Althea
Guests bustled in and out of the palace, most of them talking about the Lola Rose incident as they continued to spew their disgust for the circumstance. I held my old father by one of his arms, trudging our way up to one of the guest rooms.
Aarmen sat next to me in the grand guest room of the palace, sobbing in his hands as we waited for the king.
"You know, daughter, it's because of your cursed destiny that my Lola is dead," he sniffled. I sat unmoving next to him.
Within a matter of minutes in the carriage, he had spun a tale about me that was enough to prove to Julian I would not live in his palace anymore.
Warrior Ashtor came by the doorway, looking nervous. He glanced once at my father, then motioned for me to come out.
"Dear court writer, please don't go missing like this. I haven't seen His Honour so tense before," he said in anxiousness as he gestured to enter another room. I pressed my lips together helplessly to avoid a treacherous tear.
His Honour wouldn't have to be tensed about me. Ever again.
Once inside, I didn't know how fast it happened. One second I heard the door shut and the other, I was engulfed in a fierce hug. Pressed against him, arms surrounding me as he cradled my head to his chest.
No matter how hard I tried to hold myself, my tears soaked up the fabric of his dress.
"No one would belittle you or your father for what your sister did, Mila. I'll make sure of that." he rubbed my back in slow, soothing circles. "You do not need to hide away from anyone.
"Or from me... ever again." He just kept holding me, moving his fingers through my hair as I continued to cry pathetically.
That was the level of my cruelty. Not letting him know what I was crying for. That it wasn't my sister's demise. It was the demise of us.
He looked down at my eyes, his gaze holding such pity, longing, but he said nothing, knowing no amount of words can heal a person of someone's death.
"It's- it's alright," I nodded furiously, backing away. "It is natural to cry when... when someone dies, can't c- control it," I hiccuped, nodding in acceptance.
He raised a hand to wipe my tears, but I twisted my head aside. "M- My father," I wiped my tears on my own, "He w- wants to tell you... something."
Let go, let him go, Coretta. Free him from your cruelty, the voices chanted within me, forbidding me to even look at him.
"Althea..." his voice broke. "Are you angry with me? Do you think I told Alexander of your sister's doing?"
"No!" I whimpered, furious that he was taking the blame on himself. "You said you would never do that. I'm... I'm angry at myself! I-"
"Ssh," he held me again, this time making me sit on a low laid couch. My whimpers were muffled against him as he gently rocked me back and forth. Like calming a baby.
"You are in a fragile state of mind, Mila. Sometimes we cannot understand what is happening around us, and feel lost when someone passes away." he held me firmer, rubbing my back reassuringly.
"You have your father with you, you have me, then what's there to worry about, hmm?" he asked softly over my head.
I felt a sudden stabbing pain rattle through my heart at his words, so painful, I had to clutch my chest. What followed were tingles of electricity buzzing from within me, spreading from my heart to the rest of my body. Excruciatingly slowly.
YOU ARE READING
Rendezvous in the Romanowskian Empire
Historical Fiction"And... the fifth rule," he came forward, locking me between him and the slab again. "This should be the last time you talked to me like that," he lowered his face to my level, spiking my heart rate further. "Next time you rant on or call me by the...
