Chapter 5-(Pedar POV)-Pedar




I dabbed Amaranthe's brow carefully, using my glove-turned inside-out-and the water from the pond. I only wished that I had something better for her; clear and cool water from the freshest mountain spring, and a silk handkerchief would have sufficed. My eyes travelled her pale face. Her almond eyes, framed by dark lashes and usually so sharp, were soft and frail looking. Her straight-cut nose was kinder looking. And her lips, which were drawn perfectly upon her face like small roses, were yielding for once. She was truly beautiful; in heart and body.
Scowling, I turned to glare at her father. "Wizard Cosmas!" I growled, using the most demanding and confident tone of voice I knew. "How dare you!"
His lips upturned a little, no traces of expression over his long wrinkled face. "How couldn't I? This is the only way, my dear Prince Pedar. The only way."
The cat-man hissed, yowling so beastly the hairs on my neck raised, and flailed his limbs as if he were a feline, clutching, scraping, scratching the ground and anything he could get his hands on. He looked to be in incredible pain, and I pitied him, but I grasped Amaranthe tighter to my chest to keep her safely out of his reach, try to be careful not to jar her swollen left hand. I eyed it for a moment. Was it broken, or bruised?
It's his fault.
My eyes returned to Cosmas. "How is this the only way?" I demanded. "How could you do this to her? How can you? What exactly are you receiving from this farce, Wizard? Tell me now!"
He tugged at his beard carefully, as he'd done before, yet he suddenly seemed pale and wan. He frowned sadly. "She must love. She is so sorely lacking in emotion, and to have love would be the cure to all of this. I cannot let her out into the world as she is, and I know it is my fault. I have turned an ordinary, beautiful little girl into an acetic, recluse of a daughter with a detached way of looking upon the world."
He sighed, then made an odd symbol in the air. The cat-man froze instantly, in mid-hiss. Cosmas's dark beetle eyes flicked to me.
"This is the last trial I'll give her, I promise you."
I furrowed my brow. "So this is why you are so intent on marrying her off? To test the poor girl? Sir, this is your daughter! She is a living, breathing part of flesh you created, and yet you . . . why . . ." My eyes flared as I attempted to regain some measure of composure. "What is the last trial, Wizard?"
"I have three men who would be good matches for her now. She must choose one to be able to leave, but if she does not . . ." His lips thinned, his eyes shining. "If she chooses none, then I will be forced to keep her here. As much as I don't desire that conclusion . . . there is simply no way for her to live in a world of emotion that she can't identify with. You have to understand that much, Prince."
I looked at Amaranthe, then, staring at her dirt-smudged face, and running my fingers over the pale sheen of sweat that had formed over her forehead. So beautiful. She was worthy of beauty and kindness all her life, and yet she spent her days digging holes. She was comical in her otherworld humor, but so sensible it was frustrating, and all the time looking for something to preoccupy herself with. She was unlike the courtiers and the other female's I'd known; never wearing frills, putting on airs, attempting to impress me with much or little knowledge, and batting their dismal eyelashes. Perhaps . . .
Perhaps that was why I was so deeply in love with her.
Her favorite word was 'perhaps' . . . she loved to boggle one's mind. She was witty and yet knew where to draw the line where her quick remarks were concerned. She was so . . . so special.
And I was a fool.
If she had not turned me into a frog last year, I would never have become this lost. I'd loved her since before her sixteenth year, but had said nothing, even when the fiancés her father had supplied became more and more my rivals. I had thought to win her over first with friendship, and though the very idea was sly and scheming on my part, I was unable to stop myself. I had thought that with a certain amount of time, she'd come to care for me as I did for her. It was silly of me, now that I thought about it; she saw me nothing more than a friend. It had been that way for the past four years.
"Who are the men, Cosmas?" I whispered, not daring to glance his way-I was not sure if I would go for his throat or collapse on the floor weeping for the pain this man had brought me.