After seeing the portrait of his adolescence, Alexandra had come to regard Liam as a little less than he was. She had expected to see everything similar - and even in that, slightly child-like - after having seen the portrait. Her own innocence stupefied her, because Liam didn't look a lot like before, and didn't look anything like in the painting.
Perhaps it was not because of the features, but because of the way he was carrying himself. His golden eyes shone brighter, his dark hair was longer and unrulier and he appeared all the more alluring. Despite all of that, it was the end of a working day, and he looked what he was: tired. One look at him, and Alexandra knew Mark Fannel was not the only one who hadn't had a wink of sleep last night. And in his hand was a long, naked sword, its end glinting maliciously. Presently, he sheathed the blade and walked up to her.
Alexandra didn't know what to say to him. "Good evening"? Or something more sarcastic like, "nice to meet you"? Or something bitter like, "so, somebody finally found time"? Perhaps, something obnoxious like, "I didn't do that for you, I just didn't want Olivia to win,". Otherwise, the blatant truth and the most obvious thing under the sun, "my ribs ache."?
None suited. None fitted. None described what she was feeling and so, she chose to remain quiet. And perhaps similar things were going on in Liam's mind, for he chose silence as well. But when he had come near enough, and she could see him better than before, she realized he was more than tired. His jaw was firmer and his eyes were harder than what she remembered them to be. But he was more than tired; he was worried - and his eyes softened when they gazed at her - and it gave Alexandra an unexpected lurch of pleasure at the realization that he had been worried for her.
She knew he was noting the changes in appearance - but it was taking him longer than it had taken her. The only logical explanation for which, was that she had changed more than Liam had. Perhaps a minute more of silence, a minute in which Alexandra spotted the Nurse peeping at them through her cabin window. It didn't bother her, because it wouldn't have bothered Liam, who perhaps spent his life being spied at by different personalities of the Palace. Nothing they would talk would be top secret and private: as much was clear. For right now, the one with the broken ribs was no spy and the one with the glowing eyes was no king - there was only an "infirm" and a "concerned".
And that minute soon passed, at the end of which, Alexandra hoped Liam had decided upon something to start with. He had, and it was completely unexpected. In what she knew was the most affectionate gesture of her life, Liam put a hand to her forehead and knelt down by the bed. Silent warmth seeped through her, and the simple gesture, when compared to Olivia's ways set all the forgettable memories of Olivia on a roll. True, she hadn't known Alexandra was present there all along. And still, if that was the kind of a person Olivia had chose to become, then Alexandra was glad she had been exiled. Alexandra was glad she was related to Liam and no longer to Olivia. If she had to betray her sister a thousand more times for this man, she would not hesitate for a second before doing so.
'I know,' Liam almost whispered, though there was no need to do so. 'I know. Olivia.'
That summed it up. Olivia.
'I don't know when and how she changed so much,' Alexandra replied, her voice constricted with emotions. Her chest ached, not because of the broken ribs, it was because the weight of the past four months finally falling upon her - not part by part, but entirely at once. 'I didn't know she could stoop that low. Try to get someone...' But the sentence was best left hanging there. Not everything could be put to words. And regardless of whether they knew it or not, everybody carried a sword within their mouths - that sword which gave the most painful of scars, that sword which needed not a hand to lift it.
He hadn't asked for it, and perhaps he would have been content without the recollection, but Alexandra launched into a second retelling of her first trial. And though it was a repetition, here, the absence of the need to call Olivia, "the Akwandian Queen" and the absence of the need to hide her truest emotion, served the real purpose of sharing a tale. It lifted the weight off her chest. But the void it created was just as much unbearable - just as much helpless. She felt the closest to breaking down she had felt in years, even stronger than the time she had leaked a drop or two before Mark Fannel had wiped them off. It could be that Liam understood, because he lifted his hand off her forehead and weaved it into her scalp - exactly the way Mark tousled his hair - but in a far gentler and relaxing massage. It didn't occur to her until years and years later, as to why a king would do that, why Liam didn't consider it beneath him - and when, from the swift movement of his eyes she could see, he knew a Nurse was watching them. For all she knew, it was soothing enough to make her forget about crying, to make her realize that a few people were not worth crying for.
'A lot of people change - only perhaps a handful do not,' he said, 'sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. And we couldn't have done anything to prevent it, or to speed it up, or to slow it down-'
'And so we shouldn't let that affect us?' Alexandra asked, interrupting and internally surprised at how calm her voice sounded.
'Hurried as ever,' Liam replied, breaking into a grin and shaking his head. A few tufts of dark hair tumbled to his eyes, and he pushed them up, disheveling himself further, except for the fact that it just looked all the better. 'Well, but you aren't wrong. Crying over them, is like crying over spilt milk. If, you will give me the liberty to speak that, with Olivia in question.'
'Had you heard the liberties she took, in speaking of you, you wouldn't be half as gallant.' Alexandra told him.
'Which compels me to clarify that in case Olivia was jumping off a cliff, I wouldn't do the same.' Liam informed, his eyes shining brighter than before. Maybe because he had just realized that Alexandra had not changed as much as she appeared to have. And that, when it came to the humorous bond between them, it hadn't been snipped.
'That's true,' she agreed, 'but in all probability, she would make sure to push you down first.'
It made them both laugh, and the action didn't hurt as much as it had the previous time. With the movement, Alexandra became aware of the portrait still wedged in her waist band, and if she moved her hand an inch down - she would touch its edges. And then she wondered if she ought to tell him of it. That small frame falling into Olivia's hands and making things the way they were right then. She looked down, blinking and wondering what Liam's reaction would be, looking at his own, a decade old portrait.
'You want to say something?' He asked, back in a whisper. Back with the uncomplicated assurance that all her secrets were safe with him.
But Alexandra decided against it. And as her eyes flew back to his face, she remembered of another, better thing to say. 'I do,' she nodded, grinning, '- you know, the portrait Olivia saw you in for the first time ... I saw it too. I was twelve - and...' at the last moment she faltered - that was the not the best compliment she was going to give him.
But Liam looked positively interested. 'And?' He asked, just a little higher in volume.
'Er,' she moistened her lips. Then because it was so funny, blurted out, 'no offence - but I said that you looked like a wolf.'
That laugh was higher and lasted longer than the one before. And this time, Alexandra's stomach ached when she finally stopped. Stopped, and threw a glance at the Nurse's window, where she caught her retreating figure. Though herself a spy, she didn't like the eavesdropping - and upon that the fact that the Nurse was so blatant about it.
'The Nurse is eavesdropping, Liam. And she seems revolted - at goodness knows what.' She told him, in the lowest whisper she could conjure. But he heard, and shook his head again.
'Welcome to my world.' he shrugged. And then shook his head with an almost morose expression, 'I don't think Nurse Rose would be surprised if I grew antlers right now - but she's astonished if I laugh like a human. We need more sensible nurses.'
'Wait,' Alexandra frowned, catching one part of all. 'Nurse Rose?' She asked, tilting her head. Apparently, Liam did not know that the second Dovish princess was the nurse's namesake. His face underwent no change as he confirmed the fact, and Alexandra sighed. 'My second sister - she was,' and caught herself midway, 'she is - Rose too.'
Was a grin the best way to reply to everything?
In Liam's case, this appeared to be so, for whatever the matter be - his face inevitably broke into a grin. 'Well,' he then said, 'that is quite a common name.'
It was. But another name, that had dropped into Alexandra's mind all of a sudden, as uncomfortably as a crateful of worms - was not common at all. Why, no parents would even think of naming their children "death".
'Than.' She declared, in a low voice, not looking remotely anywhere. The name, she didn't know why it was scary to take it - she wasn't anywhere afraid of (though she did NOT want anything to do with) meeting the man. Was it somewhat an evolutionary trait, or was fear contagious? Had it spread from the spies of the Idgard to her? And if yes, then perhaps, that the reason that each time she took his name, she felt a dull adrenaline rush. But if the assassination had been unsuccessful, then - where was Than? 'What of him?' She asked, and of course, a grin was not the best way to reply to everything, because Liam did not look like he knew how to grin anymore.
With ease in the power, such as Alexandra knew she had never had, Liam showed her a hand to stop. And it was quite understandable that she did, because "Than" was never a safe topic to discuss - not with anybody. Turned out, the reason for the interruption was not the topic, but the gravity of the topic. Because it had been alright before, but now, in case that had to be discussed, somebody named Rose had to leave.
'Nurse Rose, if you would be so kind as to check upon Argus Level - I'm afraid he's been torpid for too long.' He called out. The very thing sounded a like a true lie: that there could have been an Argus Level and that he could have been unconscious, but there was no chance that Liam was "afraid" for it. They heard something drop in the cabin - and heard no effort being made to pick it up. Out came a redder-than-a-rose in the face Nurse Rose, and she didn't so much as look towards them before proceeding to one of the curtained off portions down far away.
'Guilty conscience.' Liam muttered after her, and then turned back to the patient Alexandra, 'Than, yes. In custody - and out of it at one tonight.'
'What?'
He exhaled, realizing he'd have to explain in detail. 'If there is one thing you should know about Than, it is that he is cunning and deadly, but he is not a prolific warrior, by any means. Their first attempt at assassination is the deadliest - and that first attempt were the poisonous and inescapable arrows. In case I was to survive that, it would have been a dirtier game. And I did survive it and it did become a dirtier game. The rest were alright - the guards got them. Only,' he stopped for a second, 'only - I had to take interest in Than.'
Alexandra realized he was too modest to say that the "interest" meant "deal with" and that whatever else had happened, at the end of the day - the assassin hadn't gotten away this once.
'So yes, in custody.' He repeated, 'And I did speak to him for two hours - two depressing hours, which is why speaking to you feels all the better now. The fact is - he is cunning, he is skilled and we cannot keep him in custody for long. He will escape - through whatever means that might be. And if he does escape, he will keep the enmity with us until the day he dies. Which is why, leaving him free - respectfully - is the best option we have.'
'Kill him!' She exclaimed, raising her head a little and slamming it back on the pillow in exaggeration. 'Just kill him! He deserves it!'
'You don't think that has crossed our minds?' Asked he, 'Alexandra, if today I were to kill you here, I would have the Espionage Council's wrath to face. You know why? Because no single man can be brought to the stake without making at least a hundred, worse enemies among his associates. And in Than's case - those enemies would be as-sas-sins! Imagine a hundred assassins bent on revenge - out in the streets of Idgard, murdering left, right and center - you think it is worth it? Kingdoms like Akwanda - with minds stuck two miles beneath the earth - are the only ones who even think of making men into murderers. Only they think that taking others' lives is a matter that can be made into a profession. But the weeds live among the plants and if weeds do sprout pests - everybody pays. We are paying - Idgard is paying - we don't want to pay more!'
Silence. Liam had said all that in a whisper, but they had been words sharper than arrows. Not something Alexandra had thought him capable of - words were supposed to be her stronghold. But Liam was good enough with them, too. Good enough to leave her speechless.
It was a deafening silence where in the absence of words, Alexandra's mind buzzed with thoughts. Half of wariness, a little understanding and a lot more frustration welled up in her, but even as she was searching for words to express them, the understanding expanded - and it engulfed the frustration, wiping it out.
'But do you realize that letting Than free is taking a step back?' She asked warily, the words drowning in the silence, 'That to Akwanda, it will send a weak message. An act of...'
'Of?' He prompted, and Alexandra replied, although she would have preferred not using the word at all.
'Of cowardice.' She said, and even to her, the diction sounded too harsh. But if they were friends, she wouldn't flatter Liam. Be it bitter and harsh or sweet and mellow, she would prefer to tell him only the truth.
'Cowardice.' He repeated, standing up and pushing his hair back. And Alexandra realized she was in for receiving a piece of his mind. Whatever else he be, kind and civil, modest and amiable, Liam was a king - and kings would appreciate anything but being accused of cowardice. 'Then I would love to know what your definition of bravery is, Alexandra. Is it a man with a sword in his hand? Is bravery two bulls wrestling? Two elephants warring?' He asked, 'And if it is, then you must know that when two elephants war, the grass beneath gets trampled. And if Akwanda and Vedessa war, you see who becomes the grass?'
Alexandra shook her head, because she honestly did not know who. Was it the treasuries, the economies, the soldiers?
'You.' Liam informed, with delicate stress upon the word. 'The spies of Idgard. And the citizens - at least the spies have signed up for it - but what about, to put things in perspective for, what about the children at the Shelter for Abandoned Kids and Orphans? What crime have they committed? Neither did they give Olivia a portrait of mine, neither they did reject her, nor did they hurt anybody's pride. I don't want their lives to be torn apart, depressed and forced into shackles - because of my personal skirmishes. You know, Alexandra, how long it would have taken somebody to weave this curtain?' Liam asked, all of a sudden. His hands behind his back, he had walked over to the silk curtains of the infirmary and was looking at them with polite disinterest. When Alexandra didn't reply, he turned to look at her, 'You do?'
'Er...' she began, not quite realizing what he meant by it. Or why he was so interested in a curtain, from talking of trampled grass a minute ago.
'Took them at least three days. At least three days to weave this curtain.' He nodded, and then unsheathed his sword. It seemed crazy to Alexandra as he swung the blade and severed the drape into two, her eyes widened as the unraveled fabric crumpled in a heap at his feet. 'And how long did it take me to snip it?' He asked, turning to her. 'A fraction of a second.' And Liam stooped and picked the silk off the ground, sheathing his sword and striding up to her. 'This is destruction Alexandra. It might have taken a thousand day to make something, but it will take only a single to sever it. And above all, why should we wrangle with Akwanda. Have we not set standards for ourselves? No Idgardian is as inexpensive as to be flung into the flames of war, to smolder and burn. If Akwanda wants to do that, they are unwelcome – and they shall not be entertained.'
Not be entertained. Why, when had he ever entertained Olivia? It was as if those two had been born to oppose, to be at each other's throats and to never have a conciliation. Alexandra did not mind – she had seen enough of her oldest sister to not mind. She raised a hand and took the curtain from Liam. 'They would have to be mighty skilled to weave this way.' She informed, changing the topic. 'I would entangle myself into the fibers, approximately five minutes after I start.'
'Nobody badgered you to learn weaving?' He asked, gladly receiving the change in topic. It was a queer, once-in-a-lifetime friendship - Liam fit with her like pieces of a puzzle. 'I am surprised.'
'I would have been surprised too,' she told him, partially astonished that not a minute ago, they had been discussing war and politics. 'If they hadn't. But they did, and I produced at least a mile of textile waste before giving up.'
'I expected no better.' Liam shook his head as if he had really seen Alexandra's epic teenage failures at being a lady. Had he done so, he would never have consented to riding a horse with her, the very first day in the forest. Thinking of the days when tumbling down horsebacks was a common occurrence made her grin - not all memories of Doveland were tainted. Beyond the translucent windowpane, scattered stars were visible and it was nightfall - Alexandra found it hard to believe that less than twenty four hours ago, she had been dying with the effort of reaching the place she was in right now, and that she had been bleakly in time.
Akwanda had taught her quite a few things. One thing however, was the bitterest.
'My stay in Akwanda,' she began, wanting to know what Liam's thoughts on it would be, 'taught me that there is skill needed in being anything - even a maid. A skill that I don't possess. And all the while I was feeling vindictive - the way Olivia was ordering me around. Don't all of them feel that way? Don't the Royals - take too much for granted?'
'Nobody is born a servitor,' Liam said - and as usual, his thoughts were very different from hers. Very different, but very much acceptable (more than hers, in any case). 'And nobody is born a royal. No, they are not. It might be a royal family, but the newborns don't have "I am Royal" printed across their foreheads.' He continued, and as a person who valued deep conversations, Alexandra felt inexplicably impressed as her eyes followed him across the room. 'It is their upbringing that makes them somebody. Yours has made you a princess, Alexandra - no matter where you stay. And more than anything else,' he nodded, he was at the door - it was a final thing he was going to say-
'More than anything else, you have kept yourself alive. You have kept Alexandra, a fiery princess, alive. And when you did become a maid, even if it was a pretense, the lack of respect made your identity feel threatened. That identity which has survived exclusion, exile and the espionage. That identity which you show me - which you have when you speak to me, Alexandra - because you will never be Mabel. That Dovish Princess who didn't trust me one bit seven years ago,' he pointed to her and nodded confidently, 'this is her. This is the Alexandra who will entertain nobody's discourtesy. And it will be, this way, forever.'
'You seem much too confident!' She exclaimed - but was a little too late, because Liam was already gone. In the silence that surrounded her once again, the comfortable, desirable silence, she pulled out his portrait from her waistband and frowned at it. Sometimes, the present version of him seeming better, other times, the older. 'I tell you, this once - you are wrong. I change faster than the tides do. I will change again, very soon.'
But late that night, and late into countless other nights, her face buried in her hands, Alexandra accepted - again and again until it became a part of her - that nobody had ever spoken truer words.
* * *
More than a month of lying in bed had made Alexandra cranky and irritable. With only the nurse for company, whose name had to be Rose, she either watched out of the window, the incessant rains pouring down the black clouds or she thought and thought herself out - sleeping never appealing to her. Alexandra had begun to fear if she would at all be able to walk when she got up.
Her ribs, on the other hand, felt a lot better. She could speak without pauses, nod, lift her head, do all basic things. Nurse Rose said that when she would be able to sit up, then she would be discharged.
Alexandra wondered what was going on outside. In the council - who all had gone on trials - how many more letters had been exchanged between various couples they knew of - and who all had found someone to exchange letters with. Alexandra wanted to be discharged - she had decided that the moment she was and had reported at the Council, no matter what, she'd take a day off and visit the Shelter. If destiny smiled upon her, she might meet Betty and Sarah, if not, at least she could have a look at that building - the building that had sheltered her when she had needed it the most.
And this morning however, was different right from the beginning. Another day when Alexandra woke up to a heavy downpour - she pulled out Moira and looked into its shiny blade. And then she was staring at the sixteen year old Liam, wondering why he looked so disinterested in the portrait, when-
'There's a parcel for you, Miss Mabel,' Nurse Rose said, sticking her head out of her cabin. Alexandra jumped - as best as it was possible to do so, lying down - and pushed the portrait beneath her pillow.
'Should I come and take it?' She then asked, steamed both at being disturbed and not being mobile.
'There wasn't any especial need for sarcasm here, Miss. I was coming anyhow.' Nurse Rose said, handing her a small box.
'Sorry,' she relented, it was general consent that it was fine to be rude to anybody but a nurse. 'I just hate lying down all day, and it's been more than a month.'
Nurse Rose told her that she was very lucky to receive only a month of it - and that any more damage to the ribs could have taken a year. She was asked to not give any further details of severe injuries - and when she had left, Alexandra pulled open the lid of the box. Inside was a black piece of cloth. She picked it up and the fabric unfolded into a veil.
The black veil she had been wearing in Akwanda. The minister had pulled it off, and nobody had given it a moment's notice.
How is it back? Who sent it to me? Alexandra wondered, then peered into the box again. Now, there was a note and a scroll left there.
She picked up the note first, for it was easier to read. The very same beautiful, loopy handwriting she had been expecting. Here, however, it was a tad bit hurried.
Alexandra
Yes, that's your veil. I do know it's yours, it comes from Akwanda and it has been torn out a cloak. It was returned - honorably, I should add - and Olivia has sent a note with it. I haven't opened it. You're claim on any letter from Olivia precedes mine, don't think it's because she's your sister - it's because you, not I, have been the prime sufferer of her plans. Read it, and if you think there's something I ought to know in it, send it back. Otherwise - it's all yours.
Rest. Don't you dare try to write back.
'That sounds like a threat,' Alexandra said to herself, reading the last line. And her eyes fell on the scroll, her pulse quickening as she took out the Akwandian letter. It was smooth, and sealed with a red emblem of a crescent moon - Akwanda's royal seal. Alexandra broke it - and unrolled the scroll.
It was same spiky hand that belonged to Olivia.