I kind of enjoy this chapter, and for an odd reason. While I was writing it I had NO IDEA what was going to happen. Usually I have everything planned out. This time it turned out in a way I never even expected. :D
Song for this Chapter: Faint → Linkin Park. Love this song. I think it's probably my favorite Linkin Park song. It's definitely a motivator. I probably want to attach this song to more than one chapter. Just because it's so good.
Disclaimer: once I publish this book, it will be mine. Until then, ummm… . well whatever.
In the last chapter...
Romeli arrived home after her long two month ordeal of Scanran servitude. James, of course, is still in his translucent state…not sure of himself. Romeli, meanwhile, is having a hard time adapting, considering she feels that time had moved quickly without her, and she had arrived to something completely different.
And as if she doesn't have enough on her hands, her guardians addressed her with another mission towards acquiring her third and final guardian. She must look back in her memories to find the meaning of the absurd scars on her neck before it's too late—and too late seems to be coming just around the corner.
Oh…and somehow green tapestries and a heroine ball are involved in this as well.
Chapter 41: Failure
Time was moving too quickly for her feet to catch up with. She stumbled often, once again getting engulfed in unleashed snow. Each time it was harder to resurface, harder to throw herself up and continue. And each time she failed—each time she knew she would fail, and yet she carried on each night with such constant determination that she would build a block of frustration to add to her emotions the following day.
She threw the trunk against the snow-compact wall. Empty.
Once again, she knew that somehow she would carry herself on to worse horrors than the previous. It was appalling, and she was thankful that she had refused to let her mind make up something worse after James' body.
Surprisingly she dropped to her knees among the shards of ancient wood that used to be the chest. The snow began to soak her knees and then chill her hands, and then it was melting against the slight warmth of her cheek. Rooted. She could not go farther. The pain and anguish that usually lapped only at the peripherary of her dream now thawed and dragged her down with the frosty tide. She feared she would not be able to resurface.
She failed. She had actually failed. Whatever it was that she was fighting time to find had passed and left her behind with wrenching interior and cataclysmic consequences. It was too late, and the anguish that consumed her was iced with dread. For what could possibly happen to her now—what could possibly make matters worse then what they already were? She tried to grasp what little peace she had left, but it evaded her.
She had failed a lot lately. Whenever it was something important, some required duty that called for her utmost attention at all costs, she had failed. It was the war, saving her father, escaping her slavery, and now this…this. All of them had been tests, and all of them she had failed.
Now the failures built up. The high tide arrived.
She had drowned.
OOO
Her scream the next morning woke her up.
Romeli's eyes widened and she clasped her hand over her mouth to quiet herself, hoping her parents hadn't heard.
Against any influence from her nightmare, she was covered in sweat, and she had to peel the blanket off of her to cool herself down.
Then the aftermath hit.
She clutched her heart and winced as it thudded, stuttered, and then picked up double time. It was challenging to see—her vision was clouded by her own tears.
Holy cow. There was no way she could have dreamed that up on her own.
Romeli bit her lip as she tried to fight back her shudders of horror—of fear. It was extremely significant. Whatever happened in her nightmare had changed. It was important.
But it didn't make any sense.
That overwhelming sense of failure had eaten her through—it was devastating, and yet here she was, breathing, living, alert. Here she had expected some sort of high end disaster. She was definitely still alive.
Or perhaps it had no significance whatsoever?
As much as the thought was comforting, she knew it was merely that. From how she felt, she knew that the day had commenced as it always did. All that she could conclude was that she was not too late, but that time was coming up short—an interior warning.
With that single theory, she nearly sprung out of bed, willing to do everything she could to make sure that for once she could do this right. She would do anything in her power, even ditch the ball if she had to.
Oh shit. The ball.
Romeli sighed in frustration. It was tonight.
You have to go. The voice in her mind that always seemed to influence the outcome of her decisions and reasoning had submerged.
Okay, let's think. Ball, or saving the world? I think the latter had its priority.
Jonathan said you had to.
Well…Jonathan can kiss my as—
So you're just going to ditch your ball? You're hero ceremony?
I wouldn't be living up to my "hero status" if I didn't prepare myself for this. It's the beef.
But…don't you always eat the appetizers before the main course?
Romeli's brows furrowed. What are you implying?
Well a side salad is an appetizer isn't it?
Not if it's on the same plate as the beef.
Well then it wouldn't be much of a side salad.
That's beside the point! I need to figure this out so that I can get my third Guardian!
And protect your country?
That too! The world is going to end if I don't do something!
But how do you know the world is going to end?
I…
Exactly. Your Guardians never specified. You have no proof the world if going to end. It could be anything.
But it will be epic.
Sure, sure. Most likely. But my point is that it could be anything. Your nightmare-whatever said you were running out of time.
Suddenly reason dawned on her. The ball is tonight.
Spot-on.
So I do need to go to the ball. Her hands were beginning to shake. Until now, she never had anything concrete. And now…tonight? It seemed an impossibility.
So eat your beef and side salad at the same time.
Okay great. But what am I looking at here? Assassination? Time-warp?
If her reasoning was a physical figure, it would have shrugged. Use your imagination.
She gulped.
Good luck with tonight.
Romeli ran her hand through her hair and grabbed the back of her chair to hold on to as she trembled. The ball.
Well she still had no idea what was going to happen, so preparing for it gave her a slight fault. The only aspect that comforted her was her Gift—for she knew that if she couldn't protect herself, then she could at least protect the other people.
And yet none of it really made sense. Of course it was applicable that whatever this climax was, it would be at the ball. But her Guardians said she had to look back in her memories, find the meaning of her scars, and determine and prepare herself for what would happen in the future. She couldn't imagine what memory could help her at a hero-ball, and she certainly did not find the meaning to the scars on her neck.
Well, it's best to give it a short.
Without realizing it, she turned around and found herself planted in front of her long mirror.
Oh Gods…she winced. I need a makeover.
OOO
"I'm really glad you're letting me do this," Ryoku said as she plopped Romeli down in front of her makeover station and started toying with her hair. "I mean as your friend, I would tell you if something looked wrong about you. I sort of mentioned it before, the last time you came over. But…I don't think you need a makeover."
Romeli turned around in the chair to look at Ryoku as if she had gone crazy. "Have you seen my face?"
She laughed. "Well you have to let me finish. I don't think you need a makeover, I think you need a fresh start."
"Fresh start…?" She liked the way the words felt on her lips, and yet she knew that that could not be possible. She decided to play along anyways. The need of her makeover made priority.
"Exactly. Oh wow. Your hair has gotten long."
She was right. It now fell to the middle of her back in light wisps—never curling enough to be classified as wavy, but not straight either.
"Hmmm…and your bangs have grown out as well. We'll have to change that…"
Romeli sighed. She was desperate to get her mind off of her other problems, and thus welcomed whatever surprise her friend would concoct from her hair. "Just have your way with me then."
Ryoku took a brush and a pair of scissors from a small drawer. She grinned. "Will do."
What felt like half an hour later, Ryoku had finished. Though Romeli had been watching the whole time, it was only after she had finished that she got the whole picture. Her hair had been cut shorter again to just below her shoulders, and stylized to frame her neck and bangs. Said bangs had been changed completely. They now curled in a single flip down her forehead, and ended at the base of her brows—undoubtedly to accent the green in her eyes.
Romeli smiled. "I like it. It's…different."
Ryoku laughed. "Not really. I got the idea from my hair." She gave it a good hair flip before laughing again.
"Oh. Well. Glad to see your creative side, then." Romeli gave her a smart glance through the mirror, making Ryoku slap her shoulder playfully.
"Better not get on my bad side," she said pointing her finger at her. It was an empty threat, but Romeli silenced herself anyways. "We're not finished with the makeover yet. Now if you don't mind…" She motioned to the pile of hair that encircled the both of them.
Romeli kept her smart remark to herself as she brought out her Gift through a single hand and snapped her fingers once. The balls of emerald hair vanished in small puffs of smoke.
"Where'd you send it?"
"A wig factory." Her reply was blunt, making Ryoku snort.
"Well then. Makeup." She grinned excitedly. "Well…you have a bruise…still. Oosh." She winced. "That's a brutal scar on your chin. What's that from?"
Romeli shrugged it off. "No idea." It was the truth. She had too many scars to remember their orientations these days.
"Oh. Well all right. Can't you make it go away? Or something?"
"I guess I could try…" She wasn't very good with fading scars with her healing power in a short spans of time. Usually her scars would fade within a month with the help of her Gift continually supplementing it. Despite her doubts, she gave it a try anyways. The bruise was easy to take care of—she was just too lazy and tired to heal it in the first place. The scar was more difficult and took more of her Gift. She pushed her healing magic into the damaged tissue and willed it to healthiness. When she had finished, her skin was glowing.
"Good. You also got rid of that blemish. That was bugging me as well."
Romeli glared.
Ryoku put her hands up. "All right, all right, I'll drop it. Let's get to work on those eyes of yours." She picked up her eye brush and got to work.
As Ryoku accented and featurized her face with the focus of a mastermind at work, Romeli was reminded of every blemish, trouble spot, scar, bruise, and cut that had crossed her face over the past couple of months. Physically, it was relieving to see a clean slate—at least temporarily. But in the interior, what was contained in her thick skin was a different story. She knew that no amount of makeup could ever mask away the trauma…it wasn't nearly that simple. She dreaded what people would think of her when she descended the stairs, traumatized, withdrawn. It was a fact that she was conscious of her hollow look and behavior—and though she tried to push away from it, it always crept up on her. But what would people think of that change? Would she get shame or respect?
And in the end, she reminded herself that it didn't even matter. It was absolutely essential, and absolutely an impossibility for her to keep her mind on one thing only: the beef. How could she even possibly be concerned with her own looks when at the height of what she had been waiting for? But none of it made any sense. Any clue that she could muster that lead to this ceremony…was sporadic and didn't add up with the rest. It was disheartening, it was dreadful. But most of all, it was terrifying. For she knew in her gut that many people would be there—and therefore many people to protect.
Her hands began to shake. She held them tightly to her sides so that Ryoku would not notice as she finished up.
"There. What do you think?" Ryoku stepped out of the way so Romeli could look at the mirror.
Clean slate.
She sighed. "I love it." And she did. She could see no place with too much makeup. No sight of a worry line or tired eyes. But it did not make her feel better either. It did not change how she felt, or what people would think. And most of all, she didn't really care either. It was still Romeli—despite the façade.
"Darn gorgeous," whispered Ryoku as she shook her head. "I had the intent of making you the spotlight of the ball—as it should be of course—but wow."
Romeli smiled at her friend's compliment. "It's not my doing, it's yours." And she had to admit…the perfect shadowing of her eyes, the coal black liner and long lashes…the soft maroon of her lips…it took her breath away. "Ever thought of being a designer? It would suit you nicely."
"Oh please." She biffed at the idea. "I am a knight, not a cheeky flirt of a clothesmaid." Ryoku chuckled to herself.
Romeli dropped the subject instantly.
Ryoku wiped her hands on a towel. "So…need anything else?"
"Actually…yes." Romeli stood up from her chair and stood across from her friend. "Do you have a dress I could borrow?"
Ryoku's eyes bulged. "A…dress?"
Romeli was confused. "Isn't that what you usually—."
"Don't kid with me, Romy!" she interrupted with an exasperated expression. "You don't even have a dress?! This is your ball!!"
Romeli blinked. "I have dresses. Just not—."
"Just not any good enough for this one? Perfect." She wrung her hands as she thought of what to do. Eventually she looked back up at her friend. "You know, you could have addressed this to me a week ago. Then it would have been finished by now."
Romeli nearly laughed at the grim humor. "I got back four days ago."
"That's pushing it, but it still could have been finished."
"I found out about the ball a day ago."
"Yeah…well…so?"
"So…can't I just borrow one of yours?"
Ryoku frowned, now deep in thought. It was obvious that she hadn't fumbled over that idea until now. "I guess that could work." She walked around her friend in focused evaluation. "We're pretty much the same size."
With that single fact alone, she walked over to her closet and slid it open with the determination of a lion on the prowl.
Romeli's eyes widened. "How…who…what? How in the world do you have so many dresses?"
Indeed, Ryoku's closet was stuffed to the brim with dress after dress. All of them were different colors, and all of them different styles. It was exhilarating, but at the same time it was also horrifying.
"Ethan likes buying dresses for me," she said simply. "And…so do James and Tim."
Romeli's heart did a double-take. She ignored it. "Well. It's quite impressive," she noted honestly. "I don't think I could ever muster up such an assorted wardrobe."
"I like dresses," she replied simply. "So. Let's narrow down the possibilities. No purple, yellow, or orange—they'll clash and make you look like a demented parrot."
Romeli snorted.
"So that leaves us with white, green, brown, blue, grey…black would look nice…"
Romeli shook her head. "No blue—too much chaos. And grey makes me look pale."
Ryoku nodded in agreement. "Do you think brown would look too woodsy?"
Romeli shrugged. "I don't mind woodsy. As long as the dress doesn't have tree prints all over it."
Ryoku laughed. "All right…no tree prints. Oh! Oh Gods! Perhaps we could do something to bring out that wicked scar on your neck."
Romeli's eyes widened. "No! Er…I mean no. No scar accenting."
Ryoku looked at her oddly. "All righty then…"
With the assorted color ideas in mind, Ryoku dove into her dress closet, determined to resurface with something fancy for the appointed heroine to wear.
It took only a little over five minutes to fish out five dresses—thanks to Ryoku's color/preference system.
After laying them all out on the carpet, Ryoku motioned for her to take a look at them.
"I don't think I'm going to wear white…" she thought allowed. "I'll feel like I'm getting married."
That left her with a brown one, two green ones, and a black one.
"I don't think I'm going to wear black either. I wore black last time, and people thought I was hardcore."
Ryoku snorted. "I remember that!" She laughed again at the memory. "You did look pretty intense…"
Romeli shrugged it off, trying not to laugh.
"So that leaves us with green and brown."
"Well…I rather like green…"
Ryoku shook her head. "Surprise, surprise."
"Oh shush," she replied, waving her off. "And the brown one is pretty."
Ryoku nodded in agreement. "Would you like to try it on?"
Romeli's face lit up. "Of course."
After minutes of fumbling with the contraption, Romeli was finally standing in front of the full length mirror, turning about to get a full view. Ryoku stood next to her with her hand to her chin, deep in thoughtful observation.
Finally, she came to a conclusion. "You look like a tree."
Romeli laughed and couldn't help but agree with the comment. "A pretty tree."
"A very pretty tree."
"Should the tree go to the ball as a tree?"
Ryoku dodged that question like a Carthakian Prince in court. "What's that?" She squinted to get a closer look. "Oh my Gods, is that an arrow scar?"
Romeli cursed the knight instructor that so wonderfully seemed to have taught her friend scar identification. It would take a long leap to jump out of the situation—and so she decided to just avoid lying altogether. "Umm…sorta." Damn. So much for the truth tactic.
Ryoku gave her the look.
"I mean yes."
"It's right over your heart…" she trailed off, not able to find a way to complete her sentence. Her tone had a mix of disbelief and concern.
Romeli averted her eyes towards the ground. "I'm glad to see you can identify anatomy."
She ignored the remark completely. "And you survived that?"
Romeli almost went into another laughing fit, but she held herself together. Survive an arrow through the heart? Haha…
"Not…really."
Ryoku was beginning to get confused. "But…you're alive."
She looked down at her hands. "I guess I am, aren't I."
The look of confusion grew. Her voice had a tenor of horror. "You're not telling me something."
Romeli sighed with frustration. She was deliberating on whether to dodge out the door—since she had everything she needed, knocking her out, or actually telling her. And it wasn't that it was a big 'take it to the grave' secret or anything. She just wasn't sure if recalling the experience was best for her at the moment.
"Listen Ryoku," Romeli explained. "When I escaped, I got knocked out." Which was putting it lightly. "So I don't really remember. I don't know about that arrow thing, or the scars around my neck…it's all a blank."
Ryoku nodded slowly. "So it wasn't a delicate axe then…"
"Hahaha. No, it wasn't."
"My brother has absolutely no talent in making up stories."
Romeli forced the picture of him out of her mind and smiled in agreement.
"Well we can't wear this dress then. It does make you look tan, but it brings out the scars too much. No tree for you."
She was absolutely fine with that. And actually, she was more than fine, she was eternally thankful that Ryoku was probably ignoring all the interrogating questions running through her head.
"So green it is then?" Romeli asked.
Ryoku laughed. "Green it is. I don't think it would have been right with any other color."
Romeli smiled bitterly. "It's always green. I'm always…green."
Ryoku didn't deny it. "But you do have to consider what you're dressing up for. I mean sure, you look the best in green, but that isn't the only reason. Green is your color. When people say Romeli, people think green. I kind of think of it as a representation. Corus' colors are scarlet and gold, Queenscove is green and black. Yours is green. But not like a lime green or grass green…but forest or minty… a frosted emerald somehow."
Romeli motioned for her to continue.
"Well my point is that since you're going to be appointed heroine of Tortall etc, etc, you should be who you are and wear green."
Romeli nodded. "Sounds good to me."
Ryoku froze. "Wait. No snarky remark? No objection to common sense? That's so unlike you."
Romeli shrugged. She didn't exactly know what was like and unlike her anymore. "It seemed like a good enough reason to me. So we pick a dress then?"
Ryoku was still slightly alarmed by the sporadic behavior. "Um…choose away."
Romeli examined the two emerald finalists. The minute she laid eyes on them however, she knew which one she would wear. She pointed to it immediately. "That's the one."
Ryoku nodded. "Let's try it on, then."
It slid on perfectly, like the dress had been made personally for her. When she looked in the mirror, it actually made her look forward to the evening—logic that was incredibly foolish, disturbing, and stupid.
Ryoku shook her head, obviously proud of herself. "I knew there was good in getting that dress."
OOO
A suspicious shadow in the left corner, unnoticed by everyone. The assassin draws the arrow towards the king.
An attack from the outside. Half the city is already in flames as the invasion commences.
The award triggers a bomb. All of Corus could evaporate in an instant.
Scanra seeks revenge. Numerous amounts of mages come to attack.
A glitch in virtual life balance. Perhaps the most climactic Chaos Thoughts to be experienced.
An alternate dimension tears—time warp.
The Gods are unhappy. A war commences between all the realms.
Chaos Escapes.
Romeli sighed in frustration as she put down her pen. Her list of possible dangers stared back at her mockingly. They just seemed to be getting more and more abstract.
She shrugged and picked up her pen. Instantly beginning to write the first disaster sequence that came to mind.
Roof collapses.
Civil war.
Trees attack.
World rips in two.
Mass murder.
Captivation.
Gift-sucking…thing.
Killer tornado.
Milkshakes.
She set the pen down again, the creases on her forehead pronounced in frustration.
Breathe.
This is ridiculous…
What you're doing won't even help…
There's no way you can get prepared in time.
She propped her elbow on her desk and began to massage her temple. A headache was starting to form, but it quickly faded when her hand made contact with her head. She leaned back in her chair again.
"I could use a little help here!" she cried to the ceiling in exasperation. Her hands were shaking as she looked around the room—hoping and so convinced that some sign, some call, or a Guardian would be her savior.
No reply came.
And of course she half-expected such an outcome, but it still hit her hard. She understood that her Guardians couldn't do everything for her—but didn't they owe her? Hadn't she survived this long? Didn't she just get through one of the biggest ordeals of her life—an ordeal that, they said, didn't even go as planned? They owed her—at least a little push in the right direction.
She folded the paper in half and pushed it out of the way. None of those scenarios even made sense. Sure, some of them would be possible—but it was all so…uneven. There would be nothing leading up to that specific event, and all this time her guardians had been pressing the importance of clues. She couldn't even find any evidence—what was she even supposed to be doing?
But she also knew that whatever happened, it would be okay. Though the possibilities of danger many, and the choices of curing it few, she could do it. And she of course knew in the back of her mind her main priority: protecting the people.
And it wasn't because putting them in danger would lower her heroic reputation, or that she always wanted to be seen as one who sacrificed for the greater good. It was merely because what she was going to be dealing with was otherwordly—and it was her own problem.
The people who were to be attending, she decided, she would protect at all costs. In the end she really didn't care about her own life in the situation—because those people were absolutely innocent—they had no business in what she was going to be dealing with.
And of course she felt all right with that. She knew she could protect them—she would do anything in her power. She had her Gift, her plant magic, wild magic, and whatever else she had in her pocket at the time. It would all make them safe…it would all get them out. And…well, whatever energy she had left would be used in accomplishing the real task—no matter what.
But what if what she was dealing with did not involve innocent lives at stake? What if it was something more?
And what could it possibly be then? She began to turn on herself, drilling questions she knew she couldn't answer.
It could be anything.
Well yeah. That's obviously clear.
But what about your defense? What if magic doesn't work?
She froze at that. It has to…
Fate doesn't have to do anything.
Well…I have my weapons. I have my Guardians. I have Sharpfang and Shadowdancer, and—
But do you have the will?
She could feel herself begin to snap with anxiety. She was tired from lack of sleep, walking through memories, and social outings, the laughs, the normality was still accomplished with effort—it was draining.
Do I have the will? I was under containment for two months! I've been beaten, tortured, toyed with, heartbroken, and killed. I have the will.
Her breathing leveled when she realized what she had been doing.
Arguing with self. Definitely not a good sign.
"Gods," she whispered heavily. "What am I doing?"
Looking at the candle that marked the hours, she noted that it was half past six, and thus time to get ready.
The breathless dress was placed on her bed, and she stared at it with anticipation, but mostly dread. Still, all the while, she couldn't believe she had wasted three hours writing pointless situations on paper.
They had no use whatsoever with what she believed to be dealing with.
OOO
She had no idea what was going on in the ballroom.
And that was completely unacceptable.
As she continually examined the main ballroom entrance that would soon lead her to her descending destination, a multitude of scenarios raced through her head. They flew by quickly, each of them hitting her, but none of them within full consciousness—her mind was working too quickly.
What if everyone is already dead when I get in there?
What if it already happened?
What if I'm too late?
What happens if I can't do it?
What if I fail again?
Her hands began to shake.
The doorman that would be her portal to awareness of what was going on, noticed her nerves coming from a different reason.
"Are you nervous?" His eyes were soft, his voice soothing.
Romeli looked up at him, her eyes slightly wide in alarm. "Oh…yes…very." She gave him a shaky smile.
He gave her a warm smile in return. "There's no reason to be so."
She almost guffawed.
He continued. "The stairs and the watching may seem daunting at first, but just think of what you're receiving. It's well worth it."
Romeli didn't exactly agree with him, but didn't lead on that she thought so. "I'm just nervous…I…have a thing with tripping down stairs."
He lightly chucked. "In those shoes and that dress, I would imagine so. Just keep an eye on where you're going. I've been opening this door for twenty years; I've seen it all. Only a handful have ever faltered."
Twenty years. She was quite impressed.
"Two months in Scanra." He whistled in awe. "If you succeeded in that, this should be like frolicking in the gardens for you."
She shuddered and laughed at the same time, creating an uncomfortable sensation in her spine. She was shocked that word had gone around so quickly—quicker than an epidemic. It was horrifying.
The doorman's voice cut into her thoughts. "Well, it's time."
A new level of dread overcame her.
He opened the door and motioned for her to descend. "Best of luck to you."
She held onto his words tightly as she walked past him. The room, lavishly decorated in green, was but a blur to her. Her head was swimming in thought after thought, emotion after emotion. But despite the inner chaos, her body was placid as it descended smoothly—working on its own accord. The only feature that noted her fear was her eyes—chaotic and drowning, its colors rotating more sporadically than usual.
"Introducing Romeli Salmalin."
The voice seemed to be coming from all directions. She couldn't place the face of the speaker, and it annoyed her. The resulting claps were drowned out by her thoughts, yet so distracting.
She tried to be discrete as possible as she looked out of the corners of her eyes for any possible dangers. The essence of her Gift pulsated throughout her, rippling under her skin at the ready. There was no doubt that she looked tense as she finished the descent and walked towards the king—but it didn't matter; people would only consider it as the presence of her nerves.
Breathe.
She exhaled deeply, trying to shake away the tension. Something didn't feel right—but it was because she couldn't find anything wrong at all.
She walked up a short couplet of stairs to the risers, filling the concluding space between her and the king. He was staring at her intently, looking more excited than she was. She stopped a few feet in front of him, attempting to ignore the hundreds of eyes on her as she focused on something of far more importance.
This isn't right. The hair on the back of her neck, her back facing the crowd, did not feel right. All she could see was the head table. And along with that, all the other places where blocked by tapestries—she was virtually blind from danger.
Her hands shook. She would have to trust herself fully on instinct.
Jonathan noticed her panic and looked at her oddly. She blinked to try and find some composure. At last he cleared his throat. His voice was hesitant at first, but grew stronger as he continued.
"Romeli Salmalin. Over the course of the past year, you have shown acts of nobility and character that have been notable to all of Tortall's society. It is tonight that we thank you for your honorable actions and bravery."
A loud applause followed.
Within the applause, Jonathan gave her another odd look. What's wrong? he mouthed with a crease in his brow.
Romeli took in a sharp intake of breath. What was wrong? Something is going to happen, she mouthed back. The shaking in her hands grew more severe. She clasped them in front of her, so only Jonathan could see. Actually saying it made it real—it made it hit.
His frown deepened, but the applause subsided. He had to continue.
He cleared his throat a second time. "Now, as required by the ceremony, I will recite your noble acts in official formality."
At this, he took out a scroll from his breast pocket and unrolled it. Romeli's eyes widened. It was long. Great.
"Curing the plant virus epidemic during your trek to Corus. Healing and caring for all the animals you came across. Your kind and welcoming character to those you know and don't know, and your loyalty to your friends. Your priceless assistance in fortifying and protecting Northwatch in a time of need. Bringing both your father and the head mage of Tortall back to life. Rescuing myself, your family, and the most important people of Tortall from kidnapping during the battle. Sacrificing yourself for eternity as a slave of Scanra for our freedom. Literally stopping a war and thus bringing peace to Tortall and Scanra. Your sacrifices and fights during your captivity. Your pride and wits whilst searching and working a tactic of escape from one of the darkest fates anyone could be put under. Escaping captivity through one of the most challenging missions in slave history, and then fighting for your life while all of us thought you to be lost."
Romeli couldn't help it. She snorted.
Jonathan gave her a look, but ignored her. "And finally, re entering into your life with utmost honesty and perseverance. Romeli Salmalin, do you accept the vastness of your actions, and thus your newly appointed title as Heroine of Tortall?"
Romeli blinked. I wonder what would happen if I said no…
Jonathan appeared to read her thoughts. His eyes narrowed.
She sighed inaudibly. "I do."
He looked pleased with himself. "Then I, King Jonathan IV of Conté appoint you, Romeli Salmalin as the newest heroine of Tortall."
Jonathan then took a case from behind his back and opened it in front of her. Inside was a medal with the Tortallan crest inside a lining ring of emerald. He carefully removed it from its container and held it in front of her, about to put it on.
Romeli flinched.
Jonathan faltered. What?
I can't wear that!
You're being ridiculous.
But…
He placed the medal around her neck. It fell heavily on her chest. "Calm down Romeli. You deserve this." His voice in her ear was nearly inaudible, but fully comprehensible. He stood up straight.
And then the applause hit.
It roared through the hall, but her ears felt stopped up. She was in a daze.
I didn't explode…
The whole situation seemed ridiculous now. And yet, she knew she couldn't give in—it wasn't over yet. She glared at the king as she curtsied.
He laughed as he bowed back. At last he turned back to the crowd. "Let the ball begin!"
The first people to come up to her were her parents. They were hesitant—obviously aware of her withdrawal, her screams in the morning, her unwillingness to talk to them openly anymore. It made Romeli feel a little guilty as the two parties closed the distance between each other. She never meant to alienate them from her—but they also couldn't understand—and she didn't want to try and make them. She would always look up to them—always go to them for help—but that didn't mean that she could ever confront them with what she was facing.
"Romeli!" Daine came over and gave her a warm smile. Her eyes had aged, but her excitement for her was genuine. "Congratulations!"
Romeli hugged her with thanks as she smiled. She tried to stay conscious of her social position, but she couldn't. She was too paranoid.
"Romeli?" Daine's excitement morphed into concern. "You look really pale. Everything all right?" Her father too had the same expression, but he was weary, he knew the answer before she would say it.
But instead of saying what she usually said, she changed it around. She wanted her parents to think she was okay. Even if she wasn't, she wanted them to think so.
Romeli gave them a weak smile. "You know, I can go beat any opponent with my bladed staff, stop a war, and manage to escape an eternity of slavery with all my appendages." At here she looked down to hide the pain in her face. It hurt to mention it so lightheartedly—like all that she did had been simple and easy. She bit it back and looked up again, her expression clear. A smile grew on her lips that reached her eyes. "But Gods…that whole crowd thing. I'm not cut out for that."
The tension in the air broke at her words. Numair actually chuckled. His ease made her heart complete itself and break at the same time. She loved his laugh.
Daine gave her a pat on her shoulder. "That's understandable." She laughed as well. "Alanna says she hates the crowd also. Seems like you two are into the dirty work."
Romeli rolled her eyes. "Some of us aren't into battling our eyelashes like a buffoon. Me and Alanna are strong-willed individuals."
"Better believe it," grumbled a voice from behind her.
Romeli turned around to come face to face with her aunt. She wore a scarlet dress that she looked none to happy to be in. George was standing behind her, absolutely beaming.
"Come here you." Alanna gave her a big bear hug, making sure that Romeli was completely disoriented before letting go. "Welcome to the heroine club. The initiation sucks, but that's all over and done with now."
"Hey," George cut in, elbowing his wife. "You liked yer initiation."
"Oh so did not," she retorted. But then she turned to him and looked up fondly. "I liked the night corresponding to the initiation." She winked.
Romeli's eyes widened. "Okay wow." She turned to her aunt, horror plastered on her face. "You're ugly and old. I don't need to hear about any of your initiations."
Alanna grinned. "I knew there was a reason I always liked you."
Before Romeli could reply, George had her in his arms, slowly crushing her in a hug that made Alanna's feel like a butterfly kiss.
"You never cease to amaze me, you little thing you," he said clasping her shoulder. "Maryann briefed me on everythin'. And lemme tell you. You make some of my best spies look like cream puffs. That escape sequence? Well okay, I guess it didn't exactly go as planned, but still…amazing! Ever thought of joinin' the team?"
Romeli nearly laughed. "I don't think I'd camouflage very well. And it was mostly Maryann's planning anyways."
"True. But we're talkin' performance here. And I'm not exactly supposed to mention her in front of Alanna. She's still a tinge irritated that I kept the secret from her for—."
"Seventeen years," she grumbled in annoyance. Romeli almost laughed again at their half-hearted bickering.
"Precisely."
"Well…," cut in Romeli with slight hesitance. "I'm going to go…" she stepped to the side and bid them farewell before dodging into the crowds.
Flawless. The escape made her proud.
It was nerve-wracking. She had no idea what or when…and it was even worse that she had let her guard down so easily like that. It was disappointing, but it also kept her more on her guard now. She had taken a chance and was lucky that no one had gotten hurt because of it.
Well it won't happen again, she assured herself with a positive nod.
"Romeli!!"
She whipped around at the sound of her name. The tone of it would, in lighter circumstances, be welcomed with surprise and a fist full of giggles, but with her at such a level of paranoia, she thought it was a warning—a danger.
Her Gift was glowing in her hands, eyes wide as she looked around.
"I'm over here, stupid."
Romeli frowned and looked towards the voice. Her Gift immediately retreated. "Laloria?"
Her sister walked up to her excitedly and gave her a tight hug. "The one and only." She laughed. "Congratulations."
Romeli thanked her, but waved off the whole 'honoring heroine' thing. She had more pressing questions to ask. "When did you get back? Don't tell me you've been here the whole time." And Romeli was curious. She had missed her sister almost as much as she had missed her friends. But even now, it was hard to concentrate. Her mind was torn between excitement to see her sister, and a promise to her duties. She had to choose the latter.
"I only got back this afternoon." Her sister informed her. "When I heard about the ball, I had to leave my Rider group and come back to congratulate you."
Romeli smiled. "Well, I am quite flattered."
She laughed as a reply. "As you should be. I put myself in danger traveling alone just to see you."
Romeli snorted. Yeah. Danger.
"By the way," Laloria started softly, her eyes had narrowed mischievously. "You seem to be the spotlight of tonight. Everyone is staring at you."
She blinked. "Laloria…the ball…was held for me." She spoke slowly, in case her sister had lost more then her common sense.
"Oh I know that," she said waving her off. "What I meant to say is that every boy is admiring you."
Romeli frowned and peeled her eyes away from her sister's. She could feel the eyes on her everywhere. In the corner, she saw a young man who looked to be a squire, check her out.
Romeli shrugged it off—she didn't have the capacity or the time to wonder why or who bothered in staring. "New haircut."
"Hardly," her sister replied dryly, but she dropped the subject.
Romeli clasped her hands in front of her uneasily. She needed another escape plan.
"So…how was Scanra?" Her sister asked the question hesitantly, obviously unsure of whether she was on safe ground or not.
Romeli twitched. "Well…I'm not sure." She let out an uneasy chuckle. "It wasn't bad or un...fun. It was just…Scanra." Hopefully the answer would be sufficient. She hadn't the time to concentrate on a more analytical reply.
"Ah. I understand."
From the looks of it, she didn't understand at all.
She felt horrible trying to ditch her sister—a sister she hadn't seen since she saved her from the kidnapping, but it was something that was necessary.
"Listen, I'm sorry, Sis." Her apology was genuine. "But I think Neal is calling me over. Could we talk later?"
Laloria rose her brows. "Oh goodness, Romeli, of course. I'll let you go. We have all the time in the world to talk."
The pit of dread in the depths of her stomach doubled over. She could only nod tersely.
Romeli walked away as quickly and yet as normally as possible. She walked towards Neal, who was deep in conversation with Whave's father, Faleron, knowing that Laloria could possibly be watching her. It was obvious that Neal wasn't looking for a private word at all. The guilt overwhelmed her.
When Neal noticed her discrete and yet purposeful walk towards them, he turned with a slightly surprised expression. It then transformed into a beam.
"Romeli! So wonderful to see you! Congratulations!" Nealan gave her a friendly pat on the back, making her slightly confused about his glowing attitude. "Did you…need a word?"
She blinked. "Ummmm…"
Neal disregarded her vacant reply and welcomed her into the conversation anyways. "I trust you have met Faleron of King's Reach?"
"We have been introduced before," said Faleron as he bowed. Romeli curtsied back politely, only half-listening to the conversation at hand as she concentrated on the orientation of her surroundings.
"You are friends with my son, are you not?" inquired Faleron. "Whave?"
Romeli blinked, not realizing she was being spoken to. "I'm sorry? Oh. Oh yes. Whave and I are good friends."
Faleron nodded like he already knew the answer. "He has said many things about you."
Romeli's stomach began to knot. Hopefully they were good things. She didn't exactly want to recall their last encounter. She decided to only give a hesitant smile in return.
And then Neal welcomed himself back into the conversation. "Well, I really must congratulate you again. It is a true honor to be given such a reward. Now you're right up there with your mother and aunt. I should be up there myself," he grumbled. Romeli nearly sighed with relief at seeing one of his normal characteristics. "I had to stomach a squirehood with Alanna. You try being her squire."
Romeli snorted. "Try being her niece."
Neal's eyes narrowed. "Touché. Even if she does absolutely adore you."
She didn't exactly have the proof to deny that.
But then his expression grew significantly darker, making her want to back away. Faleron noticed the change in his expression too and looked at the two of them uneasily.
"Romeli…" The tone of his voice almost made her sigh exasperatedly. "I was there in Scanra for a little bit of your stay, so I know, to an extent, some of the events that happened. But…what I'm trying to say is…you've changed. What happened in Scanra?"
So that would be the hit inquiry of the night.
There were so many ways that she could reply to that question. She could say to bugger off and leave her alone, which was a slight temptation. She could tell him that it was her personal business, or that she didn't feel comfortable, or even the truth if she were daring enough. But she didn't choose any of those options.
Romeli nodded. "You're right. I have changed. To me personally, I think I have changed for the better. I am strong, patient, cautious, and daring. A lot happened, Sir Neal—a lot that made me change. If you went through what I did you would change too."
He chewed over her words for a little, obviously expecting a different reply.
Faleron nodded. "Well put. There have been very few people kept under Scanran captivity who have lived to tell the tale."
Romeli's face screwed up in surprise. How did they escape?
Faleron seemed to read her mind. "They were miraculous people. Not powerful at all, one had no magic actually, and in reality, their circumstances and yours were a world apart. But that is beside the point. Both you and the others faced situations we would not dream of succeeding in. And from what I have heard of the other people was that it was incredibly traumatic. I doubt you could return from Scanran slavery without changing...permanently."
But Romeli didn't exactly hear his last line. She was still digesting the fact that there were others—not exactly like her, but close enough to send a wave of relief through her spine. There were others. And it was completely foolish—utterly illogical—to consider otherwise, and yet, she had always thought she was the only one. Finding out that other people could partially understand what she was going through gave her hope—it gave her something that she could compare to herself. And it was a little factor, yet his words helped immensely. For she had always thought that she alone had to carry the baggage, when really others had been beside her all along.
Neal was looking at her oddly. "Romeli, honestly, from the looks of it, you thought that you were the only one."
Romeli jumped out of her epiphany at the sound of his voice. "I think…" and her voice was slightly withdrawn as she said it. "I think that I knew there were others. It's common sense, really. I just hadn't realized that we were all sharing the same load."
Faleron gave her a slight smile. "I think your suitcase might be a little different."
Hate to interrupt this metaphorical suitcase discussion, butted in the consciousness of her mind. But aren't you supposed to be looking out for danger?
Romeli mentally kicked herself. Her ability to focus had certainly decreased to a whole new level. But instead of dodging away from the social contact like she had done previously, she decided to stay and attempt to handle both of her duties at once. She could not afford to let the cataclysmic event happen, but she also would not refuse to speak to anyone at her own ball either.
"My suitcase might have been different," agreed Romeli calmly. "But the conditions of Scanran slavery are universal."
Neal merely shrugged. "We do not have many Scanran specialists. I always enjoys a good read, but I barely know anything of their culture."
It was slightly foreign—the feeling of being able to talk of Scanra so serenely as she did now. It was troublesome.
"Overall, the cultures of Tortall and Scanra are not all too different," informed Romeli. "We worship the same Gods, eat three times a day, and venture through the same obstacles of knighthood. But we are different. Their idea of freedom and equality is that there isn't any. Sure, I have heard Maggur voice concern for his people, but at the same time, he ignores their pleas for help. They eat different food, they have different rights…the weather is much colder." She shivered. "At the moment their ideals are focused on power and extravagance, not humanity."
Neal nodded, rather fascinated with the information.
"Well it seems that one good thing has come from your stay in Scanra," mused Faleron appreciatively.
She laughed bitterly. And still as the conversation continued, she could sense no danger. Not even the hair on the back of her neck prickled.
"Not exactly true, Fal," countered Neal. "The death of the king as well—and the peace between our countries."
Faleron nodded. "That's right. The death, despite the state it puts Scanra in, was vital."
Romeli looked up at Faleron in alarm. "How did you know about that?"
Neal laughed. "Dear, how could anyone not know? It was reported officially around a week ago—though there had been rumors of his murder mere days after you escaped. Even though technically they have no proof that you committed the crime, your date of escape and his death practically correspond to each other internationally. Everyone knows you did it—but no one has proof either."
Romeli blinked. She didn't know whether to be furious or alarmed. "How come no one thought to bother me about this before?!" she hissed quietly. The impact was notable.
Faleron frowned. "Well everyone assumed…"
"And no one wanted to bother you with it either," added Neal gently. "You're always so distant. Like you have a lot on your plate."
Romeli's brows shot up and hid behind her bangs. So she hadn't been fooling anyone. "I…yes. I have been rather busy. But someone should have told me. It could have been useful to what I'm working on. Someone should have told me everything. Does everyone know this but me?"
Neal shook his head. "Not everyone. Most of the king's inner-circle have been informed. And all our news comes from spies still posted in Scanra who send the information to George. As for the public people…what they hear is just rumors. Even most people in Scanra do not know what's going on."
Romeli's impatience began to boil. This gave her a whole new reason to dislike the king. "So I'm not in the king's inner-circle, then? The person who did all the work? The person that this is all about?" She felt betrayed. By her family, her friends.
Faleron tried to calm her down. "See, the thing is that we did not want to bother you. You're coping, you're doing your thing. None of us wanted to make you worse. We thought we were being merciful. And the thing is—it doesn't really involve you at all."
Romeli opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her.
"Sure, yes, you did start it. But most of what is going on now is political. There are complications politically that involve his murder. Finding a new king for instance."
Romeli understood the reasoning, but she didn't buy it. "I still have a right to know." It could help her. For whatever reason she knew it could help her.
Neal sighed. "Then do you want to know everything?"
She nodded furiously.
"Then we can find a private room or something. If anyone overhears…"
Romeli shook her head. She could not afford to leave this room. "No we should stay here and talk in a corner. Neal can put up a muting spell…"
"Why can't you do it?" interjected Neal.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. I'll do it. Let's just go."
When they had arrived at a suitable corner, Romeli put a silencing charm around them, and an illusion spell to make it appear and sound like they were having a totally different conversation. She also put a warning charm in case things went awry.
And then she rounded on them, immediately demanding what had been kept from her for so long.
Neal decided to begin. For he could personally account the night of her escape. "Before your mission began, we knew that you had to murder him to fully acquire your freedom. All of us dreaded it—but Maryann assured us it was possible. And you did succeed, technically, despite what happened afterwards. And that night…when we picked up your body, I felt that the arrow had pierced straight through your heart…and the amount of blood. James was drenched in it—refusing to let you out of his sight. He was a real dedicated friend."
Romeli shivered. She was thankful. She was touched and honored. But she was also sad—sad he hadn't waited longer.
"We did everything we could. Alanna, I, my son, and a another healer all put our Gift into you, using all we had and even more to get you back—but we all knew that you had died. You were dead. There were no signs to counter it. Everyone was devastated. Many in the party did not know you personally, but they knew of you, of their mission to get your out—and that loss hit them hard. We did succeed—the king was dead and you were free—but we had all failed as well.
"And so with that low morale upon us, Jonathan informed the Queen—she was to arrange your funeral."
Romeli swallowed hardly.
And then Faleron cut in. "I was one of the first in Tortall to be informed, since nearly everyone else in authority was away or with you. Thayet and I, as well as Domiton of Masbolle—Kel's husband, I assume you know him, Neal's wife, and the prince, all worked together to assemble a rightful ceremony. We swore to secrecy until the party would came back. We didn't want to create an uproar or raise questions we had no answers to.
"We were to create a memorial in the gardens. It was going to be a rose garden…with a fountain and a statue of you looking into the distance—free. Your tomb would be right below it—unreachable by anyone once buried. We were to dedicate the entire month to your sacrifices, and the day that you died would be celebrated and mourned every year. The very tapestries that you see now were originally to commemorate your death. But when we heard that you were alive, we dropped everything…only we kept the tapestries, knowing they'd come to a more celebratory use."
Romeli chewed on the inside of her lip uncomfortably. While they spoke, she looked down, unable to take in their gaze. She couldn't speak—her throat had tightened up. And she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest either. She didn't have the temptation to hear of their pain and struggle…of James drenched in her blood…
Neal then spoke again. "Meanwhile, when we saw you alive we were…confused. It didn't make any sense. It still doesn't. Most of us didn't believe it…but then it just seemed so real. After you woke up the second time, we knew you were back. It was a miracle. And before I continue, I must ask you…do you know why you came back?"
Romeli shook her head. "I was hoping you had a theory."
He frowned in thought. "Well we have established a couple. One was that you were never dead in the first place—likely, and yet unlikely at the same time. Another is that the combination of mine, Alanna's, James', and the healer's Gifts, all of which are rather strong, brought you back—sort of like how you brought your father back. The last theory is that the merciful actions of the Gods took pity on you. All of them are likely, but we have settled on none of them."
Romeli could only nod, wide-eyed.
"And so the funeral was off. We knew by then that Scanra knew of your escape and the murder of the king. But we knew nothing more. We did not know if they would be out to look for you to avenge his death, or to recapture you. We did not know if they had appointed a new king—Maggur had no heir. We didn't even know if they thought you were dead or not. But either way, we decided to move faster for safety's sake. Meanwhile, you withdrew yourself. When we traveled, you would seem to be looking at nothing, and you would scream out at night…all of us understood that the slavery was tremendous, but we were scared. We still are. Romeli, you still do withdraw like that, and your parents say you scream every morning. Why is that?"
She sighed. They had told her this much information—she owed them. "I assure you both that my 'withdrawals' are not traumatic-based. I do have nightmares…but they are manageable. If you do see me in a withdrawn state, I am most likely meditating."
Faleron didn't believe her. "Looks like a painful way of meditation."
She would have turned on him, but she calmed herself instead. She needed this information. "It's a way of rebalancing myself. I go back…and extract the positives." It was only half a lie. She was reminded of her father's motto and philosophy: drink optimus. Hopefully the two of them would recognize it as a Salmalin tradition of coping.
It seemed convincing. Faleron nodded.
"Well nonetheless, that was the only reason we did not ask to include you into our meetings," Neal assured. "But now that you are so interested, we'll tell you the recent events."
Faleron decided to start. "So, as we've told you, it is internationally known that Maggur is dead and that you've escaped. Most have put two and two together and decided that you killed him, though there is no proof. Most people see you as a hero, for Maggur has caused problems with too many empires, but I'm sure that others don't agree.
"Meanwhile, Scanra is in a state of revolution. An underground protestant group is rejoicing the beginning of a new country, but many others are too scared to speak freely. There is no real official king until Maggur's inner-circle appoints a new one. Maggur was the last of his family name, and there is no live distant relative to take his place. This puts Scanra in turmoil, since basically anyone now can be king. It is Maggur's inner-circle's job to find the new one, but all of them are too busy basking in the thought of being king themselves to care."
Neal nodded an affirmative. "With no one to take control, people think it fine to do what they want. Many people of the protestant group have created invasions to try and win power, but the military force has its own plan—though they believe they can follow their own orders now. In reality, the protestant group has only made events worse.
"Obviously George is doing everything in his power to make things better, but Maryann has also been suspected of treachery and more Tortallan spies are being discovered. All of them have been ordered to act on the side of the government for their own safety. Tortall in the situation is pretty much powerless."
"Unfortunately there only seems to be one outcome," informed Faleron, unsure of whether to agree with it or not. "One of the members of Maggur's circle must rise to power. Most likely that member has the same views as Maggur did himself, which means no improvement as to Scanra's act on humanity."
Realization seemed to dawn on her. "Faleron…is the treaty still active between Tortall and Scanra?"
His features darkened. "Technically yes. But if the new king did decide to go to war again—a stupid decision considering the state of their country—there is nothing to stop him. Jonathan and Maggur signed the treaty in their own blood—a blood treaty. But Maggur is dead, and so is the royal bloodline. Therefore no consequence."
Romeli shook her head. "So all we can do is hope?"
"Pretty much," said Neal. "Though we doubt Scanra will go to war anytime soon. We'll take care of it when and if it happens. However, we do suspect that they know you're alive."
Romeli's eyes widened. "I thought you said they didn't know."
"They don't have proof. Considering they shot you with only a huge puddle of blood as the remains, they assumed you're dead. But think about it. All of Tortall knows you're alive, and I have no doubt there are Scanran spies in Tortall."
"But why did we have this ball then? Isn't it better if they think I'm dead?"
Faleron shook his head. "Would you like to live in hiding?"
Romeli recoiled at the thought.
"But you are wanted."
"Ha ha…what?"
Faleron didn't laugh. Immediately the humor of it collapsed. "You're wanted in Scanra. Dead or alive. They don't know you're alive, but they will probably find out in a day or two after tonight. Your charge is for escaped slavery…not murder. So they are being reasonable in the fact that they have no proof. As of right now, the price reward is not high—since they don't have the same drive as Maggur did to acquire you for power. You merely broke the law."
Merely…Romeli repeated the word in her head.
"And we doubt anyone in their right mind will come to look for you either," added Neal. "Most have heard of your power. People are singing the tale of the Forest Girl as we speak. No one would dare to capture you because…thanks to us…people like to exaggerate epic events such as these. And I don't think you'll be going to Scanra anytime soon."
Romeli nodded in understanding. "I see that I'm pretty much safe." Yea…pretty much. "But what about when the new King rises to power? What if he wants to finish what Maggur began?"
Neal and Faleron exchanged looks. "I don't think that anyone could have the same drive as Maggur," pointed out Faleron calmly. "But if he did try, he would undoubtedly fail. Our forces are strong, and you are stronger. In this case, Romeli, you can not be merciful."
She sighed heavily, but nodded in agreement. It would only be a slim chance that something like that happened anyways.
"So what do we do now?" she asked calmly. Her eyes shifted to the side to what she should be doing: watching. But all was well.
"There is not much," confessed Neal. "The spy force is powerless. We can not go to Scanra to settle the scene, either. We must wait for more word, and until the new king comes to power and we evaluate his position on the Tortall-Scanra relationship, we do nothing."
Romeli nodded. It was a start. She was thankful for all the information that she was given, knowing that in one way or another, it put her a step forward in figuring everything out. But still…waiting. Just…waiting.
"There is one more thing," started Neal quietly. "Since we have given you everything we know, you are welcome to attend the weekly meetings. I'm sure that, for whatever reason, the information would be helpful to you."
Romeli smiled weakly. "I appreciate the invitation. But…I think…I will decline your offer." At first she couldn't think of a reason why, but it clicked in her head. The king was there, her family, and she didn't know if she could handle that. "But if you could perhaps pass the information to me personally, I would really appreciate it. I just don't think meetings are a good idea for me right now."
Both Neal and Faleron nodded. They had learned not to ask questions. "One of us will come to see you once a week," Faleron assured.
The three of them shook on it. For once, Romeli actually felt supported with what she was doing. Of course the two of them had no idea of the depths of what she was dealing with—or even if it would happen tonight, but they were helping nonetheless.
Romeli dissipated the protective bubble of spells that engulfed them and the three of them walked together into the crowds where they went their separate ways.
After losing sight of both Faleron and Neal in the waves of crowds, Romeli finally let herself lay into complete focus on her true job.
"What were you talking to my father for?"
Romeli nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned around to face Ryoku. Her eyes were demanding but playful.
"Nothing important." She waved it away dismissively.
Her face screwed up skeptically. "Oh yeah. Especially because I could sense the magic muting your conversation from the opposite side of the room."
Her shoulders fell. She forgot that her Gift was prone to detection due to its power. From the corner of her eye she could see her father looking at her oddly. So much for fooling anyone.
And then it hit her.
I have no doubt that there are Scanran spies in Tortall.
If there were Scanran spies here, then that meant that they were surely in this room—or at least one would be. And if that one had a Gift…
They undoubtedly knew she was alive. Gift or no, the ball was thrown for her. They could not do anything to her…but her intuition squirmed when she thought of the possibility of being in danger all over again.
Romeli immediately turned back to the conversation and Ryoku's piercing eyes. It seemed that Whave, Sereem, Ethan, Tim, and…him…had all filled in during her reverie. Where had they come from?
"Okay you win," Romeli grumbled. "They were interrogating me." And it was true. They had asked her questions…just not as many as she asked them.
Whave looked confused. "I don't see why my father would be all that interested in your wellbeing. I mean, no offense or anything, but you two haven't really talked before."
Romeli smiled. "Oh no no…we weren't discussing me at all. We were discussing Scanran culture and politics." She yawned convincingly. "Let me tell you. It was quite the bore-fest. But they wanted me to keep it quiet because of the state Scanra is in."
Surprisingly, all of them nodded in agreement. So everyone knew of the revolution…
"And honestly, Tim, Ryoku," she addressed them both with a nod of her head. She didn't skip the other Queenscove because she was angry…but she couldn't handle it. Her voice would crack undoubtedly, and that was a weakness she could not accept. "Your father is smart and all, but…good Gods."
The two of them laughed. James was pulling at a string on his tunic.
"Well we're glad the torture is over," said Tim, who had obviously been through the same experience. "Oh. And congratulations."
Romeli smiled. "Thanks. I was really nervous. I'm glad the ceremony is over." She laughed.
There was a moment of hesitance as everyone but Ryoku looked at her oddly, obviously perplexed that she had admitted to two emotions in a single conversation and laughed afterwards.
"Hey, we'd feel the same too," voiced Ryoku with a smile. "Those types of initiations suck."
The rest of them couldn't say they agreed.
"Well then, what type of initiation are you interested in Ryoku?" inquired Ethan with raised brows. He put his hands on her hips and kissed the top of her head.
Ryoku laughed." Depends on what type of initiations you give."
Romeli looked away, not able to handle the happy emotions radiating from the two of them. From the corner of her eye, she could see James glaring at Ethan. Tim was looking away, ignoring it completely.
Whave was staring at her.
She looked at him. "What?"
"Oh." He looked embarrassed that he had been caught. "I was just thinking."
She was actually mildly curious. "About what?" Her voice proved the tenor of her interest.
"About how sorry I am."
Romeli blinked. Ethan and Ryoku let go and turned to them. Sereem and Tim exchanged looks and James looked up in alarm.
She sighed. "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything. I apologize."
He shook his head. "You're always taking the blame, Romeli. This time it was my fault."
She frowned. "You were trying to make a point. I'm the one that lost control. I may take the blame, but it's because I feel it was my fault."
"But you—."
"And anyways," she cut in. "I thought we established and impasse. If it's anyone's fault, it's no one's."
"Wait…what?"
Romeli laughed as well. "I dunno."
He shrugged. "Well I'm taking the impasse back."
She glared. "You can't take an impasse back! They're impasses!"
"I don't know about you guys," Whave said addressing the group. "But I don't think anyone ever wrote an impasse rule book."
She twitched. "Fine. Impasse obliterated."
"Well at least hear my reasoning."
She rose her brows.
"I don't deny that you sort of lost it. But in reality, I was the one who brought it up. I already knew about all the tapestries before I invited you. I pulled you out of that…bush…where you were…laughing…to see your reaction. I shouldn't have addressed you. I shouldn't have pushed you over the edge when I knew you were in such an unstable position. I'm sorry."
"You two had a fight over drapery?" Ethan was not amused.
Romeli glared at Ethan and then gave Whave a weak smile. "Apology accepted. But at the same time you sort of woke me up. I know, guys, that I've been acting…weird. I have a lot on my plate right now, believe it or not. I have things to do and sort out, and it's hard…and stressful…and traumatic…and totally not supposed to be accomplished by a sixteen year-old girl. And so…no…I haven't been okay. But I also apologize for letting it affect our friendship. And I'm working on it; I'm getting better at handling things and laughing about it at the same time. Am I okay right now? To be honest, not exactly." Her eyes shifted to the right, a bubble of fear rising through her. "But I still want to include you. I want to…I want to…to be friends…and…be okay…" A tear escaped her eyes. She brushed it away furiously.
Her body had totally betrayed her. What was she doing? The words had escaped her mouth before she had time to swallow them, and it was a mistake. She had said way too much, and now they would be concerned, they would ask questions, she would have to confess. She would have to talk and vent.
But considering it now, wasn't it nice to let it go? She actually felt lighter Lighter than when she had craughed, or talked to her Guardians. When she had confessed everything to Maryann, she had done it out of necessity, not personal preference.
Had she done this out of personal preference? As they walked towards her, giving her tight hugs and pats on this back, it sure seemed so. It felt so good to let it go and tell someone that she was there, but she was struggling. It felt so good to have that support. And it wasn't like she said much. She gave no specifics, no dark secrets or fears. It was just a reassurance that she was still their friend—still Romeli.
What if she did tell them though? About her Guardians, her mission, her problems. Their concern at first would be annoying, but surely it would get better. It would be like a close knit team. They would all love to help her. She knew they would. And their support alone would be enough. It would be like those other ex-slaves that seemed to help carry the load, but better, because these were her friends—her family.
When their hugs had finished, she laughed and shook her head. "Sorry. That was so sporadic of me."
They shrugged.
"We understand though," said Sereem. "I mean, it must have been a challenge to do everything by yourself."
She cracked a smile.
"What are you doing that makes you so busy?" inquired Sereem. "I can't possibly imagine…"
Her features darkened considerably. She looked around cautiously. The ball was weaning down to an end, and only a few groups of people, mostly people she knew, remained. Still, she thought it unsafe. "I will tell you all, I assure you. But…here? I don't consider it safe." She looked around again, but nothing suspicious came to her. "Not safe at all."
They nodded in understanding, knowing that whatever could possibly be on her mind was more than courtly gossip. Instead, they talked a bit more until the hour grew even later. Now only stragglers where left behind. The King and Queen were conversing with Neal. Her parents were talking to George and Alanna. Her sister had left hours ago, already packing to join her Rider group again.
"I think we better get going," announced Whave. The rest of her friends nodded. "Little Ryku has page school and we still have our duties." Ryoku glared.
Romeli nodded. "Of course. I'm going to stay behind until everyone had left. It seems like the courteous thing to do." Of course her reason why had nothing to do with manners.
"How kind of you," voiced Tim with a nod. "Well you have a good sleep then."
She almost laughed out loud.
One by one they walked past her, giving her their goodbyes and congratulations. Ryoku gave her a tight hug and she too walked away until she was left with James.
She looked down, not bothering to hurt herself further by looking into his eyes. But surprisingly he stopped in front of her.
She frowned. Did he…?
She looked up in alarm, a rush of emotions pulsating through her.
"You look really great tonight."
His eyes were genuine, bright.
Her heart stopped. She was unable to do anything but stare into those eyes...
And then he turned and walked away, his shoulder gently brushing against hers.
She stayed until every last person had left the room, completely on edge and yet oddly serene. The whole time her Gift never left her consciousness, ready for anything at any power, at any size. She outlined the scars on her neck absentmindedly, and sometimes found herself touching the shoulder he had touched whenever the memory of his eyes flashed through her.
Nothing ever came.
OOO
She was standing in the middle of her bedroom at the eve of the night, dead and yet perfectly alive—every organ working as it should.
"You look really great tonight."
She ran her hand through her hair, knowing perfectly well of the matters that she was supposed to be dwelling over. And she shook as she did.
Nothing ever came.
Nothing even happened.
Nothing.
And what did that mean?
Did it mean that she had failed? She had failed in her nightmare, but it did not feel the same as she did now. Right now she felt empty, hopeless…
Dead.
Back at square one again.
And it wasn't even like she had ever moved past starting point in the first place. She had no concrete proof that this would be it.
"You look really great tonight."
She had a feeling that this wouldn't be it.
But she hoped that it was. Perhaps that's why she was on edge, and yet always losing that focus. She wanted it to be over—at last—so she could rest.
Of course it wouldn't be that simple.
And yet…in a way…she had failed.
She had nothing.
Nothing.
It was exhausting. How was she supposed to figure this out with no starting point? How could she get the right answer with no question? Luck?
Apparently she didn't have time for luck.
She collapsed on her bed, hoping that at last something would come to her—someone would give her a push in the right direction.
But what was she supposed to do now?
…you look really great tonight…
My pet python Griffin fell asleep on my laptop. x.x
And I'm actually serious. I'm typing right now with a five foot long reptile hogging half of the space bar.
Replies:
Arianna: lol. Omg don't forget about it! Lmfao. Well I'm glad I've been updating quicker then. This was a slow update though. Just because I haven't had time to type it up, not write it. I think that's been a first. Lol. Mmm. My focus on the last chapter was definitely her feelings. It has been for the past few chapters actually, mostly because it's covering the bases of what she just did though. Next chapter though…gah I'm so excited. And Yea, I understand what you mean about getting ahead of myself with the third book. I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen.
Yay church!
Blackwindow12: awww thanks so much. That really means a lot. Chances are I'm not stopping any time soon. I'm really excited about what's going to happen.
Itachihater13: lol. Thanks. I liked writing that chapter, but the next one has me really pumped. Romeli and James action? Lmfao. In due time, in due time. Germany was incredibly fun. I stayed in a small town around 30 minutes away from Frankfurt. It's a really pretty place.
Saphira: omg. Your review really meant a lot to me, you have no idea. You said previously that you liked how real Romeli was in expressing emotions and what now. And I was like… 'omg yes!'. You have no idea how, when I first started this story, Romeli seemed so…fake. She was perfect. She could do anything. Since it first got pointed out to me I've been working really hard to make her the opposite of perfect, and I'm so flattered that you actually said that. THANK YOU!!!!!
X17SkmBdrchiczxx: lol. I loved writing the tapestry, Romeli thing. It was kinda random, I know, but it popped into my head and I flew with it. Comedy relief, I suppose. James does need to get his head out of his butt, there's no doubt about it. But when he does, which he will, it'll be just the perfect moment. I think. Er. Yea. Lol
13. Shimmer. 13: lmao. I'm updating right now. James will pull himself together pretty soon and those tapestries are just pretty much amazing. what a coincidence. I hate jon as well. You should read my other fic 'the I hate jonathan and delia fanclub'. I kill him in almost every chapter. Lol
May silverstream: lol. Yay concept of life! That's really flattering actually, it's the one thing that I think I work the hardest on. Making it real. Lol. I dunno. And as for the second half of your review, I already replied to it.
Silver-star-0: lol. Yay quick updates. Wow. You are crazy little silver. But I am glad for your craziness. It makes my day for sure. I'm glad you thought it was funny. I had to write one that would just send some comic relief. This book is a lot more dark then I had anticipated.