Disclaimer: check chapters one, two, or three.
Chapter Sixteen
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Daylight seeped gray through windowpanes and bony tree branches, hanging from a dull sky that sat so low that one could almost feel the pressure building up on their shoulders, tainting every breath that entered their lungs. A skeletal cold breath blew halfheartedly against the palace walls, smug in the knowledge that frost built up in hallway corners as fires feebly snapped short-lived sparks against the creeping chill.
Every movement a purpose within itself, Fiothiel determinedly pulled on her boots, a heavy wool cloak swinging heavily about her shoulders. No more weeping, no more worrying, no more pleas echoing in her ears. All of that foolishness was washed out of her, like a piece of cloth left too long exposed to the elements.
Or so it seemed.
Candles, shed not light when I walk by, for fear that someone will see the grief and terror hidden behind my eyes reflected tenfold.
Quietly composed, she exited, head held high and dignified, but trembling hands speaking of something buried deep within.
Unaware of someone who watched, someone unexpected.
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She shakes like an animal cornered, like a frozen leaf caught halfway in ice.
My heart thaws momentarily, remembering words she spoke so kindly to me, regarding me as an equal, as a friend.
But when I think of whom she is going to see, my thoughts turn icy so fast I can almost hear my mind crack from the cold.
Perhaps it will hurt him to see her so, cause him more pain before he will be snuffed out like a long-forgotten candle stub, because he is nothing to anyone anymore.
Killed just as the only one I ever loved was killed: mercilessly, routinely.
Just as I remember it, clear as the memory of my own body.
My reflection speaks my feelings as I cannot, as my lips curve up in a smile I have never seen before.
Hazel eyes glint, and I turn away.
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She stood now in the place she always tried so hard to avoid, for it marred her perfect vision of her home: a dark, dank, stone-walled prison that threw each contained whisper back as a shout, with stagnant vibrant-green moss cushioning otherwise unforgiving corners.
And the very person who had helped her take others into the same cell was curled up right in the middle of it, folded in on himself in a darkened corner. He looked pitifully up at the amplified sound of her footsteps, and the cruel shadows threw splatters of ink across his tortured expression. Fiothiel froze at the sight of him, and nodded to the silent guard who plodded softly up the stairs, the sound mirroring the slow pace of her heartbeat.
How can you not speak to the person who was once your confidant, to whom you let spill secrets never told twice? A simple thrust of a knife, twisted reasons cause prepared accusations to linger chillingly at the base of her tongue, unspoken.
Words would have swollen and burst, unable to contain the volumes of emotion that needed to be expressed.
He stood up slowly, watching as the gray outside light caught the twin mirrors of her eyes. She tried her best to appear forbidding, but the fury in her face subsided to one of dismay as she saw a tear leave a glimmering trail down his cheek, a diamond among pebbles.
"Your eyes," he muttered hoarsely, "your eyes are green. Mine, mine are brown."
Fiothiel was about to ask if he truly had lost his sanity when he banged his hand against the iron bars, setting loose a crash that ripped back even louder as the walls seemed to shake.
He spoke so quietly now that she unwittingly stepped closer, to hear his grating whisper.
"Beware eyes the color of honeyed tea, of dying leaves… they haunt me day and night, I never should have… should have told you before…"
"Told me what?" she spat back harshly. "Tell me now, before I run out of patience and leave you to your fate!"
He gripped the bars desperately, like two drowning swimmers cling to each other in desperation.
"Never trust… do not trust the hazel eyes."
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