Ambriella
Louisa likes to plant peach trees, as it happens. And Jane likes to play the harp. I hate the harp, but I let her play it when she wants to. Someone should have things go their way, right? And after Rainier's wreck of a visit, I suppose I could do with any kind of distraction that I can get, even if it's to stop in the hallway to consider how much I hate the harp.
Stupid, simple tasks that I'd have done once upon a time to clear my head are a thing of the past now. The grand piano is gathering dust in the parlor by the staircase but I won't let anyone near it, because just a week ago when Lucia was cleaning it, she hit one of the keys and the sound made me homicidal. I had to shut the thing closed and no one's gone near it ever since.
No one's said a word to me since the prince and his royal company left Royce Manor. I haven't spoken much to anyone, either. Aside from Edward. He comes by after he's done with his work every now and again. When he comes, I make him a fruit tart or a meat pie and we walk through the gardens together. He always asks, just when he's about to leave, 'are you alright, Miss Ambriella?'. Sweet kid. But I'm all out of patience for sympathy.
I haven't been able to sleep ever since I moved back into my room on the night of my eighteenth birthday. I moved my stuff back into the attic, but surprise surprise—I can't sleep there either. No matter where I lay my head, it doesn't make a difference because my head spins and spins like an old top and when it stops at last I just feel angry and confused.
I've done it. I've been patient. I've been kind. I've gotten my reward. I've taken back Royce Manor and I've taken back Allendale gold and those disgusting worms are going to spend the rest of their lives paying for what they did to me. It's exactly as it should be, isn't it? So what's wrong? Why is it that the joy of victory only seemed to last that one day? I've finally succeeded—there had been days in the past decade when I had all but lost hope completely—but it's finally here and I've done it. I should be happy. I have everything that I wanted. I'm out of the dark of the woods, finally here in the sunlight. But the sunlight feels no brighter than the days in the woods. If anything, I'd be inclined to say that it feels even darker.
It's maybe a week into the new regime when I see a memory. Not of Lucia or the girls. Of them. Of Father and Mother and life here before any of this came down on me. It first happened at dinner with Louisa and Jane a few weeks ago. Louisa had thought it would be good fun to tip her wineglass onto the tablecloth for the sake of watching Anastasia nearly burst into tears. And I had been tempted to laugh, even though it wasn't the slightest bit funny, but I had been smiling with this deep rooted inner joy when I saw it. Mother was standing there by the window whispering something sweetly into Father's ear.
What oh what would they say if they could see me now? I've done everything right. I've followed all the rules. I was good. I was nice. I was kind. I was patient. I was everything that I had to be. And now I'm everything that I've wanted to be and still somehow everything feels wrong.
I see them again in the halls and they just walk by me, chatting together, laughing together. They were happy here. Happy, beautiful old fools. I suppose that's probably the nicest thing a person can be, really. Just a simple, happy idiot. My parents were simple, happy idiots. I'm not. I'm smart and I'm convoluted and I'm not happy. But oh—what I wouldn't give to be an idiot.
I see them again in the garden. Mother liked to lie back in the grass and stare at the clouds. She does that now every time that I look out my window. It's the first thing that I see and now I don't go out into the garden anymore.
Father liked to sit in the study with his brandy and books. He does it now every time that I go in there and now I don't go in there anymore.
The halls slowly begin to fill with memories as Mother and Father make their presence known all around me, and soon I can't leave my bedroom.
It's not a long while before I realize that it's too bright in my room, and that's when I start to put up covers to block out the windows. No sunlight, no garden view, no memories.
It's early autumn when I see it. A girl, little and pure, running into Mother's arms. They've finally broken through the barricade. Mother smiles, kisses her little girl. She turns her head, and her eyes find me. My eyes.
When was I ever that happy? I can't even remember what it felt like. I can't remember what Mother looked like. I can't remember what home was like, it feels so long ago. All I can think of anymore is how much I hate the past years of my life, how desperately I wish I could forget them. How much I hate Lucia and Anastasia and Drisella and how badly I want them to suffer.
I throw my teacup at the memory. It doesn't do a thing and that only makes it worse. I throw the tray out next. I hate this stupid china. Why did I bother keeping it safe all these years? Why didn't I just let Anastasia break it all that day? It's not even that pretty. It's just old. Old and expensive and empty—like everything else in this house.
Lucia has the exclusive duty of cleaning my room. When she comes in tonight and sees the results of the temper tantrum I've thrown, she looks ready to faint. I turn to face her, watch her face fall and her spirit drop just a little more, and I have to swallow back the bile that rises in my throat.
"Get out," I hiss at her. She closes the door behind her.
She doesn't come back to clean my room again. I lock the doors and I don't open them. I hate her so much that now—when I finally have the power to make her as miserable as she once made me—I can't even bring myself to look at her. I don't care if she's outside my door living her life as happily as she always has, as long as she doesn't show me her face.
No one talks about Rainier again. Edward knows better than to bring him up. How disappointing that prince turned out to be. I should have known he'd turn tail and run as soon as he learned the truth.
And you know what sucked the most? He didn't even try to understand what it is that I've been dealing with. He didn't even try to understand what it is he's asking me to do. How long have I been waiting for this? I told him, and he saw how badly I got hurt and he's seen what they've done to me and he still brushed it off like it was something I could just turn my back on.
A true prince of fools. Dodged a bullet there.
But there have been treacherous moments when I've imagined what would have happened if I'd gone with him that day. I would be there right now, probably walking through that garden with him, probably telling him upfront that I only said I liked orchids to get on his nerves and that my real favorite flower is actually the buttercup. I'd probably be reading through every drama in his oversized library. I'd probably have done lots of things.
But here I am, here where I'm meant to be, and nothing is right. And that pure little girl is still looking at me expectantly. There's some strange unmet disappointment in her eyes. What did she want back then? I can't even remember. What did she dream of? I'm not too sure. But she's me and the fact that something in me seems to have withered is magnified by the fact that I don't know this girl at all.
I can't handle the force or the questions or the accusations in her gaze. I pull open the doors to the balcony and climb up onto the railing, staring out at my little queendom. I can still feel her eyes penetrating the skin on my back, asking me over and over again. Where did you go wrong, Ambriella? When did you get so weak that you allowed all that misery to consume you? When did you go from being a perfect little fool to this thing?
I've chosen family over love. That is the choice I'll stick with. Rainier doesn't understand. He never will. No one will.
Look out at your world, Ambriella. You're the queen of this world, the only person left in it and you'll be here with these memories and these people and this empty shell that you have become forever. This house will guide you just as it guided that little girl once, and it will protect you just as it is protecting you now and one day in a month or maybe a year or maybe ten you'll be strong enough so that no one can disappoint you. Not Rainier for being an idiot, not your parents for leaving you all alone, not Lucia for being a callous bitch, not anyone. The world has presented you with one helluva problem, but you are strong enough to be your own solution.
But until then you've got a long road ahead of you. It's a dark, shady, lonely road, but it'll end one day, like all roads do. All roads, happy or sad—end somewhere. And yours will end here, in Royce Manor, just where it started. Someday.