i know, i love to have a character to hate...so it will be Pertia. i wont make elenia totally evil, cause shes still so young.
This chapter with stars etc was inspired by the dvorak's American string quartet, second movement. My quartet is learning it, and its so pretty.
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Selene watched as the Princess Ryth hesitantly made her way around the garden. "You seem to be gaining health, your Highness," she said, as the young woman tottered around the cobblestone path weakly.
She looked up and smiled, her dark hair gleaming in the near-dusk. "I hope so," she said cheerfully, reaching a small stone bench. Sitting with a sigh, she took the squirming baby from her quiet husband. "I do wish to be well again," she said wistfully. "These have been three long weeks."
"It was a hard labor, and quite a physical ordeal," the healer told the princess."Never fear, it shall be soon," Gathering up various wrappers and shawls, Selene smiled at the young woman, who grinned back. Bundling Ryth up warmly, she saw to it that both the princess and her husband were comfortably in their rooms before returning for her basket of draughts and salves.
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"Let's see," Selene muttered to herself. "I have the four original bottles, and the seventeen packets of herbs...where's the fever potion?" Shuffling through the handwoven basket, she searched fruitlessly through the medicines.
"Lost something?" the cruel voice of Pertia broke through the trees. She held up one hand, holding the small vial between her two fingers. Laughing, she retreated as Selene stood up.
"May I have it back, please?" the girl asked quietly, her rage under substantial control.
The woman cackled. "No," she taunted. "I do enjoy baiting you like this, it serves as entertainment." Pausing in exaggerated thought, she touched one finger to her chin. "It pleases me to see the daughter of the 'great duke' humbled by servitude."
Selene gritted her teeth. No, not again, she prayed. I don't think i can stand another moment like this. Refusing to look at the usurper, she kept her eyes trained to the ground.
"Great Duke indeed," Pertia scoffed. "Now I wield his power, and his precious daughter." She laughed again, the piercing noise sending shattering pain through Selene's mind. "He doted on you so, and that makes torturing you much more fun. And look at me while i speak." Selene's eyes misted over with tears of rage at the mention of her father.
The woman snatched up the kerchief, flinging it at Selene repeatedly until the girl put it on. "And what is this about you speaking with the Prince?" she asked, dropping the vial of fever drink on the pavement, stepping over the broken glass. "I don't want to hear about that again, Cinder Ella. It isn't becoming for a servant who oversteps their place." Gripping the girl's upper arm, twisting it tightly until she gasped with pain, she slowly turned Selene's face upward.
"And," a voice said behind Selene drawled, its tenor notes laced with anger, "It isn't becoming for a prominent noblewoman to torment a beholden servant, who is favored by the royal family for her skills." Corren smiled sardonically as Pertia stepped away from Selene so quickly she nearly stumbled.
"I may be young," he said clearly, when the astonished Pertia began to color with anger, "but i have respect for fellow human beings."
"Well, I never!" the woman exclaimed. "Good day, your Highness." Swishing her skirts, she practically ran away from the scene before she said something rash before the Heir.
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"Selene?" the boy whispered as he slowly slid over to her side. She shook her head, rubbing her sore arm.
"I hate her," she said passionately, as tears began to leak over her rosy cheeks. Tearing off the head scarf, she flung it to the ground and with a heartbroken sob. "Why can't she just leave me alone?"
Kneeling by her, the prince offered her a hankerchief. "Can I help?" he said quietly. He had never before realized...how hard life was for others. The gilded palace was a poor substitute for real life, especially the reality that the less fortunate bore.
Shaking her head, the girl sniffled twice before ending her crying. If he had just gotten there earlier, in time to intercept Pertia...Corren felt so guilty for letting her down. Through all their three weeks together, she had taught him so much about herbs, friendship, and life- and all he had to offer her the protection his rank permitted- yet he had let her down. Drawing the sorrowful girl into his arms, he held her tightly until her shoulders stopped shaking with tears. "Shh," he said, stroking her hair gently.
Wiping her eyes, Selene shook her head again. "Sorry," she muttered. "Shouldn't have broken down like this..."
"She's a witch!" the boy exclaimed, just about ready to slap Pertia for her cruelty. He ran his fingers though his long, dark hair, deeply agitated for his gentle friend's sake.
"But," Selene said softly, "she is in charge...but I wish she wouldn't speak so badly about my father...he was not agressive, that's true, but he was kindhearted and-" her words caught in her throat for a moment- "I miss him." She smiled, her eyes trained on the now darkened sky.
"When I was a little girl," she breathed, "Papa told me that each star in the sky was a jewel. And if I reached out my hand, I could catch the divine gems, and they would descend to my palm like Zeus to Danae." She held her hand aloft, seemingly cupping one bright star in her pale, slender palm. Turning to Corren, she grinned. "Do you know the story?"
"The princess locked in the tower," the prince replied. "To whom the Gods visited in her loneliness, falling down in a shower of golden light to meet her in divine marriage. Greek," he added with a smile.
Nodding, Selene continued, the starry sky reflected in her green eyes, wide and brilliant with sorrow and shimmering tears. "He told me that whenever I'm truly lonely, I could stretch out my arm and clasp a star. And that when I fell in love, it would settle around me like falling stars." She shook her head back and laughed sadly into the chilly night air, her golden hair settling around her shoulders with her movement. "He told me this when I was thirteen years old," she continued with a wry grin, "so this conversation was in the context of the future, specifically betrothal and marriage."
She paused for a long moment. "I never thought that someday, so soon, I would have to reach out to the sky alone. But now he's gone, and I still do this whenever I miss him the most." Her arm still outstretched, she sighed once and closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them again to regard the night sky solemnly.
Corren watched the girl, the reflection of the crescent moon and her starry attendants gleaming into her tear-brightened eyes. Her upturned face was sorrowful, reminiscing of much better times, and one or two pearl-like tears slipped from her long lashes to the ground. Turning back to him, Selene smiled, though her eyes were still overflowing with sadness.
Speaking softly, Corren took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the poignant story she had just told. His voice forceful with emotion, he took her yet outstretched hand in his. "Selene," he whispered, "He is still watching over you."
"I hope so," she replied with one last glance towards the deep blue sky. "Thank you," she said softly, squeezing his hand before releasing it. "For being my friend, and helping me..."
Standing up, she gathered her basket together. "Well," she sighed, "I must get back to work. And I think your sister is really getting better, in a week or so she should be back to normal."
He managed a laugh, still affected by her speech. "She needs to whip her husband back into shape, she's the spouse with more sense and assertiveness," he told his friend, "Without her, Jems is just a pale but amiable shadow on the wall."
"By the way," Selene asked, hefting her bundle. "Did you study Greek?"
He nodded sadly. "My tutor taught me," he said ruefully. "I enjoyed the myths, as you can see, for i remember them yet. But the language!" he moaned as they walked out of the garden. "It was torture..."
Her replying laugh faded off as they made their way through the trees and away from the small garden courtyard.
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copyright sorka robinton 2001