The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 15

Evelyn

The details of the landscape of Etheron were becoming clearer and clearer with each step downwards that she took. As the mountainsides grew less steep, she and her army moved faster. She could now begin to make out small clusters of houses surrounded by the rows and rows of deep green that were the vineyards of the Branches. Even further ahead and a little to the south, she saw the intricate web of sparkling silvery grey rivers threading southwards, branching out into a large marsh area.

They would land just north of the actual marsh, where most of the winers had settled and where the river was still wide and strong and relentless in its movements. Just across that large belt of muddy water, there was a holdfast. The holdfast was that of the minor House of Eugene, whose main profits came from the taxation of the vineyards, and whose power had grown when one of their daughters went to seduce a Prince of Etheron, but ended up in the bed of his sister.

That had been half a decade ago, but it felt half a century.

The dark outlines became sharper, and suddenly, the building was taking a shade of grey rather than the black of a silhouette that it had held until then. Evelyn had to stop walking for a second to take in the grey stones, the wavering bluish green that she could see - or imagined she could see - when she clenched eyelids together until her eyes were almost shut.

“Is that where she lived?” Saqui asked, coming to a stand beside Evelyn. “The girl who helped you when you came to live with us?”

Evelyn stood still for a moment, appreciating the view; beyond that holdfast, which had been her last taste of Etheron, that kingdom of hers - it had always been hers in some way - with its green hills and yellow fields and dark forests was splayed out. The sun shone through grey clouds that carried rain, and it all looked so hauntingly, inexplicably beautiful.

“Amalia,” she corrected Saqui. “And yes. That’s her home.”

Saqui looked saddened. “I imagine you’ve missed her.”

“I have.” But Evelyn’s mind was far from Amalia, far from her conversation with Saqui, traveling over her homeland’s plains, where hunters rode atop their horses, wearing their finest clothing to impress the King; where farmers and jewelers and butchers and merchants made way for her in the market place, and bowed with a little, “Your Grace”; where the villagers held feasts where young girls danced in white dresses around bonfires, and artists painted it all to be so much more idyllic that reality.

Saqui took her hand. “Would you miss me as much as her?”

“No,” Evelyn said, and was surprised by Saqui’s hurt look. Then she understood. “Oh, you were still talking about Amalia.”

Saqui continued looking as though she might cry. “You really never loved me. Not in any way?”

Evelyn sighed internally. “Saqui…”

But Saqui shooked her head and pulled her hand free from Evelyn’s. “Don’t even…”

“I never loved Amalia either,” she said. “You know me. I told you. I don’t.”

“Well, I’m sorry I hoped I might be able to help you!” Saqui exclaimed.

Evelyn drew in a deep breath and stepped up close to Saqui, staring her into the eyes. “Don’t ever try to help me if I haven’t asked you. I don’t need it. Do you understand?”

 Now, Evelyn was almost certain Saqui would cry. But the girl kept it together long enough to say, “I only…"

“I don't care,” Evelyn cut her off. “You knew this would happen. You’re too clever to think I’d fall in love with you. I know that you’re sweet and clever and beautiful and more than deserving of love, but I don’t fall in love.” She looked at Saqui, the girl who had helped her and distracted her, who had cared for her and supported her and even loved her, and knew without a doubt that she did not love her in return. “I don’t love, and it was your mistake to believe you could change that.”