Hidden Spirit {Completed}

Chapter Two: Stumbled

The next days were much the same. Rosa had appeared at dinner without a word to the others, and Amelia excused herself early. When she wandered the floors above the others after excusing herself, Amelia took to exploring the keep, though she was always careful to return to her room before dinner was done. How long were they to stay there, after all? Surely not long.

During the day, she sat flipping through the multiple volumes of hide-covered books or watching the horses out in the fields only a short ways from her high window. She was content enough. There was always the nagging feeling in her mind that she had purpose elsewhere, but Jed had moved her for a reason....

Two weeks of silence and hiding was all it took for Amelia to learn each of the hallways of the top two floors above the main entryway, which led to the dining hall, an office, a sort of war room, and the servants' quarters and kitchens which were tucked behind the dining hall. Soon she began to venture from her room during the day. She took her time while exploring then, trusting she knew quick escapes from the others. Sometimes she would pause to take note of a piece of art, or clusters of new flowers placed on the tables in some corners. Now and then she would glimpse Andrew roaming the halls or reading in the courtyard. Twice she had seen him arguing with Rosa.

She had never seen Jed or Lucia anywhere but dinner.

Eventually the weeks became months. Amelia's mind became clouded and lulled by the rhythm of staying in that keep. Was it worth trying to interact with the others? How long before they be able to go back home? Jed never gave her a straight answer. Lucia seemed to keep to herself. Even Rosa refused to speak with the princess, which she didn't mind at all. Andrew would notice Amelia and smile or wave, to which she generally gave no response other than to duck her head, though a part of her always wondered if he could have helped her. She'd been told that the entire reason they'd moved here, to this small outer province of Firica, was to stay safe with the royal family of this country. That meant Andrew, the crown prince, surely had connections to people who could help them. And besides that, Amelia was... curious about him.

If he were in a place such as the courtyards under a window or walking in the village outside the walls, Amelia would never fail to pause and watch him. He was the son of a king, and yet he was there, in a simple keep and village away from the country's capital. Everything about him spoke as though he'd grow into great potential power, yet between the clothes he wore, his walking about, and how little time he spent training with more than a couple men spoke nothing of a prince. Not a Firican prince, anyway. From the kind of royalty that Amelia had read in her many books growing up. Was he no longer connected to a real throne?

On another day, Amelia was stuck following her same activities she had performed every day, until suddenly her feet stopped short. She'd almost stumbled behind the corner of the walls, but the voices drew her to a sharp halt. She stood frozen.

"That old man should stick to his own affairs while he is here! Nothing in your planning nor your strategizing has worked to make any progress. He is just as useless and sloppy as every piggish Constentinian alive! And that girl! Oh! That worthless, empty — what else could she possibly need from living in her perfect, spoiled, trampling life she had before? She doesn't belong here. These lands don't welcome her, not that she seems to approve of them. Such high standards she lived in before that she can't even touch a meal, or share a conversation, or move to make contact with anyone here. Does she think so highly of herself that she cannot even fathom being stuck in such a lowly place as this? Is there nothing better to do than whine, or hide, or cry? Am I supposed to feel sorry? I would understand if her king father had merely sent her away! With an attitude like that, I surely would have. Doesn't it seem she is stuck here as punishment? Though the punishment seems more for us, at this progression. If you do not begin to make changes, Lucia, I will!" Rosa gave an infuriated scream, and her footsteps stormed off in another direction.

Silenced, and mostly confused, Amelia's vision was further obscured as she swept herself back in the direction she'd come.

Did they think she chose this? Did they think she was supposed to be happy? Where was her family — where were her familiar halls and her brothers and her companions? What had the Firicans lost that she hadn't?

She swiftly turned a corner and stumbled as she ran directly into the body of a tall, hard figure.

"M-my apologies. I did not see you," rushed the princess, quickly dropping her eyes and being sure to keep her voice low. He would see the silver streaks of tears dripping down her face otherwise, and she had no wish of allowing her emotions to betray her. She quickly dabbed at her eyes.

"Amelia?" asked Andrew's warm voice. "Well, what a surprise. I should be more careful." He chuckled; it was a soft sound. His voice rang comfortably in her ears and she allowed it briefly to comfort her in the way that he kept his voice at her same volume, though her chest still throbbed and it wasn't all because of his sister's harsh accusations.

Andrew extended his hand to rest on her shoulder. "I—"

Her body jerked from under his grasp, exposing for the briefest of instants her wet cheeks.

Andrew hesitated for a moment, realizing something was wrong. Amelia was stuck for the instant she was free of his gaze between bolting and staying, but once she looked back at him she was frozen again.

His tender voice floated wearily through her ears, "Hey, are you alright?"

In that instant she didn't know what made her do it — they had hardly ever spoken — but she took a step forward. Ever so slowly her hand was brushing against his collar. She closed her eyes with a poorly steadied breath and leaned up to the unmoving sculpture. Their lips pressed together; for that moment, he could see not her tears, and she could not see his eyes trying to track her every motion.

That first kiss, so unsure and nerve-wracking for Amelia; her hot and flustered lips against his calm face and mouth. The elated feeling clashed against the sorrow she felt until her entire body went numb. The brief high she'd felt from doing it was nothing compared to what she really needed. The kiss was wrong. It meant nothing. It meant only another moment for escape.

For Andrew, it felt like something else had taken over. His mind fought every breath he felt of hers against his cheeks. He was completely caught off guard by her move, but that didn't stop him from pulling her closer. He guided her cheek to him with the tracing of his thumb over her warm skin. Their lips had just again come together when she seemed to jerk back to herself, pulling out of his grasp and away from his stance. For a quick instant he caught sight of her eyes before she hid her face in her hands, and doubled over into a sob against the wall.

Her eyes... her violet eyes had surprised him, as that was the first time he'd had a chance to look at them full on, however briefly. Andrew was forced to shove the surprise from his mind as he looked back to her sobbing. Immediately he felt guilt. He crouched beside her, trying to offer comfort as she cried.

"It's alright, sweetheart. Everything is alright," he whispered, rubbing his large hands up and down her back.

His hands were quickly moved off as she stood, pushing against the wall. He couldn't tell whether she was steadying herself or trying to jerk away.

"I... I'll leave you in peace," he murmured, seeing as she wasn't going to look at him again. Trying to spare her he turned and hurried down the hallway to find his mother. They had some speaking to do.