Ahiru was starting to get used to her daily lunches.
So long as she was able to escape to the forest right after.
In truth, she was learning a lot about Autor that she never thought possible, and it felt good, as if they were becoming real friends.
She would sit with him in the sun room—she still felt the eyes watching them, making sure that they were really getting along, that they were talking and not just eating in silence, but the entourage that followed them on their walks slowly gave them more and more space. Enough that she felt she could have a proper conversation with him.
Her hand wrapped around his elbow.
They walked too slowly, and she wondered if it was the pace a prince and princess were supposed to walk at.
He liked to talk, and she liked to just listen, better to smile and nod than interject and witness his scoff, his eye roll, and then an explanation of how wrong she was.
But, at some point that subsided too.
Some days he would even ask for her opinion, which baffled her.
Then one day, he even apologized to her.
It was just like any other, their slow march under an overcast sky, her bobbing along, her eyes roving over the slowly growing flowers, most still barely budding from their cut from the wedding.
Autor was talking about… someone.
An author, she thinks, based on how judgemental he was of the man… or woman.
"Ahiru, I know that-" Autor paused in his steps, and cleared his throat. "I know that you don't want to be here-"
"Oh, I don't mind being in the garden with you."
"No, I mean here. In Nordlingen. In Bavaria." He avoided her eyes. "I know you would rather be in Arnis."
Ahiru felt her smile fading, and she blinked up at him. Did she?
Yes, she missed the ocean, she missed her father, and sometimes she even missed the people she left behind.
But she never belonged there.
She started walking again, and he could do nothing but keep up with her, a surprised expression on his face.
"I'll be honest, Autor, when I was first… given the option of coming here, I said no. I didn't want to leave my life behind, but now..."
Ahiru couldn't help the smile that overtook her countenance.
Everything had changed.
She thought of Mytho and Rue, how happy they were now that they were together, and one day they would leave, but she still loved them, and she knew that they loved her, too. That they wouldn't forget about her.
Mytho, who was so kind and brave, who fought for love, with his pure heart and dazzling smile. He fit so well with Rue, and he would make a good King. And even though she wasn't married to him, she was grateful that they had met, and that they had once been engaged. She wouldn't trade the dances they shared for the world.
Rue, who was so beautiful and smart, she would make a great Queen, she would stand up for herself, for her people, for the injustices her father committed before her. She would bring about peace to war ladden states and put an end to the war started before her birth. Ahiru smiled as she thought about Rue, her only hope was that they would never stop being friends.
She thought of Pique and Lillie, who made her smile every morning, who didn't care that she was a princess and treated her as an equal.
Miss Edel and Uzura, who she never would have met unless she had refused the request, who taught her everything she knew now.
Mostly, however, she thought about Fakir.
He was perhaps her greatest and closest friend, and she knew that he held her in a special place in his heart.
Once he was King, whether or not she would still be regarded as a princess, she knew that he would still stay by her side, that he wouldn't abandon her.
Fakir, who was so strong, so loyal, so protective, so kind and good; he was so smart, he was…tender, and when he touched her hand, her shoulder, her cheek, his touch was so gentle, and she knew he would never hurt her, he was like no one else, she knew him so well and yet she knew there was still so much more to learn about him.
If she had to do it all again, if she went through life a second time, she would do anything just so that they could meet.
If the ocean had to become a distant memory, and Arnis a far off dream, if it meant she could stay with Fakir, she would let it.
She had so many reasons to be grateful that she was no longer in Arnis.
That she was here, instead.
Ahiru smiled up at Autor, and shook her head. "How could I possibly regret coming here?"
He seemed baffled, but she only laughed it off.
After that, everything was a bit easier.
Femio was becoming a constant in her life as well.
He was a dressmaker, in charge of making two gowns for her in two weeks.
"Two weeks! And you're just starting!" She let her jaw drop, she didn't think that was enough time to make two entire dresses.
"I have been working on them for a long time, I swear it." He promised. "Now, I just need your measurements, to trim off the excess fabric and make it perfect."
Ahiru liked Femio—he was extravagant, every word was spoken with flourish and every action carried out as if it would be his last.
Ahiru would spend her mornings with Femio, standing on a stool as the dress was pulled over her head and he made adjustments.
As far as she could tell it was a wonderful dress, but he made her promise she wouldn't look at it until it was finished.
"It is a most original creation," he stated, standing a few feet away as two of his workers made their adjustments.
Ahiru nodded. "It is! How did you come up with it?"
Femio flipped his hair back. "It came to me in a dream! I saw you standing like an angel amongst the clouds, the sun setting behind you, but as I looked at you more, I realized that the sun was not behind you but that you were the sun!" He chuckled and kissed the tips of his fingers. "When I woke I drew it as quickly as I could, and in the next three days I perfected it."
Ahiru tilted her head. "When did you have the dream?"
"After the first time I met you."
"When did we meet?" Ahiru asked, thinking back to when he burst into her room, thinking it was Mytho's instead.
"Well, I saw you at your very first ball, you danced with Mytho in a dress colored like the sky, and while we did not murmur a word to each other, I knew that our paths would cross again. And so, I was right."
Ahiru smiled.
But then came the wedding dress.
The wedding dress was different from her ball gown in that it was much more fashionable.
Its long sleeves, the train falling behind her, the slim skirt.
When she first put it on, it made her stomach tighten, and all she could do was stare at Femio.
She swallowed hard and tried to push her emotions down, it was just a dress, after all. Nothing more than a white dress.
But it wasn't, and all she could think of was Autor. Of taking his hand in marriage and of-
She took a deep breath, pressing her hand to her abdomen.
"Are you alright?" Femio asked, taking hold of her forearms to steady her. "You look pale."
Ahiru shook her head, determined to tell him that she was fine, that she only missed breakfast, but it wasn't the truth.
The truth was, she didn't want to marry Autor.
Femio snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground next to him. "A chair. S'il vous plaît."
She heard the scrape of a chair being pushed toward them and held fast to Femio as he lead her to the chair and had her sit.
"The dress-" She said, suddenly worried about ruining it.
"Shh, you're alright." Femio sat on the stool, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his chin in his hands. "Leave us."
His workers nodded and left the room until it was only Femio and Ahiru.
"You are scared."
Ahiru felt her jaw start to tremble, and she did her best to stop it.
"I am scared too."
Ahiru looked over at him. He was, too?
Femio smiled. "You are young, but so ready to help others around you. It's an admirable trait, but you must take time and think of what you want."
"Of what I want?"
"Oui. I know that when you gave up Mytho to be with Rue, it was a sacrifice."
Ahiru swallowed, she nodded. "But-"
"No, no but's." He wagged his finger at her. "Mytho is the kind of man that you could come to love, but Autor." Femio sighed, but she didn't miss the smile on his face. "Autor is harder to love, he's challenging, and his goals and motives aren't always for the best of the people, only what he thinks is best."
Ahiru could feel the knot in her stomach coming undone.
Femio scooted towards her and nudged her knee. "Do you know why I wear this?" His finger tapped on a broach he wore on his left collar.
Ahiru tilted her head, it wasn't something she had noticed before.
It was wrought iron, twisted into the likeness of a tree.
"No." She said. "I-I've never seen it before."
Femio chuckled, before he unpinned it from his chest. "I wear this for what it represents to me. The future that I want to see."
"And what future is that?"
"A future where Autor is free."
Ahiru was puzzled, but only for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed together. "What future do you want?"
"A future." Femio said, his voice turned to a low whisper. "Where the True King sits on the throne."
Ahiru's eyes widened. "You don't want-?"
"I want what is best for Autor. And what is best for Autor, is for him to be free, not tied to an earthly throne."
Ahiru took a deep breath, and felt something in her hand.
"An Oak Tree." Femio said. "For the True King."
AHIRU WORE THE PIN on every dress she owned, every morning, after Pique and Lillie left, she would open her jewelry box and pull it out just to pin it above her heart.
The first day she wore it, and Fakir saw, she watched the confusion in his eye, she felt her breath hitch when he reached out and touched it, and she was sure he could feel her heart thundering away in her breast.
He seemed to like it, the corners of his lips twitching, before he took her hand and lead them into the forest.
She noticed that others wore them as well, Pique and Lillie, the cook Ebine, Femio and all his workers had an Oak Tree somewhere.
She learned that it wasn't just the wrought iron broaches, but clothes embroidered with the mark, a patch or an overwhelming pattern, hanging from jewelry, and carved into places, sometimes fences or the sides of buildings, sometimes even another tree.
She hadn't even noticed, but it must have all been there before, waiting for her to discover it.
All the support the people showed to the True King.
She called him that once, just tease him.
"And what will they call you? The Fish Queen?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I won't be Queen." She said. "So long as you interrupt the wedding before I say I do."
Ahiru leaned back against the tree stump, and closed her eyes, but she could feel Fakir looking at her. When she opened her eyes, looking back up at him, she felt her heart stop.
There was a look in his eye that she couldn't name, not quite pity and not quite consideration, he reached forward and put his hand on her cheek.
He wanted to say something, she knew it, but she couldn't figure out just what.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch instead.
THERE WASN'T MUCH TIME left.
Only a week before the Masquerade ball and then—
Ahiru didn't want to dwell on it, she didn't want to think about.
She wouldn't have to go through with it, she wouldn't have to marry someone she didn't love. She was at least certain of that.
Ahiru however, was becoming increasingly worried about Autor.
Everyday, no matter what she did or said, or what he did, he became more lifeless.
It scared her, because she had grown accustomed to his shrewdness, to his condescending tone, and lack of kindness, but now it was gone.
"Just one more week." She said, and what she wanted was for him to roll his eyes and tell her that there were eight days until their wedding, that one week wasn't the proper term and if she continued in such a manner he would have to send her back to her governess and have her be taught how to properly count.
But he didn't.
He only walked, his eyes set on the path before them, and it started to rain.
Ahiru's grip on his arm tightened, and she bit the inside of her cheek, she looked down at her feet, carefully pushing at the edge of her dress so she wouldn't trip, the fabric flowing with every step, but it was slowly getting wet.
They'd have to go back inside soon, but Autor only strode forward, and she was afraid to let go.
She hated it when he got like this, and she didn't understand it. She didn't understand how his character could go dormant, how it could be stuffed down until there was nothing but polished wood on top.
Like a marionette.
"Autor, it's raining." She said. "We should go inside."
Autor didn't utter a word, but he stopped, and it started to rain harder.
"Autor-"
"Why do you wear that pin?" He asked, his words stiff. Unfeeling.
Ahiru's hand lifted to the broach, cold to her touch, wet from the drops of rain that pelted it. "It was a gift." She said. Her voice softer than she meant it to be.
"A gift, you say?" His eyes turned to her and there was an inkling of emotion there. His eyebrow raised, a look of judgement. "Given to you by surprise? Or were you made aware that it was coming? Of its meaning?"
"A-a gift is supposed to be a surprise." She avoided his eyes. She was a terrible liar.
"And a gift from who?" Autor turned himself towards her.
Ahiru stole her hand back, her hands clenching at her side. "Femio." She said, relieved that she could speak some truth.
"You know, I've seen Femio wearing a pin like this before." Autor's hand rose and the tips of his fingers brushed against the pin. "And I know the meaning behind it."
Ahiru froze, there was something about his voice, it wasn't just his words, but the tone of his voice…
It was… off…
And somehow she knew, those words didn't belong to Autor, but someone else.
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she wondered if he could feel it, he was so close.
His hand fell to his side.
"You are lucky you are useful, but once that ends..." Autor returned to her side, there was a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, the smell of electricity in the air. "And it will end..." He took her hand and forced it back into the crook of his elbow. "...that luck will run out."
Ahiru dug her fingers into his arm, she should have been scared, but she wasn't.
She was filled with anger instead.
She was tired of being a scared little girl, doing only what she was told. She was tired of listening, and only listening, to threats, to offers that didn't belong to her; of being pushed around like she was nothing. Like she was a pawn on a chess board.
And she refused to be anyone's pawn.
Ahiru stopped and pulled her hand from his elbow. "It is raining and I am going inside." She told him, her eyebrows set hard above her eyes, and her lips a firm line.
She hoisted up her wet skirts, until her feet were able to walk freely and walked back inside.
As soon as she stepped inside, she dropped her gown, and it flopped to the floor, splashing her legs and the space around her.
"Princess!" Someone scolded.
She tucked a wet piece of hair behind her ear, and continued down the hallway, her plan to change and go find Fakir. Go to the forest. Where it didn't rain, where Autor was bound to leave her alone, and where she didn't have to listen to anyone else.
Ahiru could hear them running after her, and she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to run away from them, or if she wanted to face them. There was no obvious Princess-answer.
She was in no mood to talk politely.
"Ahiru!" Edel called.
And that made Ahiru sigh, she pursed her lips and screwed her eyes shut, Miss. Edel was probably disappointed in her.
Miss. Edel stood in front of her. "You're soaking wet, here, lets go get you changed."
"Miss. Edel, would you control your charge. They've only been on their walk for ten minutes."
Ahiru watched as Edel cast a glare to whoever spoke, her hands landed on Ahiru's shoulder's.
"They should have come inside at the first sign of rain, and I will take care of her before she catches her death."
Edel started to push Ahiru along, careful not to step behind her and the dripping trail she left.
"A hot bath, a change of clothes, and then Femio will see you."
That halted Ahiru in her tracks. "What?"
"For your final fitting. He is to come at the end of your walk. It will be the last one before the ball and your wedding."
"Hasn't he seen me enough?"
"Watch your tone." Miss. Edel scolded. "Just one more. To make sure it fits. It's a complicated process, you know."
"I never had to go through this with any of my other dresses."
Miss. Edel cleared her throat. "Your other dressmakers made the dresses only using your measurements. Master Femio, prefers making sure that every inch of the gown is fitted to you perfectly."
"It was perfect last time, I'm sure it's perfect this time." She mumbled.
Miss. Edel sighed. "I'm sure it is. At most you'll just have to try it on."
"Each dress will-"
"Ahiu, I don't know where this-this attitude came from, but it must stop."
Ahiru looked up at Miss. Edel for the first time and noticed the expression on her face.
Edel had always done her best to remain calm, cool, and collected, to remain a distance, and arms length away, and she had succeeded. For all Ahiru knew, the relationship they had was simply the cold, unfeeling connection between a student and a teacher.
But now tears collected in the corners of her eyes, and her lips struggled to form words.
Ahiru was worried she had angered Miss. Edel with her sudden sourness.
Ahiru looked away, suddenly filled with shame, but Edel cupped her cheek and pulled her attention towards her.
"I know, that…right now, things aren't what you want them to be, but soon… Soon, I promise it will be better." Edel patted her cheek, and smiled at her with affection.
Ahiru nodded. "I'm sorry."
"You've done so much, not just for your friends, but for your people. I should have seen it sooner." Edel tucked the wet strands of hair behind her ear. "I should have-" Edel sighed and smiled. "I should have let you take a moment to breathe."
Ahiru thought about her moments in the forest, the moments where she could breathe. Had they not been enough?
They walked back to Ahiru's room together, Ahriu drew her bath as Miss. Edel made quick work of pulling at the ties that bound her dress together.
"I'll be back, I left Uzura with Ebine, and should get her before she's there for the whole afternoon."
Ahiru nodded, part of her face already submerged in bathwater. She wasn't sure what she did, she didn't quite remember, only the repetitive task of pouring soap into her hands, lathing it into her hair, on her face, on her skin, and then pouring water over herself. She was finished by the time Edel and Uzura returned, although Uzura became distracted by the bubbles in the water and started splashing her arms.
Ahiru was wrapped warmly in a towel and she sat beside the fire as Edel ran a brush through her hair.
"The tips are already dry." Edel said, the tint of a smile in her voice.
Ahiru nodded. Her hair dried fast, it always had, especially on warmer days, or when she sat by a fire, being that her hair wasn't especially thick.
Peace filled her, and she didn't understand, but the only thought that filled her mind was that it was the calm before the storm.
Edel did her best to replicate the intricate style her hair had been in before, and dressed her in a simple shift, it settled just as the door opened and Femio stepped in.
He gave his grand greeting, only two workers with him that day, but a few palace servants hoisted the trunks that held her two dresses inside.
Ahiru thought she was ready, she was at least prepared for the golden dress, a gown she prefered and could feel herself smiling as she wore it.
Even on a dreary day like this, it shone like the sun, and it filled her room with light.
Femio seemed too pleased with himself, most of his words were in French, and at times she could catch what he was saying, with a few scattered words in her tongue.
"A goddess." He called her. "Radiant."
It made her blush, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, she could almost call herself those things, too.
But soon it was pulled off, and she felt cold and naked as she was changed into the simpler silk dress that…
That she would marry Autor in.
It was tight, and it was a beautiful dress, as well. It was even prettier than Rue's wedding dress, and she was sure it was more expensive than all the clothes she had ever owned.
It sparkled, it was smooth; she didn't feel like she deserved to wear it.
She couldn't even look at herself in the mirror.
She was upset and Femio knew it.
Everyone in the room knew it, even Uzura, who ran around and played with the scrapes of fabric, trying on the ballgown.
Femio came towards her, he took her hands in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Do not be sad, you are too pretty to be sad."
Ahiru offered him a watery chuckle. "No, I'm not pretty. I'm-"
"Beautiful? I have never met anyone more deserving of the word. If that is not the right word, I said radiant earlier. Lovely? You are too enchanting to be sad."
"I'm incandescent. I don't know about lovely, or beautiful. I can't help but feel-" Ahiru didn't know what she felt.
Everything from what Autor said, even the very air that surrounded her, there was a horrid feeling creeping into her heart.
"I can't help but feel my wedding will mark the end."
"The end of what, mon cher?"
Ahiru furrowed her eyebrows. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Can you take this off now?"
Femio nodded. "The next time I see you, will be a week from now. Oh how we will have changed! Will we even recognize each other?"
Ahiru giggled and he tapped the bottom of her chin.
"There's that smile."
Ahiru was stripped of her wedding gown and was placed in one that was dry, a pretty thing, although all of her dresses were pretty.
Femio's two workers set up too forms, and placed her two gowns over them, like two ghouls that stood in the corner of her chambers. The gold one stood before the white, but it looked as if the white was lurking.
The room emptied save for Edel, who stood before Ahiru. "I've told the Bookmen and the servants that the rest of your evening will be spent in here, and they'll bring up your dinner."
"Thank you, Miss. Edel."
Miss. Edel smiled and kissed Ahiru's temple, before she and Uzura left her room.
Ahiru let out a sigh, she hoped it wasn't too late. Maybe she could just leave a note to leave her food on the desk, that she went to the library to grab a book. That would work, besides, who knew when they were coming in.
Ahiru left the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. She couldn't help it, she waited all day for this moment.
Ahiru wrote her note, and stole a look out the window, the rain had ceased, and at least they could get to the forest without getting soaked again.
She left her note on the desk, when there was a knock at her door, it was early, but maybe they already bought dinner and she wouldn't have to leave her note at all.
"Come in." She said, holding the note behind her back.
The door opened a sliver, and Pique walked in before shutting it quietly behind her.
Ahiru smiled. "Oh, Pique, it's just you."
But Pique stayed silent, her hand stayed on the door handle, and her gaze was glued to it.
"Pique?"
"Ahiru. Are you alright?"
Ahiru tilted her head. "Huh? What do you mean, Pique?"
Pique fisted her hand and turned towards Ahiru, her fists at her hips. "You're going to get yourself killed if you keep doing this!"
"What? Pique, I don't-"
"Don't play dumb!" Pique shifted uncomfortably, almost avoiding Ahiru's gaze. "I know where you go everyday…who you go with."
Ahiru was confused, but she remembered.
She remembered Pique's words, though light and teasing at the time, held some seriousness.
Ahiru forgot the feelings Pique carried for Fakir.
She bit her lip, it wasn't very fair to Pique, that she was stealing Fakir from her.
"You wear that pin so proudly on your chest, and I know you're being watched. They know, Ahiru. You have to stop."
"It's too late, isn't it? If they already know?"
Pique gave her an odd look. "Yes, but you can still try to practice some self conservation. Before something bad happens!"
"I'm not doing anything wrong." Ahiru walked forward, towards the door, intending to leave.
Pique groaned. "It doesn't matter, you can't just do what you want!"
"So what? I should just sit inside my room and do nothing instead?"
Pique leveled a glare. "It's not like what you're doing is helping anyone. Maybe you should start thinking about other people."
"I have been thinking about others. I'm thinking about myself, too." Ahiru told her, and she tried to light the fire that had been there before, with Autor, but she couldn't help but feel pity for Pique. "You should, too."
"I'm thinking of the greater good." Pique pouted. "About the future of my home! I know this place isn't yours, but it is mine, and I plan to protect it."
"You should put your faith in Fakir." Ahiru smiled. "I have."
"All my faith is in Fakir!"
Ahiru put her hand on Pique's shoulder, but she shrugged it off, "You don't have to worry about-"
"Don't tell me what to worry about! What I'm worried about is what will happen to Fakir if they find out about you two!"
"I thought they knew." Ahiru tilted her head.
"They know you leave, but they don't follow you."
Ahiru furrowed her eyebrows. "Have you followed me?"
"I just happened to be out in town when I saw the two of you run into the forest." Pique pouted. "What are you doing in there? Everyone knows how dangerous it is."
"It's actually really nice."
"What?" Pique squeaked. "No. It's not. It's filled with- with monsters! And beasts!"
Ahiru shrugged. "It might be, I haven't met them yet."
"It doesn't matter! What you're doing is wrong, and dragging Fakir into each and everyday, too? He should be preparing."
"He is prepared. I have no doubts in whether or not he will win the Königsspiel." Ahiru shook her head. "Why do you?"
"I-" Pique was taken aback. "I don't! I don't have doubts!"
"It sounds like the problem you have is with me." Ahiru took a deep breath. There wasn't much she could do, if Fakir loved Pique, he would have chosen her a long time ago. "Pique, I want to be your friend, but I don't want to fight you about this."
Ahiru put her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open.
"I know who you are." She said, giving Ahiru pause. "I know that you're not a Princess, that you're just a fisherman's daughter."
Ahiru stayed silent, she wondered if her diary wasn't so well hidden after all.
"You'll have no purpose here once everyone knows."
"Fakir said I was allowed to stay."
Pique was slowly falling apart, every strong argument she had brought to the table, Ahiru brought one that was stronger. "Maybe, but after a while he'll get tired of you, and then what?"
Ahiru stepped out into the hallway, even as Pique grabbed at her to stay, she took a few long, sure strides before she paused and looked back. "Maybe that will be true. Maybe one day he will get tired of me. But, this is my home now, and I'm not leaving."
Ahiru turned and walked away, she didn't like the words that she was saying, in the short time she had known Pique, and the small friendship they had formed she was sure had been ripped to shreds.
Ahiru blindly made her way about the castle, her only sure destination was a door.
A door, and whatever that smell was.
She found herself at the kitchen door, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla just wafting from behind.
She raised her fist to knock on the door, but hesitated. It wasn't her place to beg for bread, even if she had been in such a position before, she wasn't now. Even if that position was just pretend.
But the door opened anyway, and a tall woman stood in the doorway.
"Oh, your Grace, I'm so sorry. My deepest apologizes." The cook offered a bow.
"No, it's okay. What are you making?"
She smiled. "Ah, so your nose lead you here? Come inside, come in."
Ahiru was ushered in and she was placed right in front of the freshly baked buns, presumably made for tomorrow's breakfast. They smelled sweet and they looked fluffy.
"Why don't you try one for me?"
"Oh, I don't know if I-"
She rolled her eyes. "Well, someone has to try them. I've been messing around with an old recipe, and look." Ebine went forward and picked up a bowl of butter. "I made cinnamon butter to go along with it, with a dash of sugar."
It was good, the butter melted on the fresh bread, and all she could taste was soft, spiced bread.
"It's for Autor, you know." Ebine gave a sad smile. "He always liked cinnamon, and I would make these for him. Well, a different version, but I think I prefer these."
Ahiru swallowed. "Do you know Autor well?"
"Oh yes, I like to think so. He used to come in here all the time with his books and I would let him try the cookies I made before balls, and the sweets I crafted for holidays." Ebine's smile grew more forlorn. "He would bake sometimes too, although he wasn't very good at it. He, instead, would read out the instructions for the recipe between pages of his books. It's been a while since he's been in my kitchen."
"He's been strange lately."
Ebine's expression hardened, "That rotten old man." She cursed under her breath, but then, as if remembering who she was with, lifted a hand to cover her gasp. "I'm so sorry."
"No, it's alright. What do you mean by that?"
"I said too much, just ignore me." Ebine shook her head, she wiped her hands on her apron and walked around the kitchen.
"Ebine, please? I'm worried about him, too."
Ebine stopped, she gave a sigh and turned around, putting down the bowl she was collecting. Her eyes scanned Ahiru head to toe and they landed on the pin on her chest. Ebine stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch it, but then realizing how rude that was, stole her hand back.
"Ask Fakir, he will… He can tell you." Ebine nodded gravely, "hurry, the sun hasn't set yet."
Ahiru gave a curt nod, she left through the kitchen door, leading out into the gardens and gave Ebine one last parting smile.
"Thank you."
Ebine waved, she smiled, but there was something lingering just behind it.
The clouds were starting to part, enough that she saw bits of sky, and rays of sunlight broke through, but it was growing dark, painted orange and pink, the colors of the sunset.
It wasn't as if she had come back at night before, she was sure they would be fine.
But with each step, she felt her heart grow heavy with burden.
Maybe Pique was right, and she needed to think about others first, was this really the best idea? These stolen moments? When Fakir could be doing something important?
There was so much wrong with everything, what if she was distracting him?
He had to fix Autor, and the Kingdom, he had to handle Drosselmeyer and the Bookmen, and he had to run, and-
Ahiru paused, she looked up and saw him coming towards her, a soft look in his eyes.
A look he only shared with her.
There was momentary relief, he had come to find her just as she had gone out in search of him, but it all flooded back.
She took an unsteady breath and lifted up her skirts, she ran to him, she threw herself into his arms and he caught her. He steadied them, his hand tight around her back, the other cradling the back of her head.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get away."
He scoffed. "Don't apologize, idiot."
"Were you waiting long?"
There was a pause before he said. "No."
Ahiru pulled away and smiled at him. "You were, weren't you?"
Fakir gave her a glare, one with no heat.
She laughed. "It's okay, I was waiting too."
He shook his head and let go of her. "I may have just been walking back home."
"Did you see me?" She asked shyly, peeking out him from out the side of her eye.
"I did, which was why I turned back."
They walked to the gate, to the end of the field, along the well trodden path, and when he sat down in the stump meadow, she wrapped her arms around his neck, falling into him.
"Are you alright?"
"I am now."
He ran his fingers through her hair. "What happened?"
Ahiru huffed, and she told him about her day, about Autor and his strange voice, how even his touch was different, and she just knew it wasn't him, Femio, trying on the dresses, and the horrible sickness that wreaked havoc on her stomach when she wore it, she talked about Pique—although not everything that Pique had said, even if Pique hated her now, she didn't want to betray Pique's trust—and the conversation she had with Ebine.
"What did she mean? Can you tell me? Please?"
Fakir looked up at her, sympathy clear in his eyes. Her hand was in his, his fingers tracing the lines on her palms. "She was talking about Drosselmeyer."
Ahiru knit her eyebrows together in thought. "What does Drosselmeyer have to do with Autor acting weird?"
Fakir avoided her gaze. "It's… it's not easy to explain. Drosselmeyer has… abilities. Abilities that allow him to control people with writing."
"Oh." Ahiru's eyebrows pulled closer together. "Wait, what?"
"I guess you could call it magic."
Ahiru blinked. Magic. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." Fakir ran the tips of his fingers up hers. "It sounds like you had a bad day."
"Well." Ahiru shrugged. "It wasn't a fun day."
"Can I show you something?"
Ahiru nodded. Fakir stood, he took her hands and helped her up.
"I want to tell you a story."
Ahiru tilted her head but nodded, ready to listen as they walked out of the forest.
"The story goes that, when Drosselemyer was a little boy, he wandered into the forest, like you and I do. He wasn't hurt, and instead was welcomed, and he came back many times, but he never went as deep, he stayed close to the edge, so if he was called, it would be easy to come back, but he knew the forest like the back of his hand, and the forest knew him.
"When he got older, he himself heard a story, in the center of the forest there was a tree that, every few years, offered people some of her power. Some, she gave to unexpectedly, others she gave when asked. She was careful not to give out too much, if any of these people had too much of her power, it would lead to terrible consequences.
"He had heard that the power was great and terrible, and it was something he wanted for himself. A gift. From the forest he loved so much.
"Drosselmeyer walked deep into the forest, and when he came out, the Oak Tree had given him some of her power. But-" Fakir clicked his tongue.
"What?" Ahiru asked as they stepped out of the forest, her feet pushing against blades of grass, slowly dying from the frost.
"There's something odd about the story, it's blurry, like I can't see all of it."
"What do you mean, see?"
"Drosselmeyer inherited the power, and- wait." Fakir grabbed her arm and pushed her against the city wall, flattening himself against it as well.
"What?"
Fakir quirked a brow. "There are guards posted."
"Guards?" Ahiru looked up at the wall, but she couldn't see their walkways.
"They never have-" Fakir took her hand. "We have to be careful tonight."
Ahiru nodded, they slinked along the wall until they reached the door, but it was locked.
"Damn."
"Fakir?"
"Hang on." Fakir knelt down and took out his hidden dagger, and started picking the lock. "Stupid bastards used Charon's lock."
The lock opened and he pushed the door until it swung open.
"Hurry."
Ahiru nodded, she took his hand and they went into the city, her eyes shifted to the walls, watching the fire flicker in the night and shadows of the knights as they walked along and looked out for…
For them.
Fakir led her back to the palace, his hand prodding the bricks until they opened and he took her inside the dark tunnel, there was no light to guide them this time, but he held her close to him as one hand pressed against the wall.
"Why… why are they patrolling like that?" Her hand squeezed his, as if to gain his attention.
"Believe it or not, but most people know about my intentions to run. Including Drosselmeyer."
"They've never done that before."
Fakir nodded. "I know."
"Fakir-" She said, but he squeezed her hand, as if to silence her.
She heard the grinding of stone and moonlight filled the tunnel.
"Ahiru, this," Fakir pulled her out until her feet landed on the soft stone that formed paths. "This is the King's Garden."
Ahiru walked past him, in disbelief that she had never seen this place before.
It was so grand, too grand to be hidden away.
Like a secret garden, walls rose around it, stretching up to be three stories high, like the city wall, each story had a walkway, they looped around the garden so one could go up and admire the garden from above, from a bird's eye view, the walls were covered in ivy, glassless windows the only thing uncovered, bouncing arches that gave just enough shade from the sun without blocking the view.
It was small, it had to be, to be a secret garden, but it was filled with life, untamed and wild, as if no one had taken care of it in years, as if someone decided to let nature be the gardener.
"You can come here whenever you feel sad." He told her. "Upset or angry. I do."
Ahiru whipped her head to look at him, a beaming grin pulling at her lips. "I can?"
Fakir nodded. "If there's a day where we can't escape to the forest, or even day where you can't see me at all, come here."
"I will." She smiled and stepped forward, she snatched his hand and dragged him along, trudging her way over every forgotten path, and asking him what everything was, only for him to laugh and tell her he had no idea.
"I want to stay here." She said.
"You can."
"No, I mean." Ahiru let out a deep breath, she took his other hand, and looked down at his in hers. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back out there, where there's Autor, and betrothals, and Bookmen, and Drosselmeyer, and magic. I don't want to have lunch with him if he's not going to talk to me, and I don't want to have to look Pique in the eye if she hates me."
"Come here. I want to show you my favorite place to go, a place I never want to leave either."
Ahiru sniffled. "Even more than all of this?"
"Yes." Fakir lead her to a place that was different from the rest of the garden.
Yes, it was still wild and untamed, left to Mother Nature to tend to, but this was unlike any other space because of the large weeping willow tree that hung over a large pond, the tips of her branches dipping into the water's edge, creating ripples with every passing breeze. It was alive here, she could hear the frogs croaking on their lilypads, bobbing with every ripple, she could hear the water gently lapping at the shore and she could see the moon shining on the water.
The sky, still covered in leftover cloud wisps, was clear enough that the full moon was able to glow gently around them, making everything appear softer, and filtered everything through a blue lense.
Fakir stopped when they creaked into an old, white gazebo, built just at the water's edge, Ahiru pressed herself to the railing, catching herself on her hands to look over at the water, coated green even in the blue moonlight, she was sure every rock and surface that was submerged was covered in algae.
She turned around, leaning against the railing and on her hands. "Fakir, this is wonderful."
Fakir stepped forward, he leaned against a column that held the gazebo's roof. "It is, isn't it?"
"Thank you, I promise I won't abuse it, and I'll only come here when I really need to."
Fakir's eyes flashed somewhere behind them before they returned to hers. "You could live here and you wouldn't be abusing it." Fakir lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek.
"I feel a lot better, thank you." She smiled at him, leaning into his hand.
"Ahiru."
"Yes?"
"In a week's time, you'll be in the chapel-"
"Don't." She pouted. "Don't talk about it, please?"
Fakir shook his head. "I'll challenge Autor to the run."
Ahiru nodded.
"And I'll win."
Ahiru nodded again, her hand raising to cover Fakir's. "I know you will."
"You have to promise me something."
"Anything."
Fakir looked down at her chest, he lifted his other hand and touched her broach, he started to fiddle with it. "Promise me you won't marry that prick."
Ahiru opened her lips to make such a promise, but he surprised her.
He pressed his lips to hers, the hand on her cheek went into her hair to tilt her head, he tilted his own head, so as to kiss her more soundly, and she melted into him.
He pulled away too quickly, and she heard something drop to the floor.
Then the shooting started.
"Step away from the Princess!"
Ahiru jumped in surprise, but Fakir didn't, it was like he knew they were coming, he pushed her behind him instead, and all she could do was cling to him.
She watched as guards raced down the different walkways, down the stairs that connected the levels, she looked above, at the ones that lined the top, their crossbows aimed at them.
At Fakir.
She clung to him tighter, unwilling to let him go, but the guards had other ideas.
They pulled them apart, and two had to hold her back. She stepped on the guards foot and tried to run back to Fakir, but two more came and grabbed her arms.
Ahiru watched as Fakir willingly let the guards tie his hands together.
"Fakir-"
"Fritz Schmidt, you are hereby arrested for conspiring against the crown."
"What?" Ahiru struggled against the two guards. "You can't do that!"
There was a taunting laugh, and when Ahiru looked, she saw three silhouettes standing in the moonlight. Recognizable by the cloak and the feathers and the glint.
"Bring the Princess Odette here. She has no need to be next to a criminal."
The two guards that held her dragged her away, and despite her best efforts, they were much stronger than her.
"Fakir." She called again, searching for his eyes, and when they met she let out a sigh of relief.
"Go with them, don't struggle." He said. "I'll be alright. Find Charon. Ask-" Fakir sighed. "Ask about the leaves."
Ahiru had stopped and was jostled by one of the guards, but she raised her brows at him.
The leaves.
She would have to remember that.
She would have to find Cahron and ask him.
She watched as they lead him out of the garden and all she could do was grit her teeth from crying out to him.
They took her up the three flights of stairs until she stood on the highest walkway, with a view of the whole garden, but also the palace, and she could see the palace gardens from there, too.
The two guards let her go when they reached the three men.
Drosselmeyer.
The Bookmen.
And Autor.
Ahiru looked at Autor, but he didn't seem any different, he didn't even turn to look at her.
But Drosselmeyer did.
"Well, my dear, didn't I warn you to stay away from the blacksmith's son?"
Ahiru glared at him. "That's not his name."
Drosselmeyer had a grin, he always had a grin, but as he watched Ahiru shake with rage, that grin faded.
"And he's not the blacksmith's son."
"Oh?" Drosselmeyer's eyes narrowed. "Then who is he, your Highness?"
"He's the son of Queen Helmia and King Ecke, his name is Prince Lohengrin Fakir-" Ahiru let out a sharp gasp, her cheek started to sting.
Drosselmeyer lowered his hand and glared at her. "Do not speak such lies to me, child. Autor, take your betrothed to her room, and if she gives you trouble just call for a guard."
An iron grip latched onto her elbow, and Ahriu looked to Autor, who lifelessly obeyed Drosselmeyer's every command.
She looked back over her shoulder, at Drosselmeyer, and his manic grin was back in place.
Her eye was caught again by the full moon, still hung high in the night sky, as banks of clouds covered its face once more.
FAKIR WATCHED AS THE two guards took her away, but he felt the rope rub against his wrists when they pulled at them, forcing him along.
They lead him to hole in the wall, brick by brick had been ripped apart and he wondered if Drosselmeyer was able to find out about the secret garden—how had he not figured out the way to get inside?
He turned his attention back to where they were walking and cursed, they were going in a strange direction, a route he was sure was plotted to gain the most attention.
It didn't help that every room they passed, the guards shouted:
"Transportation of a wanted criminal! Clear the hallways!"
Over and over, every door they passed opened the servants that were working in their came out.
"Fakir?"
Great.
Fakir looked over his shoulder at the faces he recognized, the glint of their iron Oak Trees too bright in the dimly lit hallways.
"Fakir what's happening?"
"Where are they taking you?"
"Why are they doing this?"
"Fakir are you going to be okay?"
Each tried to get close, to lay a hand on his arm, but the guards that surrounded him pushed them back.
"I'll be okay." He shouted a general promise. "Go back inside. Stay safe."
"Fakir?"
Fakir swallowed a sigh, again he looked over his shoulder at a face he recognized.
Pique followed after him and the guards, a painful look of concern on her features.
"Don't follow, go home."
"Fakir, where are they taking you?"
Fakir grit his teeth. "I don't know, but I'll be alright."
A look of guilt passed over her face. "Where did you come from?"
He was silent, not sure what she wanted to know. Or why she was asking.
"Who were you with?"
"Pique, go, I promise I'll be okay. Just go."
Pique sniffled, but nodded, her feet slowed and she fell back.
Fakir continued his trek, avoiding some of the eyes of the people he knew, shouting his promises again.
Everything would be fine.
He was going to be fine.
Stay safe.
Go back inside.
Don't worry about me.
He started to wonder if it was truly a promise to them, or himself.
Then he wondered what had happened to Ahiru, if she was alright herself.
They had brought her to Drosselmeyer, and for all he knew she would be charged for the same crimes.
But she wouldn't, she couldn't.
They had no proof.
He knew they had proof for him, his countless rallies, his constant studying, preparing for the day when he would rightfully claim what was his, gaining followers and support, from Nobles, from farmers, from artisans.
He was sure he wasn't always careful.
But he was careful with Ahiru.
He was careful that there was no trail that led back to her.
He even threw away her broach, the one piece of evidence that linked her to him.
She would be safe.
She had to be.
As for him.
Fakir looked up to see they had reached their destination.
The dungeon.
The cells were empty, the hallways light with fire torches, but as they lead him deeper he knew they wouldn't be putting him in a cell that had open bars.
The guards opened a door that was made of iron, a slim window in the door his only way of looking out, and when they opened the door and shoved him in, he saw there was no windows either.
Fakir looked back at the guards, he recognized the dead expressions in their eyes.
If they removed their helmets, he was sure that he would recognize one or two as one of his followers.
One came into the cells with him, patted his sleeves and toros, his legs.
He didn't pull anything away, and Fakir didn't allow himself to smirk until the door closed, they missed his dagger in their puppet-like state.
He closed his eyes.
In a week he would be King.
He would get out of here, he swore it.
His people depended on him, but now Ahiru did too.
Fakir would make sure his people were happy, that they lived life freely, out from under the Bookman's eye and the tyranny that Drosselmeyer surely put them under.
He would be sure that he would do the same for Ahiru; he'd make damn sure that she got her happy ending.