The falling stars will tell you,
How often I wish for the unthinkable.
12th ☾
The Forbidden Room
Something fell into the fountain behind us.
Lost and dazed in the moment, it made both of us jump on our feet. I turned around and saw a boulder underneath the clear water. No wonder the water from the fountain splashed on both of us, fairly drenching our clothes, particularly mine.
I placed a hand over my wildly beating heart, clenching it into a fist. What had I done?
From the corner of my eyes, I saw Anthony hiding behind a marble statue. He had seen everything, and I felt ashamed of myself. This was not how the plan was supposed to carry out.
Lancelot gently pulled my head to his chest. His lips were right beside my ear, and I heard him whisper, "That was a huge rock."
"Yeah," I stammered.
"That friend of yours?" he asked. I couldn't take him for a fool. Lancelot knew what had happened, and perhaps, he was also aware that the person who came with me was a sorcerer. Even if people like us, who didn't posses the gift, could readily conclude that the rock was lifted from the ground using magic, and thrown as well.
And it was clearly not Wilson, which could have been my next option, lifting a huge rock and hurling it from a distance. Not with that kind of precision and lesser destructible aftermath. And if it were Wilson, he would have been here, right where we were standing, and would pull me away from Lancelot without even thinking twice.
"He's probably scolding me," I said in a whisper, pertaining to what had happened.
Lancelot asked after a moment, "Is he your lover?"
Inadvertently, I blushed. "No, he's not. He's more like an older brother to me, even if we hardly agreed on anything. The thing is, this is not what I'm supposed to do. He was only reminding me of it."
"Should I talk to him?"
Confused, I asked, "Why?"
Lancelot shrugged his shoulders. And underneath the moonlight, I saw that his cheeks were red. "I don't know. To explain? Have I gotten you in trouble?"
"I'm always the trouble maker for him. And he already left. There's no need for it," I said, dismissing his offer. For some inexplicable reason, I trusted Lancelot, but that didn't mean I expected Bryce and the others to feel the same. Lancelot would always be the enemy to them. He should also be to me, but I kept on sidetracking and altering sides. And I didn't like it. I didn't want to like it.
"Alright, if that's what you say." Lancelot took a seat on the fountain, motioning for me to do the same. "What is it like? Being raised up by the bandits?"
"A complete nightmare," I admitted, smiling faintly.
"But you seemed to be at ease with them," he said.
"Eventually, I got used to it. They took care of me after my parents' death. I was nothing but a stranger, and they offered a helping hand," I said, leaving a space between us when I sat down.
"Are you an orphan?"
I nodded.
He didn't answer for a while. I thought he would ask me more about it, but he let the topic drop. Instead, I heard him ask, "So why are you really here? Will you finally tell me about it? There's no need for you to dress up like that and fool me. In many ways, as you can see, I am already attracted to you."
I wasn't sure if I heard him right. But that would explain the kiss, even if it didn't make sense. I hardly recognized what I was feeling for him. How could he be this sure?
He smiled. "Maybe it's nice to know that I don't kiss every girl I met like that."
"Okay," I breathed. "But this is wrong. Honestly, we can't."
"You should have thought of that before coming here," Lancelot replied.
"Exactly." Why didn't we think of this situation? Or was I the only one who wasn't aware of this possibility? They should have at least told me what to do next.
"So you do admit that you did dress up and attend this ball because—"
I held up my hand, cutting him off. "Don't go back there. I do admit that it was a terrible idea. I clearly didn't think that asking you without so much as creating a drama would have had been better."
He wrinkled his nose, saying, "I strongly dislike it when people are fooling me."
"I'll take note of that." Proceeding with the plan, I told him, "So can you do me a favor?"
"You're finally going to tell me why you're here?"
"No more fooling around," I said. And with a hint of desperation in my voice, I added, "I wanted to find out something."
"What is it?"
"I was thinking if you could help me get inside King Henry's library?" I finally told him, holding my breath. Lancelot gave it a thought, without taking his eyes from mine. One could get easily lost in his eyes. They were glistening in the moonlight, glassy. Haunted. Beautiful.
"Why do you want to go there?" Lancelot asked, cautious with his own words.
"I'm looking for someone," I answered truthfully. I didn't think lying about the reason would get me anywhere, not when it involved Lancelot. Even if he did manage to get me inside that library, there was still a greater chance he would know what I was going to look for.
"And who is that someone?"
My mouth tightened. "The prince—the prince of the late kingdom. King Oliver Forthwind's son."
"Alec Forthwind?" Lancelot said soberly. I watched as his eyes flickered, as if hiding away his surprise. Remembering the banned books that he was keeping in his private island, it occurred to me that Lancelot might be familiar with Alec Forthwind.
"Yes, him," I answered. "Do you happen to know where he is?"
"Isn't he dead?"
"You do know that he isn't, am I right?"
"How could you be sure of that?" Lancelot looked at me, as if in a dare to make me say what I knew.
"I saw your books. You were right that day. I was looking through your things. By accident, I saw the books you were keeping inside the drawers of your bedside table." I shifted, so that I was facing him, holding on to the fountain edge. "They are records of the late kingdom. All of them."
"Those are one of my most kept secrets." His voice was guarded.
"I won't tell a soul. I won't even ask why you have them. I have secrets of my own, things I cannot talk about, even if it will cost me my life."
"How can I know that I can trust you?" Lancelot asked me.
"You're not supposed to trust me. I'm not supposed to trust you. But we do, don't we? We can't kill each other, and yet we don't want to be honest with each other. It's how this works for both of us," I went on. "So do you think you could help me? Can you tell me where I can find him?"
He slowly answered, "Okay. But in return, can you tell me why you wanted to find him?"
I shook my head. "I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."
"Is it because I'm my father's son?" Lancelot asked.
"No," I replied, looking at my left hand, where the ring was. "It's not for that reason. I just can't."
"I disliked him and his ways," Lancelot said.
For a moment, I wondered who he was talking about. "Him?"
With a wry smile, he continued, "My father. He is cruel and selfish. A despicable person, and far worse than that. I heard that all of the royalties from the late kingdom died the night before his reign. My father killed them himself."
"So is this why..."
"Why I was helping you when I shouldn't?" Lancelot finished for me.
"Is this the reason?" I dubiously asked.
"Who knows?" Lancelot said, blowing off steam. "It might as well be. Heaven knows it's not him who should be there, sitting on that throne. Incantasi had fallen the day he crowned himself as king."
After a while, I asked, "Do you resent him this much? Isn't he your father as well? Won't you inherit the throne after him?"
"I don't know if you know, Miles. He is an immortal. He can't die. There's no need for me to inherit the throne. And there had never been a day when I wished that he wasn't my father," Lancelot replied.
"I... I never thought of it that way," I said.
"Alec Forthwind's whereabouts is unknown. The only way to find it is by searching for the records in my father's library. There had been speculations that he hadn't been killed. Instead, he was banished. The exact place is what we have to find."
"Can you help me get inside the king's library, then?"
"A bandit who wanted to find the lost prince, claiming that he was still alive. This is interesting," Lancelot replied, standing up on his feet. "Come on. We need to have some excuse, so the guards won't be suspicious of us."
I stood up. "You won't press me to tell you why I wanted to find him?"
"I won't. For now, maybe it's better if we just tell each other things we are comfortable talking about. Then we'll see how far this takes us, alright?"
"Good idea," I agreed.
He stepped closer to me, saying, "Excuse me for a while, okay?"
I nodded, but unsure what he was about to do. Then Lancelot suddenly picked me up in his arms. And before I could protest, he slowly put me down inside the fountain, completely soaking me.
When I got my head out of the water, I demanded, "What are you doing?"
Lancelot offered me a hand. "Here."
I pushed it away, stepping out of the fountain, annoyed. "Why the hell would you do that?"
"I told you we need a credible reason," Lancelot replied, laughing about it. Looking at my soaked clothes and hair, he added, "Now we have some good excuse."
"A what?"
"I don't know if I we can actually enter my father's library," Lancelot admitted, grabbing my wrist and leading me to the other side of the garden. "But we now have a good excuse to enter my mother's room. It has a hidden passage to the library."
"It does? Where are we heading?" That was brilliant, actually. It was truly better to have him take me, instead of finding my own way there. Without getting killed. And coming back to the hideout in one piece.
"The other door. Lesser guards," Lancelot replied vaguely. He checked the place, before we entered the door and passed the hallways without making a noise.
Some of the guards had seen us. Lancelot didn't let go of my wrist, ignoring them. I left a fair trail of droplets of water behind our path. As we were getting deeper inside the castle, the number of guards had increased. From what I could recall in the map, this place was similar to the layout of the rooms near the king's abode.
I swallowed my nervousness, willing my feet to move along and forget about the heavy stares that the guards were throwing us. Lancelot opted out any explanation. He went along as if it was nobody's business.
When we reached a massive room with double doors and Lancelot was about to reach for the doorknob, one of the guards, who was guarding the room outside, asked, "Your Highness, what are you doing out here?"
"I'm just going to get her some new clothes from my mother's wardrobe. She accidentally fell into the fountain. I don't want her to catch a cold," Lancelot replied.
There was a hint of confusion on the guard's face. He looked at the other guard to my right, before he slightly nodded and the two of them moved away from the door, letting us in. Lancelot proceeded inside the room and locked the door.
The room was dimly lit. Even if all the furniture were neatly arranged, you could see that the room was hardly used. As I was about to ask him about his mother, Lancelot pulled out a light blue dress from the closet and said, "Here, put this on."
Taking the dress from him, he turned around and went to the other side of the closet door. He left it open so that I could have some privacy. Still, I felt nervous and self-conscious as I took off the burgundy dress that I was wearing and slipped inside his mother's clothes.
Realizing that it was also a lace up dress, I cursed in my thoughts. I wiped my brow as a droplet of sweat found its way down my eyebrow. I found it hard to grab the ribbons in the back. My arms were not that long enough for me to reach through everything. Where was Wilson when you badly needed him?
"Everything alright?" Lancelot asked.
I sighed. "Give me a moment."
It was no use, but I did my best to tie together all the laces. I wasn't sure how they looked, but my back wasn't feeling cold anymore. The essence of putting on clothes was to cover up yourself, so it was fine. It didn't matter if I had the untidiest dress in the entire castle.
"Um, Miles, I hate to say this, but we have to get moving," said Lancelot.
"All done, let's go," I replied.
Lancelot was about to lead the way when he noticed what I'd done to his mother's dress. "Are you okay? Can you walk just fine while your dress is tied up like that?"
It was true, though. When I tried moving, I felt suffocated. I'd rip the clothes in this manner. "It was actually hard tying it all up by myself."
"My mother had servants when she was still alive. They did it for her," Lancelot thoughtfully replied. "Do you want me to call them?"
"No, please. We don't have much time. And I can't let them see me, either way," I replied, finding it harder to breathe.
"You sure you're alright?"
With a deep breath, I finally said, "Okay, since I don't want to ruin the dress, even if this is shameful to ask, but can you do me a favor?"
"Another favor?" Lancelot repeated.
"Can you do the laces again?" I asked, trying to even my voice. "I think this was why I got used to the clothes you boys wear. They're not as complicated."
"I'm not sure I know how," Lancelot said, clearing his throat.
"It's more like tying your shoes," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. This was embarrassing. But we had to move quickly, and this dress had already taken a long time to be worn properly.
"Alright," he replied uncomfortably. "So should I..."
Taking a breath, I slowly turned around so that my back was facing him. He saw the mess it was. And shortly after, I felt his hands redoing the laces. I was able to breathe without difficulty when the laces came loose, but that didn't last long. The intimacy of the moment was remarkably blatant. It didn't help that there was a time or two when his hands had lightly brushed against my bare back. My cheeks were warm, and my heart wasn't near calming down.
"I'm not sure, but I think it looks something like this," Lancelot said after a while.
"Okay, thanks. Where's that passage?" I asked, scanning the room and thinking maybe it would be courteous to ask him about his mother. With a quiet voice, I added, "She died four years ago, right? Your mother, I mean."
Lancelot nodded. "Poisoned."
I threw him a thoughtful glance. "By any chance..."
"I'm also thinking that," Lancelot answered my thoughts.
"I'm sorry," I said, clenching my hands into a fist. "It must have been hard for you."
"Aren't we all going through the same thing?" Lancelot said, pushing the bed near the window to create a room. His words lingered in my head, and I felt a familiar pain in my chest.
We were.
I followed his figure as he went to the far side of the room. After a while, he started to push a bookcase, until a small door became visible. He opened the door, and then looked at me. "Here we go."
"You were not kidding. There is really a door," I said, hurrying to his side. The passage was dusty, and I ended up sneezing.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I said, wiping my nose. "Sorry."
"I discovered this by accident," Lancelot told me, going inside the small tunnel. He pushed some books out of the way, and I saw him get up on the other side. The king's library was well-lighted with candles, and I could see his figure clearly from there. "It's safe. There's no one here."
Holding my breath, I crawled inside the tunnel. I stumbled to my feet when I got up, taken back by the immense number of books present in the room. There was a spiral staircase near the main door, and it led to another floor of countless books.
"It's something, isn't it?" Lancelot asked.
"Have you been here before?" I walked around, trailing my fingers on the books. The books were tightly stacked, and it was the first time in a while that I'd seen such a vast collection. The town libraries were close in comparison. But in there, the books were neatly stacked and arranged accordingly. Here, it was dark and I felt suffocated.
"A few times, when he called me here." Lancelot was watching me.
"So where do you think he keeps those records," I asked him, pausing for a while and glancing back to where he was standing. "Where do you think he hides the record of Alec Forthwind's location?"
"I once tried to find it, but I didn't have much time. Let's go upstairs. And we have to be quick, Miles. I'm certain my father will be here soon," Lancelot told me, dragging me up the stairs.
I swallowed.
Lancelot led me to the end of the left wing. He took a candle with us, and he didn't lose his focus as he was scanning the books. He examined the titles carefully. "I have gone through almost everything here before..."
"Truth, you haven't been here just once or twice, am I right?"
"Guilty," he answered, but he didn't look up. "I've been using that passageway for years, and I can't risk getting found out."
"Thanks. For doing this," I said in a sincere voice.
"Found it!" Lancelot said in triumph, pulling out a book of records. The pages were yellow and it looked worn-out. "I was reading this when I almost got caught the last time. I'm sure at the end of the book... Alec Forthwind's location..."
"Where is he?" I asked, moving closer to him.
"Wedgemore," Lancelot replied, lifting his head to face me. Unknowingly, our distance was close, once more. As if I was a moth attracted to a very dangerous flame.
I moved back a little. "The village past the Northern Marsh?"
"Yes." He drew me closer to the book, pulling me by the arm. "Take a look."
The upper portion of the page was blotched out with black ink, as if it had spilled on the page, saving the very last part. I read the passage, "And hereby this day, Alec Forthwind is sent to be exiled to do manual labor in Wedgemore, after finding grace from His Majesty and being granted the opportunity to live. Signed this day of—"
Lancelot placed a hand over my mouth. "Shh..."
As if by instinct, I felt my heart racing. What was going on?
"Listen," Lancelot said in a low voice. "I think they're here. They're coming."
Without another word, I placed back the record book in the bookshelf and Lancelot took care of the lantern and placed it back where he had gotten it. We hurriedly went down the spiral staircase, silencing our footsteps. We couldn't risk getting caught here.
I was the first one to go into the passageway. Lancelot gathered the scattered books on the floor and took it with him, knowledgeably placing them back on the bookshelf to hide the entrance. I was nervous for him, for I also heard the footfalls that were approaching our direction. They were getting closer, and the stillness of the night indicated such.
I was holding my breath for him, as he skillfully managed to get back to his mother's room and pushed back the bookcase that was used to cover the passageway. I helped him with the bed, tidying it and careful not to leave any indication that we had discovered another way to the king's library. Dusting my clothes, I was startled when Lancelot took my hand and led me away from the bookcase. He pushed us into the other side of the room, concealed by the darkness where the light didn't end.
Soon enough, there were chattering right outside the door. A key was inserted into the eyehole and the door was unlocked. One. If I remembered it correctly, Lancelot locked the door two times.
I looked at him nervously. "What do we do now?"
Lancelot's hands turned cold, and he was shaking. "He really came."
Two.
"I'm sorry," said Lancelot. His face was stern and he closed his eyes, as if he was thinking. And then he pulled me into his arms. His lips were locked on mine, quivering and unsteady. He was kissing me again, or he was trying to. Lancelot was greatly distracted and this was the last resort he had for us. When he realized that I was unresponsive and stunned, he drew his face away from mine, saying, "Please help me out, or we'll be in trouble."
"Right," I managed to say, incoherent with what was going on.
"I promise, I'll get us out of here. Just close your eyes; they're coming," Lancelot said.
"I really don't know what this is," I mumbled under my breath. With quivering hands, I pulled his face nearer, closing our lips tight. We should do this right. If we did, I knew for myself that at least I could forget about where we'd been and what we'd found out, long enough to efficiently conceal them from the enemy.
The door swung open, and we pretended to be startled, taken away from the moment. I was undoubtedly nervous, and I didn't know if it was fear or anger that had taken over my entire being. From behind Lancelot, who turned around to face our guests, I could see Henry. It was really him. He had a sword in hand, and his stern eyes were on us.
"Lovebirds," someone said from the group standing at the other side of the room. He was wearing an elegant white cloak, and his long hair was of the same color, if not lighter. It was hard to tell in this room. But I'd noticed his eyes, even from a distance. The hue was the same as Henry's, as if he was devoid of a soul, too. Or maybe he was. The patterns on his cloak became evident when he stepped into the light and out of Henry's shadow. He was the Head Sorcerer in service of King Henry.
I nearly gasped.
Regaining back his voice, Lancelot said, "Your Highness... I... we didn't know you'd be coming here."
I went numb, and my grip tightened on the back of his shirt. Henry was here, together with his Head Sorcerer. The Head Sorcerer wasn't even present in the ball, but Henry dragged him here to check on us.
This could definitely turn out for the worst. I had to calm down. We had a plan and we had to make it work if we wanted to get out of here alive.
Gripping his blade, Henry asked, "What are you two doing here?"
"We were just..." Lancelot said, but his words got pushed back.
Henry stepped forward, dragging the sheath of his sword across the books that were placed on the bookshelf beside the one near the bed, where the passageway was located. The books went crashing down to the floor, and the deafening noise echoed in the room. "Who gave you permission to kiss in your mother's room?"
Panic was taking over, and I started trembling. Lancelot placed his hand over mine and caressed it, reassuring me. He apologized on my behalf, "I'm sorry, Your Highness. It won't happen again."
"Foolish boy!" Henry took out his sword from its sheath and stabbed the carpeted floor.
I held back the scream that wanted to come out of my mouth. Don't come close. Don't step any closer.
"And who is this young lady?" Henry asked Lancelot, scorn resounding in his tattered voice.
"This is..." Lancelot paused, perhaps wondering what name I'd used to enter the palace.
There was no choice. I had to come out and show myself. Even if fear was taking over, I hushed it down. Now was not the time to be intimidated by Henry. He was asking me a question, and it was rightful to give him an answer.
I walked out of Lancelot's shadow, revealing myself to the same person who was seeking my life. I was careful not to meet his eyes, but I slightly lifted my head to get a look of him. Henry's grip on his sword loosened, and on his face was an astoundingly pleasant stare.
For a moment, I feared that he had recognized me. But I told myself not to be foolish. He couldn't have, even when his Head Sorcerer was present in the same room as us.
"She's a fair maiden, but still foolish to be playing with my son, who should have known better. What is your name, child?" Henry asked me.
He was hideous and ignited fear within me. But out in the open and upon a fair ground, I had come to terms with the fact that a legendary sorcerer once risked her life for the kingdom, granting me her final spell. It wasn't my battle alone. Not anymore. I had to find a way to gain enough courage.
I slightly placed my right foot behind the other, bending my knees. "Pardon our careless behavior. We ask for your utmost forgiveness, Your Highness. I'm Lady Millicent, daughter of the Duke of Merillain."
Past my fears, a form of hope beaconed.
To him, I would just be another girl who was playing around with the prince late at night. But what he didn't know was that I was something more. I was the damsel whom he badly wanted to be dead, because I held the key to obtaining the sword that could put an end to his life. Beneath my pretense bowing, Henry hadn't seen the smirk I had on my face as I continuously mocked him in my head.
I'll kill you. I swear, I will.