Chapter 6: What the Princess Learned
Chapter 6: What the Princess Learned
Next morning Aaron awoke from the first restful sleep he’d had in years to find buttery yellow sunlight streaming through his window to paint fanciful patterns on the rug. He stretched, yawned, and frowned. Today was his last morning. He would soon be summoned before the queen to present his report, and he would be offered one of her daughters and the crown as his reward.
He sighed and pulled himself from the large, comfortable bed. It was a decision most men would welcome, but strangely he found himself dreading it. He didn’t want the responsibility of ruling this beleaguered land, no matter what he’d promised the old woman on the road. He wanted a simple home and a simple family and a simple life.
“Aaron, old man,” he muttered, “your life hasn’t been simple in a long, long time.”
He dressed and packed quickly, hoping he’d have time to grab a bite of breakfast before the queen’s summons, and hurried to the morning room with an urgent, purposeful stride. The sight of Princess Emily already at the table, the early sun teasing out the hidden fires in her raven hair, brought him up short. She glanced up, and her face slowly eased into a smile. “Aaron,” she greeted warmly, “join me, won’t you?”
He hastily gathered himself and sketched a brief bow. “Good morning, your grace. I just came for a quick bite before my audience with your lady mother.” He took the seat across from her and poured a glass of juice; selected a warm roll from the basket she offered. He couldn’t help but notice the papers strewn across the table next to her, and he nodded toward them. “A little light morning reading?”
She gave the documents a short glance. “From my sister.”
“Ah…yes, the lady Penelope showed me her collection yesterday.”
Emily regarded him with a raised brow. “I don’t think she showed you these.” She leafed through the stack closest to her elbow and selected a page at random. “You’ve been a solider a long time, Aaron,” she offered after studying it a moment.
He froze, then slowly lowered his butter knife and bit of roll to the delicately painted plate. “Yes. But you knew that already.”
“I did,” she agreed with a small nod. “But there are quite a few things I didn’t know. You’re highly decorated.”
His face smoothed even further, though she wondered how that were possible. “I only did my duty, your grace. I took care of my men because they mattered to me, and they mattered to each other.”
She flipped another page, and her hand hovered over it a heartbeat before falling to rest upon it. He had a feeling he knew the contents of that page just from the expression on her clear, lovely face. “You were married,” she said softly.
He grimaced; began buttering the bread again as he refused to meet her steady gaze. “I don’t see how that is any of your business. Your grace.”
“She was killed in a border raid five years ago. You had been discharged, but after her death you reenlisted. Why?” Her tone was gentle, compassionate, but somehow that just made it worse.
He sighed and gave up all pretense of breakfast. His late wife’s face flashed across his mind’s eye. He could still remember her scent - like wildflowers and honey and baking - and the way the sun glinted off her hair like polished amber. It was as though the princess' careful questions had opened a floodgate of memory. He raised shaking hands to his face to try to block out the images. Her golden hair stained red with blood. Her beautiful face contorted in fear and pain. Her sparkling, mischievous eyes dulled by death.
“I’m sorry,” Emily was murmuring. “I shouldn’t have said anything; it was thoughtless.” He hadn’t noticed her move, but the next thing he knew her arm was going around his shoulders and he was leaning against her, enveloped in her warmth and her scent, so similar yet so very, very different from Haley’s. If Haley had been the sun, this woman was the moon, with all the night mysteries the comparison implied.
“There was nothing left for me after,” he told her, voice muffled by the palms still pressed against his face. “She was gone, and I was alone. I was a fool to think I could ever have peace.”
“No, no,” Emily soothed, long fingers slipping through his short hair. “You weren’t a fool, Aaron; you were hopeful. There’s a difference. This stupid war has cost us all so much, but now we have a chance to rebuild, to start fresh.”
He looked up at her, his face a tragic mask. “I don’t know if I have any more fresh starts left in me,” he admitted quietly.
She smiled like a candle in a dark room. “Maybe not alone, but with help-”
They were both startled by the sound of a throat being cleared. “Ah, my lady, Master Hotchner, please forgive the intrusion. Her most gracious Majesty will see you now.” Pierre bowed perfectly, and his smooth face gave away nothing.
Emily pulled away, gaining her feet in a swift, graceful movement. Aaron rose a bit more awkwardly, and he watched the princess as she began to gather the scattered sheets. “Here, let me,” he offered, taking them from her and quickly assembling the rest of the pile. “I think I’ll take them with me.”
“To my mother?” the princess asked, midnight eyes wide.
“To your mother. It’s time someone talked some sense into her.” He bowed low over the princess’ hand. “Thank you, lady Emily. Your courage and your honor are inspiring.”
Before she could find words, he was gone, and she was left to stare after him with the contents of her heart written across her face for anyone to read.
Hours later Emily stormed into her mother’s study without knocking only to be brought up short by the sight that met her eyes. The queen sat in a chair by the fire, her face scored by deep lines as her dazed eyes stared into, but didn’t see, the flickering flames. “Mother?” she asked softly. “Mother, what’s wrong? Where’s Aaron?” She had been pacing the corridors, anxiously awaiting the outcome of his audience, but impatience had finally gotten the better of her.
The queen didn’t reply. Emily made a quick scan of the room; took note of the silver twig and golden apple on the table by her mother’s elbow; the familiar papers strewn across her lap. “Oh,” she whispered, the realization cutting with a honed razor’s edge, “he’s gone.”
“Yes, daughter,” the queen finally said, “he’s gone. They all leave in the end, don’t they?”
“But, Mother,” she said almost desperately, “he figured it out. I thought…I…I don’t understand. Why did he go?”
She raised her eyes to meet her daughter’s thunderous gaze. “I don’t know, dear,” she replied vaguely.
“You don’t know? You don’t know?! Mother, you’re the queen! He can’t leave without your permission!”
The queen reached out and ran a finger along the apple’s glittering curve. “He told me you and your sisters were using a secret passage in your bedroom to access some sort of mystical land. He said you danced there all night with young men. Is that true, Emily?”
She blinked. “Yes, Mother. Where else does one acquire golden fruit?”
“Don’t be glib with me, Emily. I just want to know why you did it.”
“I want to know where Aaron is.”
She gave her daughter a long, level stare. “Why, Emily?”
The eldest threw up her hands in frustration. “Why do you think, Mother? You keep us trapped here! We’re never allowed outside; you lock us in at night like prisoners. We just wanted a taste of something…different.”
“So you’re blaming me?” she asked wearily.
Emily sighed and knelt before her mother. “I’m not blaming you. I just wish you would realize we’re not children. We don’t need protecting anymore.”
The queen ran a trembling hand over her daughter’s lovely face. “You’re my girls; you’ll always need protecting.”
“You couldn’t have saved him, Mother,” Emily whispered, her own heart constricting at the pain and memory she saw etched on her mother’s face.
Her mother’s eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again the princess could see a glint of tears. “Your young man left by the south road.”
The princess’ mouth hung open a moment before she snapped her jaw closed again. “He’s not…I just…” She gave up with a sigh. “The south road. Thank you, Mother.”
The queen watched her daughter rush from the room with a strange mixture of mourning and pride filling her heart. Her husband was dead; her daughters despised her; and now Emily was chasing after the man she loved as she, Erin, had once chased after their father. Time passes; the world comes full circle. She sighed wistfully and turned her eyes back to the stack of reports the young, angry soldier had shoved at her before his own hasty exit.
The tables are turned, and now our heroine must chase after our hero! Will they live happily ever after? Tune in next time to find out!
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