11 Chapter Seven: A Personal Favour

ERICIA SITS IN her study, slouching lazily over her desk full of thick books on Politics. On every weekday, Ericia spends approximately six hours studying –no less, sometimes more. Her father never teaches her anything –and if he claims to be teaching her, it’s in the worst method possible.

Ericia rubs her forehead in frustration. As far as she’s seen, none of the things she’s learnt in these books have been applied to the practicality of ruling a kingdom –at least from the way she’s seen her father do it. She groans loudly, free to do that in her own environment. She shakes her head, gluing her eyes to the page in the book before her again and forcing herself to re-read a paragraph she’d already read so many times and still can’t seem to grasp. Ericia can’t imagine what it must be like to be a student out in the kingdom, but even at twenty, she could imagine the struggle of those who aren’t royal or rich enough to buy books or learn in methods other than reading. She could imagine all students being frustrated –struggling, but determined.

Perhaps one of the things she could do to improve the education system would be provide some sort of support as the Princess through an initiative. Perhaps she could begin an outreach or a campaign.

Having her mind wander again, she shakes her head. She wouldn’t be able to do such a thing –her father won’t let her.

But perhaps having the Prince of Lystotia and the Prince of Phillimont here would soften his mind towards the idea... she thinks. She shakes her head again, staring down at the paragraph.

Rowan, she remembers saying. Do you love me?

She shuts the textbook and grinds her teeth, immediately regretting the decision afterwards.

“I’d be lying if I said yes, Ericia...” he had told her... “but I’m in the process of learning to, and that means I don’t want anyone else getting in the way of us. You’re mine –and only mine.”

“You’re mine,” she says to herself, lowly, “and only mine.” Something about the way he said it irks her.

This process of learning to love one another, she decides, is foolish and comical. To love is not a skill to be acquired. You simply love and are loved. Through flaws, through mistakes and conflicts, through good times and bad times, you still love. All the experiences add up –but the love is still there. Love is always there from the beginning, sometimes people just take a while to find it. If the love was never there, you’d know. If someone is different from the beginning, you’d know. You’d always know how someone makes you feel –even if that feeling is not what it’s meant to be from the very beginning. That person is just different, and they always will be. Humans are intelligent enough. Love is an instinct.

But why do I feel... she wonders... like I’ve never felt that love towards him?

Do I love him as a friend? She asks herself. She pauses, knowing the answer all too well.

Sure, Ericia knows that she is engaged to Prince Rowan. They’re to be married one day, but has she ever felt anything towards him? During the four times they’ve ever been together in their lifetime, how much could she have felt? All she knew was that one day she’d have to marry this Prince. All she knew was that she did not have the freedom to choose who she wanted to marry one day. All she knew was that someday, her husband would be the future King of Lystotia, and her children would be the heirs to an expanded nation.

Thinking about all of it now, Ericia realises she’s never fallen in love. She’s never felt those chills –the chills you’re supposed to get when you’re afraid to touch someone for the first time –like in those romantic novels she often liked to read. She’s never allowed someone to kiss her. She’s never allowed a man to overstep his boundaries –with the exception of her father or Prince Rowan, and she isn’t too keen on allowing the Prince to do such things anyway, but does she have a choice? She’s trying to be receptive to him.

Can she be as open with Prince Rowan as she wants to be? Can she say how she really feels? Can she do the things she truly wants to do?

She remembers once testing those waters –the time she had awoken to find him fencing early in the morning.

Her father doesn’t know that she’s been practicing the defensive arts, but she’s been trying to improve her skills in them. She hasn’t been able to do much because of the physical pain and strain of abuse on her body, but she tries anyway, deciding that if the defensive arts involve the least of pain, then when she doesn’t have to deal with such torture –when the pain is gone –when the throbbing stops and the healing starts, she won’t feel anything when fighting. She won’t feel anything at all. She’ll be numb towards it. She’ll be numb, and she’ll be professional –a master in the arts.

Prince Rowan hadn’t seemed to mention such details to her father –otherwise Ericia knows her father would whip her into the morning again. He’d chain her to the wall backwards, so that she’d face the stone and not see what he’s attaching to the leather whip, and then she’d feel the first lash –the second –the third –and before she knows it she’s forgotten how many she’s gotten because she can’t keep up. The sun will then rise, a new day will begin, and her father will go about his business, unbothered. She would have to pretend nothing had happened again.

This thought sends a chill up Ericia’s spine. She would have to pretend. Pretend. She despises the word so.

She thinks about the night she’d fallen down the stairs, injuring her ankle. Prince Henry was the only one who had ever helped her.

Ever.

Ericia had never taken such a fall in her life. She had never allowed herself to appear weak in front of others. As a child, perhaps falling and bruising a knee was an issue, but as she grew up and learnt about the harshness of her reality, Ericia learnt to be careful –even in the presence of her best friend.

She stares down at her healing ankle and thinks about Prince Henry’s demeanour. She had argued with him, unable to hold her tongue to the further thoughts in her mind. Since that time in the garden, Prince Henry hasn’t spoken to her. He hasn’t acknowledged her. He hasn’t even crossed her path. She’s seen him in the distance, but he never turned in her direction –he never noticed she was there, and so she turned away, going about her business.

I wasn’t asking.

Sit.

Next time... watch where you’re walking.

If you are an heir, truly, then act like one.

Ericia could hear his low, soothing, commanding, yet somehow gentle voice in her head. It makes her blood go hot. Her face goes red. She slams her hand down on the desk and groans again. “Act like one,” she scolds herself. “Act like one.”

***

Gaya, the closest friend to the Queen, straps her leather sack to her back and heads out of the palace. It’s her day off, and she’s on her way to the Hyre Village in Aeriston to meet with the Callie family before running some errands for herself.

Exiting the second floor and reaching the first, she passes the royal physician.

“Gaya,” he whispers, hurrying over, careful not to draw attention to their conversation.

“Seth,” she says, smiling as she turns to him. “Lovely to see you.”

“Gaya, I must speak with you privately,” he says, his tone stern and his expression more on the sombre side.

“I’m on my way to Hyre Village. It’s my day off; would you like to join me?”

“I can’t leave the palace –at any time a trainee of the armies might need me, but may I speak with you briefly?”

They walk out into the open at the entrance road to the palace.

Seth clears his throat and smiles, hoping to defeat the purpose of others watching out of suspicion. “I believe you now, Gaya,” he says. “I’ve seen the proof for myself.”

“You...” Gaya blinks, surprised, “What did you see?”

Seth laughs, but his expression quickly becomes pitiful and sorrowful as he stares directly at Gaya once more. “A few days ago the Princess awoke to a twisted ankle, claiming to have fallen down a flight of stairs and injure herself. She said she didn’t know it was that bad.”

“And I’m supposing Avie was the one who called you,” she says, knowingly.

“Your daughter,” Seth says, “does she know?”

Gaya exhales sharply, giving him a knowing look. “I won’t tell her if it meant I’d die.”

“If she so much as says the wrong thing, Gaya, she’ll be the one executed. Remember what happened to Marie.”

“I know, Seth,” Gaya says, annoyed. “But I cannot provoke more of her curiosity. Just let Avie be. Ericia seems to know she cannot tell Avie everything, and Avie knows her place in the presence of Royals. Let it be, Seth.”

“Ericia is victim to it, isn’t she,” Seth says, his face expressionless.

There’s a pause, and Gaya frowns as she stares up at her friend. “You know as well as I do that we cannot say anything about this. This is abuse towards the Queen and the Princess. Who can we claim such things to? The King? He’ll have us killed before the sun has set. Again, look what happened to Marie. She knew about the abuse towards the Queen. I’m the one picking up the pieces for her family on behalf of the Olivia.”

“Oh, Queen Olivia,” Seth mutters, “How gracious that woman is.”

“Who knows,” Gaya says, overwhelmed with sadness, “what Charles might do if he finds out she’s the one behind the Callie family’s survival...”

“Something has to be done, dearest Gaya,” Seth says. “We’re talking about an abusive king,” he says, lowly.

“We cannot do anything much to change the situation with our positions,” Gaya says. “If God has it so, then let it be. Such tyrants –even secretly- don’t live forever.”

“Gaya,” Seth stresses, frustrated, “We’re taking two bends –one into a marriage and one into an alliance with what will be this nation’s largest, strongest army. Not to mention we’ve all heard the rumours of the war to come. With a ruler like him, with the audacity to pretend as though nothing is wrong in the presence of others and have his family silent as they are, what will happen?” he shakes his head. “He could very well decide to become a part of the warring side, as well, the way I see it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Gaya says, immediately. “Don’t speak such things into being.” Even now, however, Gaya knows that everything Seth has said could be true.

“I will not have this nation fall apart,” Seth swears, “if it means losing my life.”

“Seth,” Gaya says, gently, “we both love this nation. We love our Queen and our Princess, our fellow people and our families, but how much do you truly think we can do to stop whatever is to come? We’re mere palace servants. Yes, even you as the royal physician.” She frowns. “I really must leave. I’ll be late and may not get all of my errands done today.” She begins walking away. “Don’t get involved. The truth will reveal itself in due time.”

Seth watches her leave.

I have to do something, he says to himself, even if it means the end of my life.

***

Prince Henry stands in the heat of the open field, supervising the trainees. His mind is far off as he stares out, rather obliviously, at some of the struggling men.

I have no business, he had told her, interacting freely with another man’s betrothed.

He can’t seem to get the questions she had asked him out of his head.

Am I just a man’s Betrothed?

Do I not have what it must entail to be simply human?

Must I be treated like I am less than worthy?

Even of something as sacred as friendship?

What, must I cross no social boundaries?

Is this the prejudice I must face as a woman?

I, too, am an Heir, Your Highness.

Then act like one, he had said to her.

Henry smiles, absentmindedly; amused by her outspokenness towards him. Up close, Ericia’s eyes were the most mesmerising of all things clear and blue. Up close her blonde curls didn’t sway with the wind, they bounced with personality. Up close, Ericia isn’t the person she pretends to be –he could see the real her –up close. Yet, up close might be the most dangerous place for a princess like her to be to a prince like him.

Prince Henry is genuinely glad, thinking it over, that Ericia isn’t truly the way she carries herself most times. Though he was honest in his opinion towards her needing to be more outspoken where she needs to be as an Heir, he’s glad that she’s not the way she appears to be most days.

A pair of hasty footsteps approaches the smiling prince, and by the time the person arrives, he’s too late to snap out of it.

“Henry,” Rowan says, Henry turning to him, his smile fading. “Charles has organised a meeting for the commanders of the Montien and Vynierian army, as well as you and me.”

“When’s it to start?” Henry asks.

“After lunch, two o’clock, in the King’s study.”

“I’ll be there,” Henry says.

Rowan nods gently towards him and leaves. Henry almost wants to punch himself in the face.

Right, he remembers. She’s engaged... to him.

***

Rowan lifts the weight off his chest and brings it back down again. The palace gym is heated at noon, but he has no intention of leaving until he feels better.

He replays the image of Henry smiling in his mind again. Yes, Rowan knows he must have been seeing correctly again. Henry smiled after speaking with Ericia, and he smiled in the courtyard, as he was being approached. His mind was far away. Where could it have been?

Was he thinking of her?

Rowan hadn’t ever seen Henry as amused as he has been in recent times, even throughout their history of interactions. It had happened once in Lystotia, but the memory of what happened back then makes Rowan’s blood boil.

Rowan lifts the weight off of him again. He sits up, pouring a bottle of water over himself.

He stays in the bath for a long time before getting dressed and stepping out into the sun to dry his hair.

He spots Ericia, roaming with Avie by her side, laughing softly over something he didn’t hear. He smiles, walking over.

“Hello, miss,” he says, bowing to the princess with a grin on his face. “What are you up to today?”

“Rowan,” she says, her eyes gleaming, “I’m just having a break from my study. I’ll be back up there in about ten minutes. I really needed the fresh air.”

“There’s something I needed to talk to you about,” Rowan says, “May I?”

“Of course,” she says.

Rowan stands beside her, Avie falling behind the pair and trailing loosely.

“Do you remember when I first got here?” he asks her.

“How could I forget?”

“Do you remember when you said that you wouldn’t mind staying at Lystotia with me?” he asks.

“I do,” says Ericia, though internally, she’s half-regretting ever saying such a thing.

“I plan on asking the King for permission. There will be a meeting at two, this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Ericia says, startled by the idea but containing her panic within. “You’re... sure?”

“I believe –or rather, I hope that I’ve bonded with your people here, though I still think I haven’t done enough, but I think I would feel much more comfortable back home in Lystotia. I’m planning on having you meet my people there as well. I haven’t entirely sorted out the plan, but I’m hoping that after discussing this with your father, we can work out the details,” he says.

Ericia and Rowan continue to walk, and as Ericia listens to Rowan’s ideas, she becomes more frantic internally.

“It would be great exposure for me,” Ericia says. “I’ll have to become familiar with the people, places and culture of Lystotia eventually.” She laughs, trying not to sound nervous.

“I do hope it all goes well,” he says.

“Fingers crossed,” Ericia says, “You should get going. The meeting will begin before you’re finished getting ready.”

Rowan laughs, rushing off and leaving Avie and Ericia to themselves.

Ericia waits until he’s disappeared into the palace. “Avie,” she says, smiling a closed-mouth smile to her best friend, “Let’s go into the garden.”

“Sure, Eri,” Avie says.

Ericia and Avie walk into the palace garden, Ericia moving stiffly. When she gets to the bench, she looks out at the city of Vynier, fear and frustration bubbling inside of her. All at once, it cripples her, and she finds herself gasping for air, wheezing, holding her chest and collapsing onto the concrete bench.

“Ericia,” Avie says, her eyes going wide, “Are you okay? I’m calling the physi-”

“-Don’t!” Ericia says, “Don’t call... anyone.”

Avie sits beside her, rubbing her back and watching her in worry.

“I’ll be fine in a moment,” Ericia says.

When she catches her breath and calms down, she stares out at the city, placing a hand over her heart to feel the rapid beat.

“Sooo...” Avie begins, clearing her throat, “I’m guessing you don’t want to go to Lystotia?”

Ericia’s eyes almost well up with tears. She turns to her friend. “Avie,” she says, lowly –so softly that it’s almost impossible to hear her. “What would you do if you were in my position?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Ericia,” Avie says, watching Ericia’s tears fall.

“There’s a lot,” the Princess tells her, “that you don’t know.”

“Don’t you love him?” Avie asks.

Ericia lets out a pitiful laugh. “I should,” she says, staring at a confused Avie, “Shouldn’t I?”

“But do you?” Avie asks, again.

The Princess huffs out a breath, rubbing the palms of her hands over her long dress where her knees would be.

“No,” she says, her eyes staring at the pebbles on the ground. “I don’t.”

***

At quarter to two in the afternoon, Ericia and Avie are on the ground floor, discussing with an interior decorator the preference which the princess would have between purple and green for the accent colours of the curtains. Ericia could not return to an attitude of study and so she wanted to cheer herself up by helping out the palace staff.

“I think the green would be a refreshing colour since we haven’t seen it around here as much for a while,” Ericia says, smiling.

The interior decorator, standing on a ladder near the window, looks behind the Princess, her face going neutral. “Your Highness,” she says, coming down from the ladder and standing properly to bow.

Ericia looks behind her to find Prince Henry walking towards her.

“Prince Henry,” she says, “What an interesting surprise. Henry halts, close enough to the princess that she could see the glossy reflection of the window behind her in his blue eyes. “I didn’t expect a visit.”

“Good afternoon, madam,” Henry says to the interior decorator, nodding slightly. He turns to Avie, “And to you as well.”

“Oh G-Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Avie says, bowing sloppily.

Ericia almost laughs at her friend’s nervousness.

“Princess Ericia, if I may ask you a favour,” he says, turning to her.

“Of course, how may I be of assistance?” she asks.

“Will you accompany me to the King’s Study? I need to be there in five,” he says.

“Well then,” Ericia says, “We’d better get going.”

With that, Ericia and Henry walk away from the other two working women. Ericia glances at the Prince beside her, stifling a laugh. “Perhaps I should argue with you more often, Your Highness. Only then do positive changes seem to happen.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Princess. If I was asking this favour of you for those personal reasons I’d not do so at all.”

“Then why did you...” Ericia trails off, puzzled. She stops walking.

“Let’s put it this way,” Prince Henry says, stopping and turning to her. “We’re forming an alliance between Phillimont and Vynier. Someday, we’re both going to rule these kingdoms as a king and a queen. Are you aware of how frightfully frustrating it is to have to deal with an army that large? If you’re not well-equip in the knowledge of these matters, I’d have an extremely hard time dealing with both our kingdoms when it comes to the control of the armies. This gesture is to aid us both.”

“So?” Ericia asks, as he begins walking again.

They reach the doors to the King’s study.

“So,” Henry says, turning to her one last time, “Wait out here for me.”

“...Wai-” before Ericia could finish, Henry docks into the room and shuts the door.

Ericia paces the floor of the corridor, looking out of the large windows beside her. Downstairs she can see the trainees resting. She sighs, wondering what’s to come.

***

King Charles clears his throat and begins to speak. “Thank you all for coming,” he says, the room of commanders, along with a couple of court members and the two Princes going silent. “Since the training of the armies began, there was no official meeting among us. Today will be the first. In these meetings I plan to discuss the progress of the armies throughout training, as well as any news we may receive about the supposed war. Any other pressing matters or ideas that may arise during these meetings will also have a period in which they are heard. I will organise the time for each meeting since time is always a nuisance anyway, but as I’ve said, we’ll try to have these become regular at least until the training is over and the alliance ceremony arrives. Are there any questions before we begin?”

Prince Henry speaks. “Your Majesty, if I may?”

The King smiles, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Henry stands from his seat beside Rowan. “Undoubtedly, there is a missing member of the meeting this evening.”

“And who would that be, Henry?” Charles asks.

“Her Highness,” Henry says, “Princess Ericia.”

Rowan glances over at Henry, taken aback.

“Ericia?” King Charles asks, sitting up in his seat, more attentive as he listens.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Henry says, nodding. “You see, I believe that the Princess will learn much about the practical aspect of the control of the armed forces from these meetings. She was not present for the first meeting that my Montien trainers and I have had with you alone, Your Majesty, but if she is present for these meetings, they would do her a great deal of good. She would receive a wealth of knowledge, being the Heir to Vynier.”

Charles listens in silence as the Prince continues to speak.

“My father has taught me how to be an effective ruler by allowing me to join in on his events, his meetings, to have a say in his decisions, and even to fight in his battles. For an heir such as the Princess, such activities will strengthen her and make her wiser and much more responsible. I would like to request your permission for her to attend these meetings.”

King Charles ponders over the matter.

“Your Majesty, I believe the Prince of Phillimont has a strong point,” says a member of the court, who is then agreed with by another -and another- through nods and low mutters.

“These would surely help the princess,” one comments. “I say we should allow her to join.”

Rowan sits quietly in his chair, listening to the room go into an uproar of agreement. Henry, he decides, has ruined his plan.

Rowan was going to speak to the King about taking Ericia to Lystotia after the meeting. Would he be able to do so now?

“The majority believe that your idea will have a positive outcome,” Charles says to Henry, “and I believe so as well. Rowan. Don’t you think it’s a tasteful idea to have both you and Ericia seated for these meetings? I’m sure it would make you both an effective pair of rulers.”

Prince Rowan, at the mention of his name, snaps out of his twisted thoughts and turns to the King. “Yes,” he says. “I’m quite sure of it.”

“Then, if I may,” Henry smirks, getting out of his seat and walking over to the door, “I’ll be just a moment.”

Henry opens the door to reveal a startled Ericia. He walks over to her, his face neutral.

“Prince Henry,” she says as he approaches her. “What is the matte-”

“-Come,” he says, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards the double doors.

Ericia gasps, pulling herself out of his grasp and moving away from the doors. “Are you daft?” she argues in a whisper. “I can’t go in there!”

Henry glides his hand down his face in frustration as he looks at her. “You should be thanking me,” he says, “Ericia.”

She stares at him, dumbfounded. “What...” she starts, pausing, “What did you just do?”

“I saved your reign,” he says. “Now come. Tardiness is unacceptable of a Royal.”

This time, Henry takes her hand and guides her to the door gently. He releases her hand soon after, leaving her skin feeling the absence of his warmth. He opens the doors wide enough to reveal himself and the Princess.

Ericia looks around the room –the first face she sees is her father’s. He is sitting at the opposite end, staring directly at them.