The White Room

THE NIGHT, DESPITE all the cryptic words and depressing tales, still ended on a high note. The sun had long set, allowing glittering stars and a brilliant crescent moon to shine on its behalf. Under the noir sky, Spade had insisted on providing Alice a ride back to the Ragan Estate.

"It was what I had promised Wyatt, after all," he argued, leaving no space for Alice to refuse his generous offer.

However, while their dinner was filled with grand tales and playful exchanges, the ride back was quieter than what Alice was comfortable with. Both of them sat on opposite sides of the carriage, Alice's hands in her lap, fisting her dress while Spade stared out of the window wordlessly. His chin rested on the back of his hand, his eyes lazily observing the sprawling fields they passed by while on the road. However, although his expression seemed nonchalant and casual, his posture was still kept perfect.

With the window open, fresh air streamed in as they rode in the night, sending the chilling breeze to feather across Alice's skin. The scent of the dirt and of the flowers was blown into the carriage, flooding the compact space with the smell of nature. With the gentle rocking of the horse-drawn carriage, Alice felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Eventually, they fell shut, nodding off as her head hit against the window frame with a light 'thud'.

When she opened her eyes again, the scene before her was no longer a dark carriage with Spade sitting right opposite her. She saw a white corridor without a single piece of furniture in sight. Instead of flowers and fresh grass, the scent that hovered in the air was replaced with the sharp, stinging smell of alcohol disinfectants.

At a distance away, she could hear voices conversing in hushed whispers followed by tragic sobbing. Curious, Alice followed the sounds she heard, carefully making her way through the overly bright white room before she reached a door. Placing her palm on it, she tried to push the door open only to find it unmoving. Trying again, this time, Alice pulled at the handle. Same as before, the door didn't budge.

Pressing her ears against the door she strained them, trying to hear the words exchanged inside.

"... is she?" A woman could be heard asking, her voice quaking.

"According to… it seems like… Unfortunately, there's no conclusive… I'm very sorry, Mrs. Cle…"

From inside the room, Alice heard a 'thud' ring, the sound of something hitting the floor. There were no windows on the door nor were there any openings that could allow Alice to peek into the room. However, she recognized the voice. It was someone she knew, someone she was painfully familiar with. Yet, no matter how she tried, Alice couldn't put a name to the owner of the voice. There was something blocking her memories from surfacing even though she knew it was an important tidbit of information.

"We can try to… but there's no estimate on when or whether she…" Inside the room, the lower voice continued to speak.

This time, when Alice leaned her entire body weight against the door, it suddenly cracked open just an inch. Surprised, she continued to use her shoulder to hit against the door, forcing it to split open bit by bit. Brilliant light spilled from inside the room once she finally got the doors to open. Alice, who had been leaning her entire weight on the panel, tumbled right into the glaring light, falling over her feet. As she braced herself in preparation for hitting the floor beneath, a pair of warm arms surrounded her.

Her eyes shot open, eyelashes fluttering as she blinked rapidly. The light was gone and she could no longer remember what she had dreamt about. She only remembered that it was utterly confusing and out of context, filled with bright lights and familiar voices. All that was in front of her now was Spade's sapphire eyes gazing at her mere inches away, his face too close to her for comfort.

He had moved over to her seat, holding her in his arms tenderly, protectively. When he realized that she had woken up, his slightly parted lips pursed itself shut before parting again once more.

"Be careful there," he said. Slowly, his hands let go of her shoulders. As he did so, the warmth of his body that had melded into Alice's skin slowly melted away. "You nearly fell off the seat in your sleep. Was it such a wondrous dream that you had completely lost yourself in it?" As he asked the question, Spade scooted away, leaving a polite gap between them.

Had she been dreaming? She could no longer remember the contents of it, if there was one.

"I… I can't remember," she answered honestly. "My dreams tend to evade me once I wake up. They don't linger for long, unfortunately."

"Well," Spade shrugged, "It's not good to dwell on dreams. Maybe it's a blessing that you can't remember them." Sighing, he leaned back in his seat. For a split second, his posture slackened and for once, he seemed lethargic. "Heaven knows I've lost too many hours of sleep because of them."

"Wouldn't they be called nightmares, then?"

"No," he disagreed. "The worst dreams are not nightmares but rather dreams so beautiful and heavenly that you detest the thought of waking up."

The sentence left Spade's lips with such melancholy that Alice wanted to know more about the story behind his stance. There was more than what was at the surface. Spade's statement held more meaning than the words he chose to use.

Just as Alice opened her mouth and prepared herself to ask if Spade knew that from personal experience, he straightened again. Leaning forward, he nodded his chin towards the carriage window, drawing Alice's attention to the world outside their moving vehicle.

"We're here," he simply said, leaving their previous conversation in the dust and hence destroying any chance for Alice to ask her question.

"That was quick," she absentmindedly commented under her breath, to which Spade chuckled.

"Time sure flies when things get interesting." Moving back to his original seat opposite Alice, Spade crossed one leg over the other. His hands rested on his knee, casually intertwining his fingers together. "Humor me a little, Alice, but how did you know I was the prince back in the library? I don't believe we've met properly before other than at the masquerade."

"A mask doesn't hide a person's identity as much as they wish it could," Alice replied. "And also, I saw the royal family's portrait that was hanging in the library. It's hard not to recognize you with such a big picture displayed."

"Fair enough."

The carriage slowed down, eventually coming to a stop right outside the large gates of the Ragan's family mansion. Standing right outside was Miles, his posture perfect and a sword hanging at his waist, waiting to receive Alice the second she returned. At the sight of him, Alice guessed that Wyatt must've sent word back home to ensure her safe return.

Dorian, who had been driving the carriage the entire way, got down to help Alice out of the carriage. Climbing out, Alice held her skirt up, careful not to accidentally step on the fabric on the way. She didn't have to worry even if she did trip on her skirt, of course. Miles was by her side within seconds, standing near enough to catch her should any mishap happen but still keeping a generally respectful distance so as to not invade into her personal bubble.

The books that Alice had personally picked from the palace library were passed from Dorian to Miles's open hands. The latter carried the tall stack effortlessly, holding the books as if they weighed no more than a feather. However, he was still human and he had his limits. In his arms was only half of the stack. The rest of the books were still in the palace, sent to Wyatt's library with a request for him to bring them home with him once he was done with his work.

"Thank you so much for dinner, Your Highness." Dipping down into a curtsey, Alice sincerely thanked Spade from the bottom of her heart. "I had fun."

"Spade," he reminded her. "I said it and I meant it, Alice. There's no need for formalities between us. We're friends, are we not?"

Alice flinched a little at the word, not expecting it despite having the thought. Warmth blossomed in her chest.

"Yes." Raising her head, she beamed. The apples of her cheeks were rosy, glowing with radiant delight. "Friends." Taking a step back from the carriage, Alice prepared herself to walk back with Miles. Before she returned, she turned back, raising her hand to wave at the prince who sat in the shadows. "Goodnight then, Spade."

Although the prince did not reply with words, he raised his own hand, waving back until Alice had turned away from the carriage and disappeared down the winding path. The gleaming gates closed once Miles and Alice were through, leaving the carriage outside in the cold of the night.

"Your Highness?" Dorian voiced, noticing how the second prince kept his eyes fixated on the spot Alice was seen last. Spade wore a grin on his face so small that it was hardly noticeable. However, having served His Highness since young, Dorian recognized most if not all of Spade's minuscule expressions.

When he was called, Spade turned his head. His line of sight fell onto Dorian, gleaming eyes glittering despite the dark. His azure irises and curved lips were the only visible parts of his face as the rest of his body was shrouded in the darkness of both the night and the shadow cast by the carriage. He waved Dorian's unspoken question away, licking at his dry lips slightly just to wet it.

"It's nothing," he spoke, leaning back in his seat. Tearing his eyes away, he eyed the spot Alice sat in on their way to the Ragan's mansion. "It just seems like I've found quite an interesting new little bird to play with." Returning his gaze to Dorian, he nodded towards the door, signaling for it to be shut. "Let us return to the palace, Dorian. My brother must be done with his work soon. We won't want him asking questions again, now, do we?"

Wordlessly bowing in salutations, Dorian closed the carriage doors before climbing back into the driver's seat. With a sharp whip of the reins, the horses started to trod once more.

The gravel crunched beneath the horses' hooves and the carriage wheels, serving as the only sound to tell the tale that the prince had been at the estate. Even such a noise would soon disappear to give way to the quietude of the night, erasing Spade's existence from the front gates of the Ragan Estate within moments of his departure.