The Lost Princess

Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Moment of Clarity

Thorindir fought his way through the ferocious storm, drawn by Amara's cries. He had never heard such raw emotion—such gut-wrenching shrieks of utter lunacy. The girl was deranged. He knew if he did not fetch her, she would surely be struck by lightning. As it was, she had been out there long enough to catch her death of cold.

Earwen had begged him to go find the lost princess when the rain had begun to pour and the lightning flashed across the sky in yellow ribbons. He had refused, assuring Earwen that Amara would have fled the kingdom, but a palace aide had alerted them that Princess Amara was out in the north garden, screaming at the storm.

And now here he was, trudging out in this torrent. The wind tore at his clothes, rain slapping his face. Curse the girl for all the trouble she had caused, but her sobbing shouts tugged at his heart, and he strode on. Her screams died and were soon swept away by the wind. He reached the pavilion. It was empty. He looked out into the pouring rain, searching for his quarry.

His eyes fell on a small, dark shape lying in the grass in the middle of the field. He jogged forward. Reaching the lost princess, he stared down at her minute form. His heart squeezed tight, begging him to take pity on the young woman lying spent and broken in the grass. She looked no larger than a child. Her clothes were soaked through, her skin pale and sickly compared to its normal, healthy deep bronze. The rain had lessened and now only drizzled like a soft summer mist. He bent down, brushing the drenched tendrils of hair back from her drawn face. She was cold as ice. He sighed and scooped her up in his arms for what seemed like the hundredth time. She muttered and tried to push him away. She was so small. He barely felt the weight of her in his arms. And as he looked down at her distraught countenance that seemed to find no peace even in unconsciousness, sympathy niggled in his mind. But he squelched it as best he could and strode back to the castle carrying his charge.

Earwen was waiting in the doorway when he arrived. "Oh," she gasped when she saw the state Amara was in. "I will fetch Eramire."

Thorindir nodded. "We must get her warm," he replied.

Earwen walked with him. "I have had the brazier lit," she said.

"Good."

Earwen jogged down a hallway to search for her sister. Thorindir laid the young woman on a couch close to the fire. She murmured again, something unintelligible. Her eyes flickered open, and she sat up, dazed, coming nose to nose with Thorindir. The elf man jerked to a standing position, his face hardening.

"Where am I?" Amara demanded, eyes clouded with confusion. She tried to get up from the couch.

"Lie back, Amara," Thorindir commanded, and he gently pressed her back down. "Eramire is coming to look at you."

She shrank back from his touch, studying him warily. "I'm fine," she protested finally.

"You are a wealth of trouble, which I did not bargain for. Now, for the first time in your life, lay down your stubborn ways and listen to the people who ca—who know what's best for you."

Amara stared up at him. Even half-frozen to death, rebellion still burned in her golden gaze.

"You are unbelievable," he said.

"I thought you wanted me to leave," she replied.

"And you couldn't do even that right," he snapped in annoyance.

Amara pushed herself up in a fury, but he immediately moved to restrain her, and she shrank back from him.

"Don't be foolish."

"Let me leave."

"No."

"Why not?" The lost princess's voice was strangled, like she was about to sob.

He looked into her golden eyes and saw the hurt she had suffered. He remembered the broken sound of her cries out in the storm. "We need you." He looked at her sternly. "And as much as you're loath to admit it, you need us. You aren't going anywhere."

She considered him, and slowly her body relaxed. He sighed in relief and sat in a chair across from her. Silence stretched. He watched her play with her fingers and study her nails with extreme interest.

"I'm sorry about the wagon," she murmured. "And your eye."

He looked at her in shock. His hand went automatically to his bruised eye. "It will be healed soon," he replied. "No permanent harm done."

He could not hide the smile in his words, and as Amara looked up to meet his gaze, he thought for a moment she might smile back. Just then Earwen returned, Eramire just a step behind her. Thorindir drew back as Eramire rushed toward Amara. She knelt before the girl reclining on the couch.

"I'm fine, Your Highness," Amara said, trying to sit up before Eramire could say or do anything.

Eramire shook her head. "My dear, you were out in the freezing rain for some time," she replied as she began to examine the bedraggled princess. Her voice was hoarse and strained with every word she spoke. "You're freezing to the touch," she scolded.

"I don't even feel cold," Amara countered, waving her hand in dismissal of the elf queen's fears. She looked like she wished they would all just leave her alone.

Eramire looked alarmed at Amara's reply and turned to Earwen. "Go and fetch herbs from the palace healer. Tell him Amara is suffering from exposure. He will give you what you need."

Earwen rushed away to do her sister's bidding, and Eramire in turn looked at Thorindir, saying, "Go and fill a pot with water, and place it over the fire to boil."

He nodded and quickly returned with the items just as Eramire was saying to Amara, "Let me see your hand."

Amara rolled her eyes but offered her hand to the woman.

Eramire exhaled in relief. Amara's hand was very white, but it was not turning blue. "We must get you warm," she said, standing just as Earwen returned with the herbs and items to make tea. Thorindir took them from her.

"Grab some blankets, Earwen, and then we will move the couch closer to the fireplace."

Amara sighed noisily, and Eramire gave her a hard look, seeming to hope it would keep the young woman from trying to get up.

Earwen nodded and rushed off, returning within a few moments. Soon Amara was bundled with heaps of blankets.

Thorindir handed Eramire the herbs, a teapot, and a cup. They all sat in silence as Eramire ladled hot water into the teapot, pouring it over some special concoction. Soon the room smelled of mint, basil, and spices. The scent made Amara's eyes droop. Coupled with the weight of the blankets and the heat of the fire, she began to fight to keep her eyes open. Her teeth chattered noisily as Eramire approached with the steaming cup of mysterious tea.

"Drink all of this. It will chase away the cold."

Amara took the cup in her now-shaking hands and sipped cautiously. As soon as the hot drink touched her lips, her eyelids became heavy, her chin sank to her chest, and as sleep overwhelmed her, Amara dreamed.

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