Chapter 5: What the Soldier Saw
Chapter 5: What the Soldier Saw
“You can’t really be serious, Emily!” Elle scoffed at her elder sister as they strolled one of the palace’s many corridors. “He’s just another one of Mother’s silly hopefuls. I admit he’s a refreshing change from the usual overstuffed, peacocking princes we get, but I think she’s just trying a different tactic.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” Emily replied, shaking her head in exasperation.
“You know I’ve always respected your judgment, but I think you’re wrong this time.”
“You’re so quick to judge. Did you even give him a chance?”
“I don’t have to. He’ll be gone tomorrow just like the rest of them.”
Emily paused, crossing her arms over her chest. “When did you get so angry, Eleanor?”
The younger sister seemed to stagger; her face lost all its color as the blood drained from it; her lips tightened into a thin, sharp line. No one, ever, called her by her full name except their father. The word had been unofficially banned from the palace lexicon since his death. “It’s Elle,” she snapped back.
Emily’s faced softened; she reached out a hand toward her sister. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; that was unkind. I just…I miss the way you were before.”
“I miss the way everything was before,” she muttered.
The elder sister shook her head ruefully. “So do I, little sister.”
“Is that what you think he’ll do? Restore things to the way they were?” she asked, voice laced with accusation and suspicion…and maybe a tiny tremble of longing.
“No, love; there’s no going back to the way things were. We both know that. I just think…maybe…he could…make a difference. Is that so terribly hard to believe?”
Elle sighed; ran long-fingered hands through her dark hair. “I don’t know, Emily. I’m just so tired of being disappointed.”
“So am I.” She put a comforting arm around her sister’s waist. “But maybe, just this once, we could have a bit of faith.”
“That’s in short supply around here.” She frowned thoughtfully, and after a moment, “What’s changed your mind about him? You felt the same as me not so long ago.”
Emily looked away. “Ah, well…I…I had Penny get me his war record.”
“What!?” Elle nearly shrieked. “How did Pen get hold of information like that?”
She shrugged, a smile curving her well-formed mouth. “You know Pen: she has spies everywhere. Apparently her friend Morgan served with him at some point; he gave her an earful, so to speak.” She tugged at her sister, urging her to continue their journey.
Elle’s brow creased as she walked. “Morgan? Isn’t that-”
“The very same. Why do you think he hit the road so fast once he realized he’d failed?”
“What is Pen doing talking to a foreign prince who failed Mother’s silly test?”
“I don’t know, but apparently…”
Their voices faded as they rounded a corner, and Aaron let out the breath he’d been holding. Pushing back the tapestry, he stepped out into the empty hallway and stared after the sisters with a deep, contemplative frown.
He wasn’t terribly surprised when, later that night, the person knocking on his door proved to be Elle. He smiled at her a bit warily, and his perceptive gaze took note of the tightness around her mouth; the slight tremble of hands that held the tray.
“I’m on nightcap duty this time,” she told him, her voice full of false cheer.
He nodded resignedly. “Of course. Won’t you come in?”
She looked briefly scandalized, and he couldn’t tell if it was put on or not. “A lady does not enter a gentleman’s private quarters unchaperoned. Surely you know that.”
“No, actually, I guess I missed that day at etiquette school. Too busy fighting for your mother’s cause and all,” he replied acerbically.
“There’s no reason to be rude,” she said. “I didn’t mean…” She looked momentarily lost for words. “Do you want the wine or not?” she spit out.
He raised a brow at her and took the cup she offered. He quaffed it in four long, deep gulps and set it back on the tray, tipping it on to its side so she’d see its emptiness. “Thank you, princess,” he said with an ironic little bow. “I’m sure I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”
Her dark eyes narrowed in haughty suspicion. “You know, just because my sisters think you’re so great doesn’t mean I do. I don’t trust you, and it’s going to take more than transparent charm to change my mind.”
He met her glare blandly. “You shouldn’t trust me, my lady. You know nothing about me.”
If she were surprised by his response, it didn’t show on her face. “And you know nothing about us, or the life we have here.”
“I know more than you think,” he replied evenly.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
His brows rose, and the lines around his mouth became more pronounced. “I know your youngest sister loves butterflies because they remind her that while life is fleeting, it’s also beautiful. She envies their freedom, and she’s created a haven for them here so that they’ll choose to stay: it’s a choice she’s denied, of course. She doesn’t remember your father as well as the rest of you, and it’s like a hole in her heart that she tries to fill with beauty.
“I know Penelope has more contacts in the world outside these walls than any of you suspect. I know she’s in love with a man from a tiny, prettily named country far from here, a man who came for your mother’s test and failed. Her loyalties are torn; she loves him, but she let you play your little games with him, and now she feels like she’s lost her chance.
“I know that you mistrust everyone on principle, but that it didn’t used to be that way. You used to laugh. You used to live every day like it was your last; not like now, when your life feels like a prison sentence. Your father’s death is as fresh to you as though it happened yesterday, and you don’t let anyone call you by your full name because every time it’s uttered, you remember exactly what you’ve lost.
“I know Emily wishes she could be close to your mother the way she once was. She looks out for all of you the best she can, and this sabotage of your mother’s contestants was her idea. She doesn’t trust, either, but not because she’s worried about herself: it’s you and your sisters she worries about, because she feels like your mother doesn’t anymore.
“I know your mother loves you, contrary to all appearances. She’s lost and confused and she doesn’t know how to handle ruling her country or her family without the man she loved so much.” He took a long breath. Then, “And I know why you dance, Elle.”
She blinked, stunned, and her gaze was blurry with unshed tears. His barrage of words had felt like a tiny thousand arrows to her soul. “You know about the sleeping potion?” she finally managed.
He flashed a brief, wry smile. “Yes. Each night I’ve been here one of your charming sisters has shown up at my door to offer me a bedtime snack. I may have skipped a few etiquette classes, but that hardly seems appropriate.”
“Why did you drink it?” she rasped.
“I’m tired. I want to sleep. I figured I might as well just take your damn wine and save myself a lot of effort.”
At last her head came up, and her eyes met his. “I wish you’d never come here,” she told him in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice.
“I might wish the same thing, my lady. It remains to be seen.” He wavered a little, and a strong hand darted out to grab the doorjamb. “Well, it seems you brew strong. I should go to bed before I keel over. Goodnight, princess; enjoy your dance.” He bowed with a little less precision than usual before closing in the door in her astounded, grief-etched face.
Hotch just can't shed his profiling ways. Tomorrow's the day of reckoning. What's gonna happen!? Stay tuned to find out!