Reviewers:
Dylan – I'm getting there, see? And I love the whole butterscotch thing too. I thought it was cute.
Dreaming-of-a-Nightmare – Well, that's me in a nutshell. Artsy. XD I'm glad you like my fic! A new reviewer is always great to hear from.
Walking on Air
Chapter Fourteen
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The silly girl was grinning up at me like a loon. My shoulders slumped in both relief and disbelief. I found myself kneeling beside her, my hidden eyes free to make sure she was in one piece.
"Butterscotch. Really?" I quipped weakly. "Are you sure that bloody spell isn't still muddling your head?"
A hysterical little chortle escaped Hermia's lips before she slowly lowered herself all the way to the ground, the silk of her black dress crumpling as she rested her head on her arm. Her fatigue blanched her face, and she was taking deep, shaky breaths.
"You alright? You're not hurt, are you?" I repeated, my tense anxiety seeping into my voice. She exhaled loudly into the crook of her arm.
"A little too much excitement, I think," she muttered, not moving. "Just give me a minute." The scenario was so similar to the one in the pit at the Borderlands I almost laughed.
Somewhat reassured she wasn't mortally injured, I looked up and around to assess what all was going on. Helena was quietly talking to the Dark Queen, who was ashen under her mask and was leaning heavily on a tree stump. A few of the once-stone-now-paper soldiers were rapidly carrying some of their fallen comrades away from the seemingly sated sphinxes. The darkness in the sky that had almost been absolute was beginning to dissipate back into its original eerie shadowy orange. I looked back down at Hermia, whose eyes were closed and whose breathing was becoming steadier. An irrational feeling of protectiveness overwhelmed me as I hovered above her vulnerable form. I ground my teeth together.
You're not going to be able to deny it much longer, a small voice teased from the back of my head. My breath catching in my throat, I forced the voice back into silence. I coughed, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. I tore my eyes away from her as she opened hers to meet mine. Heat rose to my face, and again I was thankful I had both face paint and a mask.
"You're okay, too?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice. I smirked at her, covering my discomfort with jokes. Again.
"Besides hanging from my neck and subsequentially falling, bound and gagged, from said position? I'm fine," I said.
"Yeah, about that…" she muttered, levering herself slowly back up to a sitting position. I waved it off.
"Forget it. No permanent harm done," I told her, grinning. She grinned back, and then passed a hand over her face, sighing.
"Think we're getting out of here sooner or later?" she asked, looking over at her mother and her look-alike.
"I hope so," I muttered. "This place is creepier than a fish in water." Hermia shot me a baffled look, and then promptly burst into giggles. I sighed. "You are still tripping on the Queen's moon dust." That redoubled her laughter, leaving her gasping for air. "God, are you actually tearing up? Hey, Helena, I think we are going to have to carry your daughter back to the City of Light. She's going into hysterics." Chuckling myself, I turned back to Hermia, who was back on the ground, choking on her laughter into a corner of my robe. "Relax, you poor woman. I know it's hard to resist my devilish charms, but you're going to suffocate like that." The giggles, if anything, intensified. I sighed again in exasperation. "You do know that if the Queen had known my comedic nature would kill you, we could have skipped all this business with the Shadows and just let me work everything out." I smiled in spite of myself at her giddy condition. My hand impulsively went to stroke her shoulder, but I paused, suddenly afraid for some reason I didn't want to think about.
Oh, feed it to the Shadows, I growled in my head, continuing with my previous motion and hesitantly placed my hand on her trembling shoulder. The first thought that came to my mind was how soft her skin was, how delicately her bare shoulders were shaped. The second was the realization that Hermia was beautiful.
And the third thought that came to my mind was from that voice in the back of my head.
I told you so.
With a sharp intake of breath, I found Hermia's laughter subsiding, and her body rising back to face me. And my hand was still on her shoulder. A fading smile was on her lips, replaced by a burning curiosity in her hazel eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to move when every reasonable atom in my being told me I should.
"Hermia, there is work to do in the White City."
I took my hand away, a strange bitterness settling in my stomach. Helena's voice broke through the bubble of stillness I tried so hard to keep from breaking myself.
Hermia's mother approached us, throwing me a pointed glance before turning her attention towards her daughter.
"I think we need to talk about a few things," Helena said gently. "Including your new position, I believe. The Dark Queen is suddenly very cooperative about her hospitality. We are to be accommodated until we can make the journey back into the City of Light."
"Tower can always do that," I said suddenly. "I mean, why wait? You can stay in Tower while you two work on the city, and until the Palace is rebuilt and all that. Besides," I lowered my voice, "I'm not so sure if the Queen should be that trusted to keep that hospitality, eh? Better safe than in the hands of the politically corrupt, right?"
"Oh, in the hands of a double-con is any safer?" Helena retorted. I began to argue until I noticed that the venom wasn't really behind the jab. "I think it would be best to stay for a few days, just until Hermia and I can figure a few things out." I shrugged in acquiescence. "However…" She paused, as if evaluating what she would say next. Her hesitance intrigued me. I motioned her to continue. She sighed. "However, I believe it would take a while to rebuild the city. The Palace would be secondary to the homes and businesses destroyed by the Shadows. So…I think, if you would oblige us, it would work out quite well if we could stay in Tower until we finish rebuilding." She pressed her lips together, waiting for my reply. I slowly stood, pretending to think about it for a moment. Then I bowed extravagantly.
"What is an important man to do if not to extend his goodwill to those in need of it?" I asked, grinning. A seed of triumph implanted itself into my heart when a flicker of a smile ghosted Helena's lips. Well, it was a start.
"It's his reliability that worries me," she replied dryly. She then approached Hermia, kneeling down beside her. After a moment's hesitation, Helena threw her arms about her daughter and hugged her tightly. "You have no idea how proud I am of you, love," she murmured tearfully. "You are a brave young woman, and you'll be a wonderful leader."
Hermia laughed in her mother's embrace. "I had a lot of help," she replied quietly, looking over Helena's shoulder at me. I smiled weakly in embarrassment, shrugging at her.
"Well," Helena cleared her throat, pulling away. She helped Hermia to her feet. "Either way, you and I need to discuss some important details about your future." Hermia groaned.
"Why does this sound so familiar?" she muttered through her teeth.
"Don't worry, I'm not trying to force you to go to college again," Helena said, a small smile alighting her lips.
"Yeah, but you are going to be trying to force me to govern a city," Hermia replied. "Both involve me being kicked out of the house."
"Hermia," Helena said firmly, the mirth gone from her tone. "Look me in the eyes and tell me whether or not this is the right thing to do."
"I dunno, Mum. You kind of dropped it on my shoulders without me being able to think about it much."
"Do you really think you're not the right person to be the Queen of Light? Or do you have someone else in mind?"
"Well that's a bit of an incontestable argument, don't you think?" I told her. Part of my mind registered that I had taken a protective step towards Hermia. "Let it be her choice. This is her future you're talking about. She's the one who should be in control of it…for the important stuff anyway." Hermia shot me a small, but grateful smile. Helena pursed her lips together in annoyance, and then sighed with submission.
"Alright, then. Hermia, you have your two choices. You either leave this world and come back home to your old life at the circus, or you stay here the rest of your life at reign as Queen of Light. I can't promise you happiness in either choice," Helena warned. "You have to guess at that."
It was that moment that I realized that Hermia could be leaving me—er, I meant this world—forever. The feeling that realization left me with was the bizarre sensation of mild panic. Part of me felt that this was a bit inappropriate for the situation at hand. Sadness would be a bit more reasonable, but panic?
Hermia looked at me for a moment with a flick of her eyes, but passed a hand over her face, hiding the action.
"I would be able to come back to this world, right? If I choose to go back home?" she said slowly.
"Only in your dreams, love," Helena said. "I'm going to destroy the Mirrormask as soon as I get back home. No more creations. As soon as everything is in order, I'm retiring from being Creator."
"What?" I gaped in disbelief. She smiled at me grimly.
"It took a while for me to warm up to the idea, but in that dungeon I promised myself that if, by some act of providence, we were able to escape with our lives, I would relinquish my station as Creator. I think it's time for this world to create on its own, for the people to make their choices without me as judge and jury and all that."
"Then who will keep everything from going into chaos?" Hermia said.
"Why, the two Queens, of course," Helena told her. "The power of the Mirrormask has to be dispersed somewhere."
"So, either way, I'll never be able to see you or Dad again, or I'll never see Val—the, erm, this world again."
"It's not quite that absolute," Helena said gently. "I'm sure I can coax your father into trusting his dreams of you."
"But…the circus…" A heart-wrenching note of longing lodged itself into Hermia's voice. Helena hesitated, unable to contribute a comfort to her daughter regarding her love of the high wire.
"Again, Hermia, it's your choice," Helena said, eyes soft with sympathy. Hermia then turned her gaze at me, and my stomach twisted at her pained indecision. She sat back down on the ground.
"Give me a minute," she said, placing her head in her hands. Helena and I reluctantly left Hermia to her thoughts, walking toward the abandoned pavilion. It looked like Anti-Helena had gone back into the palace with her guards.
As soon as we were well out of earshot, Helena turned to me.
"You want her to stay!" she hissed accusingly, prodding me in the chest.
"So what? So do you!" I snapped back. I rubbed the spot she poked on my chest, frowning. "Besides, there's no other candidate for the throne, isn't there? So she really doesn't have a choice."
"You hypocrite!" Helena said, laughing coldly. "Then what, may I ask, was that load of bollocks you were going on about with the 'control over her own future' and all?"
"You had her in a corner! With all that you were telling her, she believed she had no choice at all. At least now she can weigh both options without that kind of thing looming over her head," I told her, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
"Very well, at least she has that," she stated, irritated.
The two of us stood in silence, watching Hermia for any changes. She was still sitting there, her hands covering her face in concentration. Helena sighed.
"I'm not stupid, you know," she said softly. I looked at her, puzzled. She gestured wearily towards her daughter. "Hermia's fond of you. A senile Mask Shop lady could have deduced that. And I can tell you're not as indifferent towards her as you think you should be." I opened my mouth in protest, but she raised a hand to silence me. "I was wrong, Valentine. You have changed. In precious few ways, but nevertheless, you have changed. And for that I might be a tad more lenient if certain circumstances arise."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Liar.
"Of course." She was about as convinced as I was. "Well, whatever her choice, I just want to be sure that she will be happy."
"That makes the two of us," I muttered, only partially surprised to find that it was the truth.
What the hell was happening to me? Where is the old selfish, cowardly Valentine I had such confidence and comfort in? Why did my heart feel like it was throbbing with some strange kind of pleasurable pain? Why is it, looking at her now, a part of me is screaming to take Hermia's hands off of her face so I can see those disturbing, perceptive, curious, beautiful eyes? Why do I feel like a piece of me will die if she leaves?
And why the hell would I prefer Hermia to be happy, even if I know it could cause me pain if she's gone?
You're almost there, that damned voice in the back of my head snickered. In my strange panic, I shoved it, smothered it, deathly afraid of what was happening to me.
It was then that I saw Hermia's hands leave her face. I watched her stand and walk towards the two of us, her fiercely resolute decision carved deeply into those enchanting eyes.
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It occurred to me, in a very off-hand sort of way, that a coronation in this day and age is a very rare thing.
It also occurred to me, as I readied myself for the grueling two-hour process, this was probably due to the simple bloody length of the damn thing.
So there I was, alone in the corridor in my crystalline dress and the weight that went with it. Hands shaking slightly, I adjusted my pinned-up hair again for the thousandth time. It took them hours to get my stubbornly straight, thin hair into those pretty, wispy little spirals. I was never one for exhausting my time on being prettied up, but I had to admit, I did look fairly decent.
The dress, too, was quite complimentary to my tall, boyish frame. Mum told me it had been sewn by the spider-women who lived in the Diamond Caves up in the north. I laughed at her, of course, thinking she was teasing me again about my ignorance of the Mirror World. But I stopped laughing when an eight-legged, eight-eyed, blond-haired seamstress came into the palace to hem the dress a week before the coronation. I had to hand it to them, though; the dress was exquisite. If it wasn't so weighed down by the thousands of pearl-like diamonds, the fabric itself would be light as air and softer than silk.
I adjusted the white mask over my eyes before bringing my hands back to my side, satisfied that my hair hadn't fallen into tatters yet by my impatient pacing. Thousands of scenarios in which I would botch up the entire ceremony passed through my mind in the time I waited as the mass of guests from both the City of Light and the Land of Shadows gathered in their seats.
Ever since the whole Land of Shadows fiasco, the Dark Queen and I started a civil, but still uneasy relationship. Over the next few months when Mum and I were rebuilding the city, Anti-Helena offered help through borrowed soldiers.
By the way, I eventually did turn the paper soldiers back into their old stone selves. The Queen was quite pleased about that.
Once the city was, physically, back on its feet, the citizens of the City of Light came back in with a promise of stability through a new Queen. That's when things got political, of course. Hours upon hours of dignitary meetings and diplomatic conventions and exhausting things like that. And I wasn't even Queen yet.
Anxious to see if the ceremony had even started, I pressed my ear against the huge oak doors separating me from the gargantuan auditorium where similar important matters of state would be occurring after this coronation. Oh yeah, and it's where my throne was. It took me all those months in pre-royalty training, and hyperventilation, to accept the fact that I was to be a queen and I was still having cold feet about it.
The guests were settled now. The Prime Minister, who I had only recently found out was the Mirror-World version of my grandfather, was beginning the preceding of the ceremony, speaking of the momentous occasion that was upon us, the great reign of our previous Queen, etc. etc. The well-rehearsed speech did nothing to calm my nerves. It only frazzled them more to be reminded that I had to speak just as eloquently when I repeated my vows as Queen of Light. I didn't have to memorize anything at least. Thank god. As if I didn't have to worry about tripping over the hem of my dress, or stuttering, or coming down with a severe case of stage fright for the first time in my life.
Finally those dreaded words;
"And now, revered guests, may I present to you, your chosen Queen; Her Majesty, the esteemed Hermia Bagwell."
The huge oak doors swung open, and the blinding light cleanly wiped away any coherent thought from my mind. A tight ball of panic lodged itself in my throat. I forced my legs to move in time with the music trumpeting over the sound of a thousand people getting to their feet. I tried to keep my breath level, trying to get myself to imagine that I was just about to perform on the high wire, a place where I felt totally in control. It helped, but only a little. I hardly knew any of these faces staring at me. I wished I could hurry to the front, where my mother and the Prime Minister was standing, but I had to wait those agonizing moments to walk down the carpeted aisle correctly.
It was near the front of the auditorium—I was almost there!—when I tripped on the hem of my dress. Time seemed to slow as the weight of my dress seemed positive that I would fall to the ground. I held my breath to await the impact.
But in the split second that I had lost my balance, someone grabbed my left arm, steadying me. Eyes wide with shock, I looked to see who my rescuer had been.
A curious pool of calming warmth spread through my chest when I saw that familiar smirk and that purpled-striped mask. Valentine, in an uncharacteristically dashing vest and trousers and a characteristically garish hat, leaned over to my ear.
"You might want to watch your step," he muttered cheerfully before gently patting my arm and releasing me. A surge of renewed confidence came to me, and I gave him a brief smile of thanks before continuing down the hall up the steps to the throne.
The rest of the ceremony went by uneventfully, save the fact I was officially crowned Queen of the City of Light, of course. After the crowd dispersed to celebrate at various sites, I was ushered back into my new room, the old Queen's bedroom, to be changed out of my official dress and robe and the ermine-lined, jeweled crown, and into a more practical, lighter gown and simple, silver circlet.
There was to be a more official party in the palace ballroom, where I would be presented to certain important members of state on both sides of the world. Mum was there the whole time, giving me words of praise and encouragement as my ladies in waiting fussed over my hair again.
All in all, the process was quite chaotic.
Finally, once I was ready I was escorted to the ballroom, were there was more ceremony and bowing and speeches. I was ravenous, hardly listening to the proceedings as I concentrated on the fact that the banquet would soon be served. Across the ballroom, I caught Val's eye, and knew he was suffering about as much as I was.
Eventually, the formalities ceased and we were allowed to eat and socialize as we pleased. After putting up with a few ladder-climbers and insufferably pompous heads of state, I was relieved to find my dreadfully boring conversation with the Chairman of Business interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.
"May I steal her Majesty for a moment?" Valentine interjected. I flashed him a grateful grin for the second time today.
"If her Majesty wishes," the thin-lipped Chairman replied icily, obviously irritated that a man without rank would dare to interrupt his conversation with the Queen.
"My Majesty does," I stated with a cool smile. The Chairman, fighting a frown, bowed stiffly and walked away.
"Let's go to the terrace," Val suggested loftily. "You should thank me for interjecting. He seemed like he could talk about the inflation rate of turnips for hours." I laughed, taking his proffered arm. We walked out to the brightly lit terrace looking out over the City. Fireworks exploded in the distance and various sounds of rowdier celebrations were a lot louder outside.
Valentine withdrew his arm and leaned on the rail. He was wearing the same outfit he had on during the coronation. He had on a light green vest over a loose beige tunic and black trousers tucked into a new pair of black leather boots. His hat, of course, nearly ruined the whole effect simply by its extravagance. It was ridiculously broad-rimmed and the same shade of green as his vest, with a large, bright peacock feather drooping down the back.
Val noticed me examining his outfit and groaned.
"Your mother insisted that I not wear my usual clothes to your coronation," he told me wryly. "It took me forever to convince her to let me at least wear this." He took the hat off of his head and brushed it off fondly before tossing it to the side.
"It is an eye-catcher," I said with a sardonic grin.
"So was that crown of yours," he replied. "Good god, how much did that weigh? With all of those stones, it looked like it would crush your skull."
"It wasn't as heavy as that dress," I told him. "By the way, I didn't have a chance to thank you for saving me from a very embarrassing fall."
"Don't expect me to be there every time you accidentally trip over a diamond-studded gown," he said. "You know, someone could think you were about to be fed to the Shadows the way you were walking up there."
"The pressure was immense, as you can imagine," I said. "Bloody hell, I was nervous. I don't think I could be so nervous again, even if I was to get married."
"Really?" Valentine said with an odd sort of discomfort in his voice. The two of us fell into silence, leaning side by side on the railing, watching the dozens of fireworks dazzling the night sky in the distance.
"I have a washer waiting for me outside the gates," Valentine suddenly said quietly.
"Oh? You're leaving so early?" I said, turning my head to look at him. He had his head down.
"Erm, yeah," he said. "Well, you see, Tower and I…I'm…we are going away for a while." My brow knitted together.
"A while?"
"Yeah. You see, I've been thinking, and I think it would be good for me to expand my horizons. Find new things to do, as it were. I don't have much of a steady job, and I want to, you know. See what's out there."
Valentine? Leaving? No, that's not right.
The tight knot in my throat returned, making my heart pound against my ribs.
"Why not stay here, though? I'm sure I can find you a job in the palace somewhere," I said, keeping my voice even. I forced a smile on my face. "You can be my jester." Valentine looked at me with a wry grin on his face.
"I," he said, crossing his arms, "am not going to be your jester."
"I didn't think so," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "So, you…ah, you want to leave."
"Well, you know, I'm pretty tired of the city. There'll be a whole lot of new things that'll pop up once the Creator's gone. I want to see what I can do with that kind of freedom."
"What are you thinking of doing?" I asked. A dead weight had suddenly dropped into my stomach.
"I'll be juggling, as per usual. Maybe a bit of card tricks here and there. I might try to find meself a partner in crime. I haven't had one in years, and I've only had two. Bing and…Laverna, actually."
"Really? Laverna?"
"Yeah. But our, ah, arrangement ended when she sabotaged my act," Val told me. "I was going to be juggling fire batons at this new place. Blackbug Circle, it was. Laverna told me that they never saw a juggler juggle fire before. Something new that would raise our profit, right? Well, I let her handle setting things up for the show. Everything was going fine. Crowd was a bit dull, but…well, then I brought out the fire batons." I noticed he was unconsciously clenching his fists.
"I knew she liked to make bets with the crowd. She did at every show, bringing in the extra money because she could pretend to be one of them. She and I made arrangements so that she would never lose. So there you are. I'm a cheat, not a thief." He laughed dryly. "Anyway, little did I know that that night she put in money guaranteeing I would burn myself. Of course, everyone already saw how good I was, so she made a tidy profit by the end of the night." Valentine shrugged with a grim smile on his face. "I was stupid, naïve. Laverna conveniently forgot to put flame retardant on the handles."
He reached out his hands to me. Flicking my eyes to his face, I gently took them in my own hands, examining them. For the first time, I noticed the faded scar tissue there on his palms. A sort of cold shock prevented me from tearing my eyes away.
"I told myself I should have bought those metal ones," he muttered. The image of those scorched batons with the engraved snakes rose to my memory. After a moment, I slowly reached own to my ankle, pulling out the knife I kept there. Mum insisted that I carry it after a long lecture on assassins and the overall danger of being Queen. Wordlessly I placed it into Valentine's scarred palm. He looked it over, then ran his fingers over the snake engraved on the handle.
"Who made this?" he asked. A small frown adorned his lips.
"I did," I replied, sheepish. "It's the knife I used to cut the noose from your neck."
"How did you know about my…" His mouth dropped in realization. "Tower let you in my room! I told her! I told her not to! When I get back…" With a frustrated groan, he hid his face in his hands. "'S'so embarrassing…"
"Oh, Val. No it's not," I said, smiling slightly. "It was interesting. I…I got to see the man behind the mask."
"Oh yeah? And what was he like?" he said slowly, removing his hands from his face.
"Terribly messy, for one," I teased." But all men are like that, I suppose. But also mysterious."
"Mysterious, eh?" Valentine smirked, his mood lifting. "What kind of mysterious?"
"The 'masked man with a past' kind of mysterious," I told him with a straight face, poking him in the arm.
"I think I like that. Very Zorro." I rolled my eyes. He gagged in mock disgust.
"Oh, come on. It can't bother you any more, can it?"
"Even with that lovely mask, you still don't look like you have a proper face," he said, falsely indignant. I harrumphed, taking the silk-covered mask off of my face. Valentine looked at me with a weird expression.
"What?" I asked, self-conscious.
"Oh, nothing…er, you look better without the mask. I mean…" He paused, looking uncomfortable. "What's the point if I still see your eyes, right?" The excuse seemed half-assed.
"Is there something wrong with my eyes?" I demanded.
"No, of course not!" he stuttered out. "They're beautiful, it's that…" Valentine seemed to freeze, like he had said something he didn't mean to say.
"You think my eyes are…beautiful?" I wheedled, my lips pulling into a teasing smirk. A stream of incoherent objections came out of Valentine's mouth, along with some defensive flailing of the arms. I laughed, and placed a restraining hand on his mouth.
"I think that was a yes or no kind of question," I said, a small part of me quivering with a giddy kind of emotion. I removed my hand, trying to put on a calm air as I watched Valentine turn back to the railing, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar uncomfortable gesture.
"Alright. Yes. When you're not contorting them," he said quickly, shoulders hunched. He still wasn't looking at me.
"Fair enough," I replied, going back to watching the fireworks. I sighed. I didn't want to bring up the subject again, but I wanted to drop a few more hints for Valentine to consider before he left. "You know, Valentine…" I trailed off.
"What?" he asked. I could sense his discomfort easing. I chewed my lip for a moment, thinking.
"I have to admit…things around aren't going to be as…exciting with you gone," I said, my voice soft. I think Valentine heard the sadness behind the smile, because he tried to pat me on the arm reassuringly.
"You'll get into plenty of mishaps while I'm away, I'm sure," he told me.
"I might try to fall on my face again at important meetings," I warned him.
"You're pretty good at taking care of yourself," he said, shrugging. "But do be careful about those kinds of things. You do tend to end up on the ground in critical situations." I smiled slightly.
"I won't have anyone to talk to," I argued. How many excuses can you come up with, Hermia? You know he's not going to change his mind just on a silly woman's whim.
"I don't think you'll have much trouble with that," Valentine replied, although I thought I heard some sort of reluctance in his tone.
"Valentine…" I sighed, giving up. I leaned my elbow on the rail, resting my chin on it. I tried to keep the panic I knew was boiling in my stomach covered with irritation as not to alarm Val. It just wouldn't do to have him think I couldn't mentally handle him leaving without hyperventilating. I can let that happen later. Preferably in private.
It took me a second to notice Valentine leaning sideways, trying to see my face. A concerned frown indicated his slight perception of my inner turmoil.
"You don't want me to go," he said finally, a note of sadness in his voice. That nearly did me in. I leaned back, wrapping my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself together. I couldn't let these feelings control me. I need to let him…them go before they started tearing my up from the inside out.
"No," I breathed, fighting to bring back a countenance of calm. I saw a movement from the corner of my eye, but I didn't register what it was until I felt a warm hand on my cheek. With a sharp intake of breath, I looked at Valentine. His fingers lightly brushed my jaw line, his thumb resting on my cheekbone.
I wish I could see his eyes.
His breath moved the wisps of hair that had dislodged themselves from their pins, he was so close to me.
With a short hesitation, I leaned in towards him.
"Hermia! Hermia, where are you?" my mother's voice ghosted towards us from inside the ballroom. Valentine had already pulled away when Mum came out onto the terrace. A bitter taste rose in the back of my mouth. "There you are! I'm sorry, dear, but you have so many guests still clamoring to talk to you. Don't give me that look. You can retire soon, I promise."
"I'll be there in a minute," I told her, my voice flat.
Her eyes flitted from me to Valentine and back again. A knowing look passed across her face. "I'll be waiting with the Chairman of Foreign Affairs," she said. She left the terrace. My shoulders went slack. I couldn't bear to look at Valentine.
"Hermia…" His voice cracked, and my breath hitched. My arms went back to cross my chest, restraining the flood that would pour out if I didn't try.
"When are you going to be back?" I asked, my voice carefully still.
"When I can," he said quietly. I paused at the indecision in his voice.
"Are you going to be back?"
Silence. Then he sighed. I looked up at him, fear like acid in my stomach. He smiled uncertainly.
"I will. Trust me," Valentine said. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and smiled back at him, unsure of myself.
"Alright," I said, looking back out at the night sky. Fish drifted lazily among the smoky stars in the distance. "Are you leaving now?"
"I probably should be going," he answered. I took a deep, silent breath and turned to him. I readied myself to say goodbye, dread lodged with the panic in my stomach,
Then Valentine took my shoulders, and pulled me into a desperate, crushing embrace. Involuntarily, a dry sob escaped my mouth, but I still kept the tears locked in my chest, burning my throat. I pulled my arms from their crossed position and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him closer. I buried my face into his shoulder, trying to memorize the smell of butterscotch that was so familiar, that was so incredibly Valentine.
Eventually it was me who pulled away. I tried to keep my breathing steady.
Valentine took my hand, squeezed it gently, and quietly left.
I stay out in the terrace for a few more minutes, arms again wrapped across my chest, trying to keep it from splintering from the hole that was left.
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"The bloody Queen of Light.
"I mean, I'm sure she'll be fine. Hell, maybe she'll forget all about me while I'm gone. She'll be so busy with all that queenly business, she won't have the time to think about me. It's probably for the best.
"It's normal for me to be worried about her, right? She looked like she was going to rip at the seams when I left…" I slammed a fist into the metal of the washer. "I should have just said goodbye! Why the bloody hell did I linger like that? Why couldn't I just keep my distance? It would have been better letting her off easy, without the idea that I might…care about her. That would have been the selfless way to get around to leaving, right? Right?"
The driver only shrugged, and then held out his hand. I sighed, and handed the man a few coins before hopping off the washer and heading toward Tower, who was waiting at the outskirts of the city.
'Sounds like there was quite a party,' she said as I glumly entered the front door. 'Wish I was invited…' I didn't answer her. That irritated her enough. 'She was wearing a white dress, wasn't she?' she commented snidely.
"Shut up, Tower," I muttered, climbing the staircase to the navigation room. "Now's not the time."
'You told her, didn't you?' Tower said, this time a little more sympathetic. I winced.
"I told her I was leaving," I said. Was my voice really as dead as it sounded?
'That's all? I thought you were going to tell her you lov—'
"That's enough, Tower," I snapped.
I reached the navigation room, and crossed it to head towards the window. I looked out over the city, towards the White Palace gleaming like a crystalline jewel in the center.
'Where to, then, Valentine?' Tower asked.
"Blackbug Circle."
The memory of that botched performance was pushed aside, only to be replaced by Hermia's pale face. But it wasn't the way she smiled at me when I caught her at the coronation, or how she looked when I made her laugh. What was branded in my memory were her clear, wounded eyes that I had admitted aloud were beautiful.
And I didn't even have the guts to tell her how much it killed me to see them like that.
"I am such a cowardly bastard," I whispered to myself, slowly lowering myself onto a leather armchair as Tower leapt into flight, the City of Light falling farther and farther away.
I had to come back for her. I just hoped she could trust me more than I trusted myself.
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Author's Note: Guess what?
ONE MORE FRIGGIN CHAPTER!!