Chapter 106 - In Sickness and In Health (III)

- - -

Catherine opened her eyes slowly.

The room was barely lit, but still too bright. Her whole body ached, but her mind was the least hazy it had been in days. How long had it been since she fell ill? She couldn't remember at all. In fact, she couldn't recall anything much, after the initial hustle. Priests and physicians running back and forth, Father and Uncle's anxious faces, Mary patiently attending to her… and Lady Valentina's visit, more recently. Catherine smiled at the idea, the joy of having a friend surpassing even her immense weariness. Her eyes closed again, still tired.

However, she did not slip back into familiar unconsciousness, for gradually, she became aware that she was not alone in the room. She peeked around the room, and her eyes opened fully when her gaze landed on Prince Oscar. She sat up too quickly, wincing at the effort. A shock ran through her, sending her into a fit of coughing. When she'd somewhat recovered, the prince was looking at her vacantly.

"Y-your highness…"

Catherine's voice came out barely a croak, and on hearing it, her hand flew to her mouth, horrified by the hideous sounds she just produced. The movement, however, not only tired her, but also made her see the ugly scars covering every inch of her skin. She might've fainted, except the cold fear produced by the prince's presence prevented her from even that.

"Do not mind me."

That was not easy! Catherine slowly laid back down and squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart pounded in her already fragile frame, threatening to leap out at any moment. She tried to speak again, this time much more gently, though her throat still burned.

"You s-shouldn't be here…"

"I must be sure of the safety of my people. Unless you are aware of any other reason for me to be here?"

Catherine turned her head away from his piercing gaze, the golden eyes searing through her. He must be referring to the supposed influence she had over him, but it was true that she had no idea of the cause behind that, and in her current state, it could hardly be her fault! She could not bring herself to reply, from both the physical and mental turmoil. Thus, the uncomfortable silence continued for some time, until Prince Oscar broke it, his voice low and husky.

"I can no longer differentiate between the physical yearning towards you and the desire formed with my own will, and I detest it. It is impossible for anyone to have caused this, and yet you have no redeeming qualities to warrant such interest. If I had not recently gone under numerous physical and mental examinations, I would swear that I have gone insane."

Catherine couldn't tell whether to be delighted, offended, or perhaps scared. She remained silent, confident that anything she could say would not improve the situation, and not wanting to risk upsetting him further. To her surprise, he continued.

"Valentina is more than what you could ever hope to be, though through no fault of your own. She is the perfect fiancee, the purest saint, and the noblest of aristocrats. I know the defects of her character, perhaps better than anyone, but as the crown prince, I was willing to accept them all, for they are wholly outweighed by her merits. Alas…!"

His voice trembled a little and fell completely flat, and while Catherine couldn't read a single trace of emotion on his face, she felt immensely sorry for the prince, and guilty, in case that she was the cause of such pain. His tone was so devoid of sentiments that Catherine shuddered to know that a person could speak in such a way.

"It can not be right. I have always known that she cares only for my crown, so it is unreasonable for the fact to be the cause of this current irrationality."

"B-but it's not true!"

Catherine didn't know what made her say it, and the urgency of her words made her suffer another coughing fit. She sat up, her chest heaving, and her cheeks flushed. The prince looked at her coldly, as if acknowledging her for the first time as her own person, instead of an idle listener.

"You do not know her as I do."

Catherine opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She had no breath for speaking, but soon, her eyes brimmed with tears. They rolled down her scabbed cheeks, and she tried to wipe them away, but they came too quickly. The pent-up sadness of everything that had happened since she returned finally spilled out, in defense of her only light through it all, and she was unable to keep it back, as hard as she tried. She cried for her illness, for her reputation, for her loneliness, for the disappointment and shame she was to Father and Uncle, for the burst dream she'd cherished, and for the future she'd have to endure, that she did not yet even dare to imagine.

Prince Oscar said nothing but held out a handkerchief. She declined it, seeing the crest of House Avington and knowing it to be from Lady Valentina, and instead grabbed her own from her nightstand, almost knocking off a locket she hadn't recalled placing there. Still, it took some time until she was composed enough to speak, but she did her best to, in a hoarse whisper.

"L-Lady V-Valentina is the only person outside my family to be kind to me, e-except for her brother. She is everything you said and more, and I know better than you that I can never be like her! But I'm trying! I'm trying my hardest, but I don't even know what I'm trying to get anymore. She's kind, and she loves you, even I can see that! And-"

"You see the act she puts up for everyone."

"B-but how do you know she's not genuine? Please, please don't give me any false hope. She values you, and you've admitted that you like her! The two of you are right together, because you are the only ones so wonderful as to deserve each other. If you were the slightest bit unhappy, if I thought I had the tiniest chance, if she did not love you so, then I could love you…"

Catherine was practically wailing, both from the embarrassment of her confession and the exertion that the speech had on her throat. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Prince Oscar was still for a second. Then, he lifted a strand of her hair and kissed it.

Without another word, he left the room, just as Mary came rushing in, likely alarmed by her crying. Catherine's head spun as she laid down, wondering what in the world she had just done.

Her heart was in an uneasy uproar of emotions as she slipped back into the comforting darkness.

- - -

Shots fired one after another. Prey fell.

Her Ladyship had gone home to fetch her rifle right after the visit to the Bryant mansion, then departed immediately for the closest hunting range, which was just outside the capital. She preferred hunting in the summer as to the winter, but when her mood was as bad as this, all that mattered was for her to take her rage out on something. The servants said that when she was young, before she learned to hunt, she took it out on her underlings, but to Mikhail, she'd always been the most lovely and elegant lady there ever was.

Mikhail wished that all his lady's misery stemmed from a single individual, such as Prince Oscar or Lady Catherine, and to erase them would be as easy as killing them, but Her Ladyship had said that it was not so simple. Still, he longed to do something, for every shred of distress his lady felt, he felt it a thousand times worse. If he could give his life to relieve her pain by just a little, he'd do it in an instant. If only he knew how!

"I choose Sir Mikhail Lovell to be my knight."

He thought back to Her Ladyship's sixteenth birthday, when she'd chosen one to be her own from House Avington's best knights. After years of vigorous training so he could have a place among them, he'd taken his oath and been bestowed his knighthood by His Grace just a month prior. All the other knights already believed that he would be chosen, but he hadn't dared getting his hopes up, for fear that it would be disappointed. Yet when he heard his name from her lips, his life saw a new meaning, a greater duty, like a million rays of light bursting forth, and he felt emotions past elation or bliss.

In that chapel where generations of Avingtons had been baptized, married, and mourned, he'd knelt before his lady. Golden sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting a radiant glow upon his lady's face. She was smiling proudly, and he wished he could keep that expression on her countenance forever. His breath quickened as she touched the sword to his shoulder.

"On my honour as a knight of House Avington, I, Mikhail Lovell, pledge my life to Lady Valentina Avington. I will serve and obey her, defend her from all ill intent, and carry out her commands unto my dying breath. God, see that this is my oath, and that I shall die before it is severed."

An eternal peace, the bind of his promise, settled over him. He could feel it now, a comforting reminder that his lady would always have him, for as long as he lived. There was a vague triumph to it, that from the moment he took his oath and ceased to be his own person, his fate was sealed and forever tied to his lady, unlike the uncertainty Lord Damian and His Highness had to face. He knew it meant he could never be her equal, but that was all right with him.

"Mikhail! Let's go home."

His lady's voice brought him back from his reminiscences. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes had recovered the devilish sparkle that she only revealed when there was no other society, and she held two dead hares. She was slightly out of breath from the exercise, but a sly smirk danced on her lips. Ah, that was the way his lady was. Always scheming, as soon as she finished unleashing her anger, because she believed the whole world was hers to take. Mikhail believed it, too.

And he'd help her get it, even if it killed him.