Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.
**PLEASE SEE RIDICULOUSLY LONG A/N AT THE BOTTOM FOR THE POSTING SCHEDULE FOR THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS!**
Chapter 15
I grasp the handle and pull, cracking the door open just enough to meet the eyes of the guard posted outside my chambers.
"Is there something you need, Your Highness?"
I clear my throat and try to calm my nerves. "It seems to be a bit chillier than anticipated, and I appear to be running low on firewood. Could you perhaps see to bringing me more?"
Indecision shines in his eyes, knowing full well he is not supposed to leave his post. "My Lady, I am not supposed to—"
"The sun has not even risen. I do not plan to leave my chambers for quite a while. I assure you I will be more than safe long enough for you to seek out a bundle of logs." I force a pleasant smile and hope for the best.
He hesitates but finally relents. "Of course, My Lady. I should not be long."
"Take your time," I call after his retreating form.
Once he disappears from sight, I slip out through my door. My footsteps are light as I navigate the still darkened corridors, my meager collection of supplies held tightly to my chest so as not to make a sound. The many layers I wear, topped with Edward's cloak, are more than a little warm, and sweat begins to bead on my skin. I am able to evade the guards, some of them sleeping, many others distracted by conversations meant to keep them alert at this hour.
I conceal myself in hidden recesses along my path, careful not to alert anyone to my presence. More than once I take a wrong turn, but eventually, I find my way outside. The pre-dawn sky is just beginning to light as the sun rises. I look up and see threatening clouds but pay little mind to them as I head toward my destination.
The courtyard is beginning to fill with workers at this hour, so I keep my hood up over my head and keep my eyes to the ground as I trek toward the stables. Once inside, I'm greeted by the soft nickers and sighs of the beasts who reside within. The only other sound is the deep snore of the night guard. He is seated at the other end of the building, smaller in stature, wiry and thin, and I deduce it is not Emmett. The empty, tipped-over tankard at his feet tell me he spent his night more than a little into his cups, which will serve me well. If it were my husband's cousin, I know he would put a stop to what I have planned.
Moondancer whinnies as I approach her stall. I turn at the sound of an especially loud snore, worried she's woken the guard. But all is well as he merely shifts his position, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his head against the wall behind him.
"Shh," I whisper as I stroke her muzzle, and she calms at my touch. "That's a good girl. Will you help me? Hmm? Will you help me find him?"
Once she has stopped shifting from foot to foot, I know it is safe to open the gate to her stall. I enter and lead her out, toward the blankets and saddles at the far end of the stable, far away from the snoring guard.
My inexperience with saddling a horse is obvious, and I am glad I do not have an audience. But I eventually manage to secure the saddle and tie my supplies to it. Since I have always had assistance in mounting a horse, it takes several tries before I am successful. I take the reins in my hands and guide Moondancer out of the stable toward the castle's outer gate.
At this hour, people are coming or going through the gates, either leaving from or arriving for their duties at the castle. I keep my head down and walk behind a merchant pulling a wagon, likely leaving after delivering a load of supplies.
None of the guards notice me or recognize my horse as I pass, and a rush of relief comes over me once I make it past the second gate. I kick Moondancer into a trot once we reach the road and head in the direction of the outlying villagers' homes. The air is more frigid than I expected, and I pull my cloak tighter around myself.
At this hour, most of the villagers who work the fields and tend to their animals are still tucked away in their homes. With the harvest already brought in, the need to work the land is not as urgent, and they are taking a well-deserved break. It is my good fortune no one is out to watch me head south, slipping away into the forest.
The sun tries to shine through the clouds, giving what little warmth it can, but it is still incredibly cold. My gloved hands grip the reins, and my cloak and many layers are keeping me warm, but I now have a different concern; I had not anticipated how difficult this would be on my own. Having only a vague idea of where I am going will also be a problem. Beyond knowing I need to head south, I am relying on landmarks and the well-traveled road to take me at least as far as our destroyed camp. My hope is that I will find Jasper or one of his men along the way.
I have been riding for hours, using the scant sunlight struggling to break through the thickening grey overhead to guide me. With only my horse to speak to, I fear by the time I reach my undetermined destination I will have gone mad.
I begin to question the wisdom of my plan.
"Tell me this is still a good idea, girl," I foolishly say to my horse. Her snort of disapproval tells me all I need to know. She must also think this is madness.
Still, I press on, trusting each step we take gets me closer to my husband. I try not to think of just how long it will take me to reach him or find any clues to where he is being held. But I could not sit and idly wait another moment for someone else to act. Each day that passes is another day he could be harmed ... or worse.
I am sure by now at least Angela realizes I am gone, so I quicken my pace. It likely wouldn't take long for one of the king's men to find me, if he cared enough to send someone after me, that is.
A fork in the road gives me pause. At first glance, they both appear to go south, but I am unsure which one I should take. I close my eyes and silently plead with the Gods to help me choose the one that will lead me to Edward. When I open them, a single beam of sunlight shines through the boughs of the trees, illuminating the path on the right. I take it as a sign and pull Moondancer's reins, quickly saying a prayer of thanks to the Gods for their guidance.
It is not long after that snow begins to fall. It quickly turns from sparse flakes to a curtain of white. The wet and cold seep into my cloak and through the many layers I wear, chilling me to the bone, and I realize what a horrible mistake I've made. Between the snow and the tears filling my eyes, the path disappears from before me.
I raise my face to the sky, the snow forcing me to keep my eyes closed. "Is this a sign?" I yell toward the grey clouds overhead. "Are you trying to tell me something?"
Defeat settles in me, and all the bravado and determination I had mere hours ago is gone.
"I am sorry, girl." I bury my face in Moondancer's mane, my arms around her neck as remorse fills me. "What should we do? Do we go back?"
Her reply is a deep sigh. Wiping my eyes and heaving a sigh of my own, I pull on her reins, turning us around, but when I do, I grasp how difficult it will be to find our way back. The snow has covered the path behind us, concealing our way back to Masenthorne Castle.
Panic swells in my belly as fear creeps up my spine. Without knowing our way back, being lost to the storm is a very real possibility. Knowing I am running out of time, the snow only getting deeper, I kick Moondancer first into a trot and then a gallop, my head lowered to block the rush of snow against my face.
I raise my eyes several times, hoping we are still going the right way, but nothing we pass looks familiar. Disoriented and shivering, I give up trying to guide my horse and depend on her instincts to lead us. I can only pray we are on the correct path home.
With each stride of Moondancer's legs, I grow colder and colder, and my body stiffens, leaving me unable to hold tightly to the reins. It is almost an out of body experience when I feel myself slip from the saddle. My limbs are too sluggish to react and stop my fall, and I land in an already formed drift with a muted thump.
My lids flutter open against the falling snow, and I watch my horse gallop a short distance before coming to a stop, probably sensing she's lost her passenger. She trots back to my side and hovers protectively over me. I reach out, running my hand over her soft nose when she bends down to check on me.
"It's all right, girl. I just need a moment," I mumble, suddenly sleepy.
She snorts in reply but does not move away. Peaceful quiet surrounds me as the flakes fall, the immediate stillness causing my eyes to close of their own volition. A voice, loud and strong, breaks through the silence and calls out my name. I fight against the urge to let sleep claim me, but it is difficult. And when a dark, hulking figure comes into view, I believe myself to already be dreaming.
"Oh, thank the Gods," the figure murmurs as he comes close, dismounting his own horse and lifting me from the snow-covered ground. "What were you thinking?" he asks, wasting no time as he lifts us both into his saddle. The voice is familiar, comforting.
"Emmett?" I ask, unsure if I can trust my own ears.
"What were you thinking, Isabella?" I know he is angry, but I cannot bring myself to answer him.
"I'm so cold," I whisper, closing my eyes and allowing sleep to finally claim me.
Whispers filter through my subconscious as I drift from sleep to brief moments of wakefulness.
"How long has it been since she last stirred?"
"A few hours perhaps."
"Did she say anything this time?"
"Just more mumbling about not wanting to go back to Adwen."
Sleep is a heavy blanket I cannot seem to shake, and no good reason to fight it comes to mind. In brief moments of alertness, I hear people file in and out of my chambers. I go from feeling bone-deep, icy chills that send me into fits of shivering to blazing heat that leaves me restless and damp with sweat. My bedchamber fills with light, and it turns dark just as often. I am jostled and made to drink water and broth, but my stomach revolts nearly every time, and I bring up everything I manage to swallow.
Those around me continue to whisper, and by the tone of their hushed words, I know they are unhappy with me. I am unhappy with myself. As my consciousness fully returns, I realize what I have done, and the weight of my actions begins to settle upon me.
My foolish decision to run off at first light could have gotten me killed.
"You should try and eat something, My Lady." Angela's soft but pointed words come from the corner of the room, and I merely groan in response. "You need to regain some of your strength. You have duties to attend to, and I cannot keep you hidden away in your chambers much longer."
"No," I rasp as I close my eyes tightly, ignoring the heavy sigh from my friend. Disheartened, I drift back to the safety of sleep.
The next time light fills my bedchamber, my eyes blink open of their own accord. The curtains around my bed have all been pulled open, and the shutters are wide, allowing the warm afternoon sunlight through the window.
At first, I do not move; keeping my eyes open is a feat in itself. I take inventory of my body. I am listless, my muscles weak, and it is evident the aches and soreness are from lying abed so long.
"You gave us all a scare, Your Highness." My gaze lands on Rosalie as she sits in a chair near my bed. "But I'm not sure if you fully comprehend how serious your stunt was."
"I know," I whisper.
"Do you? Do you realize my husband had to chase after you in a snowstorm with no idea where you'd gone? Have you any idea how dangerous that was? How much danger you put him in? Not to mention the guards who let you pass. I'm not sure I've ever seen Emmett in such a rage."
"I am sorry."
"I am sure you are." Moments of silence pass, but her eyes never leave mine. "The king and queen have been asking after you, wondering why you've not been back to court the last four days."
"Four days?" My eyes widen in surprise. "I've been asleep for four days?"
"Nearly. The first was the day you disappeared. You fought a fever from being exposed to the cold for the next two, and you've only now truly awoken. We've been able to keep the questions at bay by telling them you've been ill, which, with the fever, is the truth. They just do not know why you were fighting a fever. From what we can tell, they've not heard about what you did. I am not sure how Carlisle would react to hearing you'd run away, especially in his current state of mind."
I close my eyes and swallow down the guilt of my actions. "I am sorry, Rosalie, for putting your husband in danger. And I am sorry for putting you in the position I have, needing to lie to the king and queen." I shake my head. "It will not happen again."
"Why did you do it at all?"
I cannot meet her steely gaze any longer and curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself. "I needed to do something, Rosalie. I could not just sit by and wait any longer. I've grown tired of waiting on the king. Edward is out there somewhere, and his father is in no rush to send his men to find him. Each day he is gone is one more day he may be harmed, and I cannot abide that," I say softly.
"Still, you should have waited, Isabella. The king may not have blindly sent off his men into the night, but he will act when it is time. You must be patient."
"I did not feel like I had the luxury of time to wait on him," I admit.
"And why is that?"
I lift my eyes to hers. "He is unhappy with me," I whisper.
"The king?" she asks, surprised.
I nod.
"And why do you think he is unhappy with you?"
I shake my head, unwilling to tell her the king plans to send me away if his son does not return.
When I say nothing more, Rosalie quickly grows impatient. "Well, I am glad to see you are well, Your Highness," she says as she stands, her formal address making me uncomfortable; I know she is not pleased with me. "I will be sure to inform the queen the next time she inquires that you are well and should soon be back at court." She lowers herself into a curtsy and sees herself out.
I spend the rest of the day staring into the flames in the hearth, sipping on the broth Angela has brought, the guilt continuing to eat away at me. I wish I had never attempted to find Edward on my own. The only things I have successfully done is upset one of my only friends, make myself sick, and possibly further upset the king.
Even with the guilt hanging over my head, I try not to shrink back under Carlisle's scrutiny when I make my next appearance at court the following week. After hearing about the fever I suffered, the queen relentlessly asks after my health, worried for my well-being. I reassure her I am well, perhaps a little sluggish, but otherwise unaffected. What I do not tell her is the weak stomach I suffered while recovering has not abated. Nearly every morning I wake feeling sick. Angela tells me it will pass, but she has been keeping a closer eye on me. And judging by the curious stares Alice gives me, she seems to have enlisted help.
Once everyone is dismissed, I am walking through the throne room toward the doors when I see Emmett.
"Sir McCarty," I say, surprised. "Has our king allowed you to leave your post in the stables?" I ask lightheartedly, attempting to soften his hardened countenance.
Rosalie steps to his side and loops her arm through his, her expression unreadable, and still, Emmett does not speak.
I clear my throat. "I feel I must apologize to you, sir. I never meant to put you or anyone else in danger."
He stares at me for a moment, his irritation obvious as he stares at me through narrowed eyes. "Is that what you believe I am upset about? Me being in danger?"
"Lady McCarty said—"
"My wife worries far too much about my safety." He shakes his head. "That is not why I am angry, Isabella. I made a promise to my cousin to keep you safe, and you disappearing before the break of dawn made it hard for me to keep it. I do not think you quite understand how important keeping my word is to me, otherwise you would not have done what you did."
"I am so sorry, Emmett." I shake my head. "I never set out to make you break your word."
"Then why did you do it?" he asks, frustration evident in his tone.
I watch as courtiers file out of the throne room, all of them distracted by their own conversations, but I am still concerned one might overhear us. "I had my reasons," I say softly.
"Were they enough to risk your life? You do realize if anything had happened to you, Edward would have, at the very least, maimed me for not protecting you." He shakes his head. "Do not do anything foolish again, or I might be forced to see to it you are locked away in your chambers until he returns. And this time I will make sure the guard you are assigned knows not to play the part of your errand boy."
"I am sorry, Emmett," I repeat. I watch as they walk away, Rosalie's arm through her husband's, and again, the guilt wells inside me.
I wake in a cold sweat, my hair clinging to my face. My heart thunders in my chest, and tears stream down my cheeks.
Another nightmare.
I close my eyes as I try to catch my breath and calm myself. I know if I do not get control of my body, I will surely expel the contents of my stomach. It is now, unfortunately, a regular occurrence, and it only seems to be worsening.
Even with my newfound and unexpected friendships with Alice and Rosalie, my heart still aches for the one person who is missing from my life, and at night, I dream of him; I dream of finding him, falling into his arms and feeling the safety and care he showed me in our short time together. Some nights, like tonight, my dreams change to nightmares; terrifying visions of Edward walking away from me and toward the burning camp, being tortured, crying out for me. The visions plague my sleep, and I cannot escape them.
I throw back the covers and sit up in my bed, trying to get my bearings. After my failed rescue attempt and subsequent illness, I always wake disoriented and sick, and it takes me a moment to feel steady enough to stand. When my belly calms and I feel like I will not topple over, I slide from the bed. When my wool-stocking-covered feet hit the cool stone floor, I grab my robe and put it on. I step out of my bedchamber, toward the fire in the sitting room, and sit before the hearth. I stretch my hands toward the warmth, trying not to focus on the empty feeling inside me.
Hours may pass, I am unsure, but soon enough, Angela enters my chambers. Her expression is curious, but she does not question me. I do find her checking the chamber pot to see if I have become ill since she was last with me, though.
"How are you feeling, My Lady?" Angela studies me carefully as I sit on the settee before the fire. She always looks at me this way after I've had a difficult night.
"A bit out of sorts, and again I feel a bit unsettled this morning."
Her eyes light up. "I was speaking with one of the kitchen maids, and she suggested a tea that might help to settle your stomach. Would you like me to prepare some?"
I smile up at my friend. "That would be lovely. I am willing to try anything. Thank you."
She nods and bobs a quick curtsy before turning to the kettle hung on the rack beside the fire. With a careful push, she swings it over the flames and turns back to me. "I just need to go to my chambers to retrieve the tea leaves she gave me. I will be back soon." She excuses herself, and I am left alone.
Even though I do not enjoy solitude as I have before, it is a brief reprieve from her speculative gaze.
Angela returns, herbs in hand, and sets about making my tea. The smell that fills the air as the herbs steep is pungent, and my unsettled belly begins to roil once again. When she finally hands me the cup and the liquid is that much closer to my nose, the need to purge my stomach is overwhelming.
I rush back into my bedchamber and drop to my knees, my face hovering over the pot while a knock sounds at my outer door. I pay no mind to it as I heave into the bowl, my face feeling clammy as I do. A damp cloth appears before me when I finally raise my head, and I take it gratefully.
"Thank you, Angela."
She nods but says nothing.
"Who was at the door?" I ask as I get to my feet.
"It is Lady McCarty. She says she was concerned when you missed prayer services first thing this morning."
I nod and look down at myself. Wrapped in my robe, I am presentable enough. "Please let her know I will be with her shortly."
"Yes, My Lady."
She leaves me, and once I've gathered myself enough to welcome my guest, I join them in my sitting room.
Rosalie lowers into a curtsy. "My Lady."
"Lady McCarty, how good it is to see you. I must say I'm surprised to see you here after the last time you visited me." We both take a seat before the fire. "To what do I owe your visit?"
She nods her thanks to Angela as she accepts a cup of tea, then she turns back to me. "I was concerned when you were not at morning prayer services. You've been nothing if not steadfast in attending since you recovered, and I knew something must be amiss for you not to be there."
"I apologize. I believe I might have some lingering sickness." I offer her a small smile. "I am sure it will resolve itself in time."
Rosalie nods as if distracted, but then looks at me, a curious expression on her face. "Remind me, Isabella, how long has it been since you were wed?"
I furrow my brow, trying to recall how long it has been. "A bit longer than two moon cycles. Why do you ask?"
Rosalie and Angela exchange a look, and I quickly grow impatient with the silent conversation they seem to be having.
Angela clears her throat and replies to Rosalie's unvoiced question. "It is possible," she whispers.
"What is possible? Would one of you please share with me why the two of you are looking at each other like that?" I ask, exasperated.
Angela opens her mouth, but it is Rosalie who answers. "My Lady, is it possible your unsettled stomach is not from your illness?"
"But what else could it be from?"
"Isabella, is it possible you are with child?"
In a single moment of clarity, my misaligned world rights itself, and at the mention of the possibility, hope fills my heart.
My hands fall to my still-flat belly, and an overwhelming sense of peace comes over me. "A child," I whisper. "Edward's child.
A/N: So, what do you think? Is she pregnant? Are we all pissed at the stunt she pulled? What do you think she was hoping to accomplish? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
***IMPORTANT*** Next week is the first of two planned weeks of no updates. :( I know, it sucks, but at least I'm leaving you in a good place and not with a cliffy this week! In a couple days I'm taking off with Mr. Sunshine on the motorcycle for a few days away. I'm leaving all of my electronics at home other than my phone, so I won't be doing any writing or editing for several days. Chapter 16 will post on 10/15! The next planned "week off" is the following week, on 10/22. I'll be in Chicago for the mini meetup the weekend before, visiting with some of my lovely Twi-sisters, my beta included. There will be copious amounts of alcohol involved, I'm sure, so I want to make sure I'm on point when I'm editing that following week's chapter. ;) I will be back to uninterrupted weekly postings with chapter 17 on 10/29. The writing on this one is wrapping up, so we just might get a complete on this around the end of the year or the start of 2020.
I had a guest reviewer last week point out Isabella's calling Carlisle "My Lord" in the last chapter wouldn't have been acceptable, that she should be referring to him as "You're Majesty" at all times. I was told to "get a clue." Well … Other than your critique being misspelled and a bit rude in its delivery, yes, GR, you're right ... to an extent. Remember, she did, in fact, address him as Your Majesty when she walked into the chantry. But in the rest of their private conversation, think of the address of My Lord as more informal, but still acknowledging his position over her. Just like she referred to Edward as My Lord, even though the formal address should have been Your Highness. And seeing how Isabella is part of the family, she can get away with the more informal address, especially in a private conversation. And besides, this is an imaginary world in a made up time. (Please see the A/N at the beginning of the prologue.) If I wanted her to address Carlisle as Lord Commander of the First Order, she would.
Okay, time for some recs. Both of them this week are by the author Isisivy. And both of them are pretty angsty, IMO.
The Sky Is Painted With Red is complete and quite a ride. For those of you who want to see ExB together quick and with no one else, you may want to skip this completed story, but for the rest of you, this is a great vamp fic. Summary: Seven billion people live on Earth. Only a small percentage know of the darkness beneath them. Those people are known as Human Donors. My name is Bella Swan, and I am a human donor. ExB, Vampward
Obstacles is a WIP that seems to be winding down. I only read the very start of it, but I know it's going to be a ride worth taking once it's over. I'm a partial angst wimp, so I usually wait for angsty stories to complete before I dive in. Summary: Bella Swan, still grieving over her mother's sudden death, travels back to her hometown of Forks, Washington to deliver the news to her alcoholic father. Along the way she meets Edward Cullen, a recovering addict, and finds comfort in the most unlikely place.
And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon!
Lots of love
~Sunshine