that's wrong!" He threw his hands into the air in fury. "It's the fact that you disappeared with a stranger to somewhere private. Do you know how much gossip would be generated out of this?"
"He's not a stranger; he's a friend," she shot back. "Besides, I don't care what they say about me."
"Well, I care!" Joshua shouted. "Jehanna cares! Even if you are oblivious to the scandal you have caused, others don't have it so easy! How will the other countries view Jehanna? How do you expect me to walk amongst the other lords and princes with my head raised?"
His words shocked her. She was momentarily struck silent. She contemplated briefly, the thoughts clouding her mind. She listened to their deep and heavy breathing, both worn out from arguing.
"So it is about you," she mused, nodding her head. "It's always about you, about Jehanna. I dance with a friend, and I am betraying you, betraying Jehanna. You can dance with any girl you want, converse with any maiden you desire, and you are still acting on the interests of Jehanna." She nodded, cracking a bitter smile. "There's no point in arguing any further, is there? Whatever you do is right; I do the same, yet I am faulted for it."
"No, that's not what I meant," Joshua defended in frustration. "I just meant that-"
She took off her wedding ring in a silent fury, then walked over to the fireplace. Without hesitation, she threw it into the blazing fire. That completed, she walked over to him and, taking advantage of his shock and horror, pushed him aside and reached for the door handle.
She slammed the door in his face, locking it. "Double standards…" she muttered resignedly.
Forget the bath; forget the sleep. All she wanted to do now was to get out of this nightmare. A philandering husband, a dangerous predicament, a position she detested, separation from her friends…
She sighed. She was going to need a sleeping pill or two in order to sleep tonight.
Author's Note:
Woohoo! Their first major argument! Yeah! :D All lovely couples quarrel/misunderstand. Think TanaEphraim, JoshuaMarisa, EirikaSeth, InnesVanessa...WilRebecca, RavenLucius(XD), FarinaDart, HarkenIsadora etc etc etc.
Bored...going to write more. Going to post the next chapter very soon, hopefully.
Love ~ snowylavendermist