//the revival and the burial//
The world went black for a long, painful second. The numbness vanished, and a swarm of wasps attacked my honeycomb heart. The emotions I'd been avoiding trampled in like a flood. An earthquake set free my caged thoughts, weakening my knees. And I was swept into the tsunami.
Rune's magic had driven his mother to insanity. And that same magic was now driving him to the same extremes. I'm sorry I ever let you love me . . . He knew the destruction of his homeland and the imprisonment of his mother had been the fault of his magic. He probably lived in guilt and self-hatred his whole life. And now he had been doomed to the insanity of his magic.
And it was all my fault. I had effectively ruined his life. Because of what I wanted.
He didn't need to apologize for letting me love him. I needed to apologize for letting him love me.
"Belline?" A voice made it through the blackness. It launched me back into vision, in the King's study. King Hadeth squatted before me, touching my arm. His eyebrows were furrowed, worry swimming in his golden eyes. "Are you alright?"
The flood leaked out of my eyes. To the King, I sobbed, "It's my fault. I did this to him. I – I made him mad."
"Oh, sweet Belline." King Hadeth embraced me, cradling my head to his chest. It reminded me of my own dad. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to cry in my father's arms and let him lie to me that it'll be okay, that life has a way of working itself out. I wanted to go home.
"No one blames you for this. If anything, it was an oversight on our part. We did not think this would happen, and why worry you needlessly? I still love you, and I know my son does, too. The person my son blames and hates the most is himself." King Hadeth pushed my hair from my face and gave me a gentle smile. "We mean it when we say you are the greatest gift we've ever received."
But his words meant nothing. Not when Rune was descending into madness at the behest of an onslaught of uncontrollable magic. Not when it was truly my fault, no matter what anyone said.
"I wish I had never come back here," I confessed, too hurt to hold the words at bay.
Any bright emotion on the King's face fell. His shining eyes dulled. He frowned. He squeezed my hand before he rose to his feet again. "Belline," he said, quiet and careful and unwavering. "My son's magic is his responsibility. Its effects are my responsibility. Please, make sure to take care of yourself above all else."
Aware our meeting had adjourned, I stood on shaky legs. Nausea tickled the back of my throat. Tears stung my eyes. And my heart lay in ruin at my feet.
At the door, a single thought took hold. I turned back and asked, "King Hadeth, what is Rune's magic?"
The King mustered a smile that was sad and broken and diplomatic. "Poison. My son can produce poison."
With that, I shut the door behind me and stared out into the hallway. Everything King Hadeth had shared swirled around my mind. It tangled into an incomprehensible mess, sounding like TV static. To the sound of TV snow, I wandered back to my room, locking myself inside.
On my bed, I tried to comb through the disasters in my mind. But the only thing I felt was destruction. My mind, my emotions, had crumbled into ruin. And it ate at every organ, until I was a pile of rubble.
I never should have come back to Eternity.
My stomach had stopped growling hours ago. It accepted that it wasn't going to get food. It couldn't, not when my limbs no longer worked. I laid on my bed, immobile, eyes puffy and sore. My eyelids had dry, irritated skin now from rubbing them so much. And despite my stomach's protests, I had no appetite. At least, I had no motivation to have an appetite.
Beyond the window, the hope that had captured and brightened Eternity faded. The song and celebration had become distant, almost whispers now. It was as if the earth itself knew something was horribly, horribly wrong. As if it knew hope had died with the return of Rune's magic. As if it knew its future ruler had caused it all: the revival, and the burial.
I wasn't sure how many days had passed. I wasted time switching between sleep, a tsunami of thoughts and feelings, and absolute paralysis. I was all-too-aware that I was withering away, and even more aware that I didn't care.
Sometimes, pesky optimism found me. Maybe—a remote maybe—insanity wouldn't consume Rune. Maybe I could talk to him, bring him off the edge. Maybe the power of love was enough.
But reality set it, and I knew that love wasn't enough. That's what killed me. Not just that I was the enemy of this affair, but that I couldn't fix it with love.
I constantly contemplated how to fix this. Could it even be fixed in the first place? And if it could be, what could I do? I'd tried to get through to Prince Rune, tried to pierce his fear with love and understanding. But it didn't work. Rune had to choose this for himself. But was he capable of choice, going mad as he was?
God, it was my fault. My body curled into a tense ball, the only exertion my muscles got these days. I clenched everything as hard as I could, shaking with the effort. I couldn't tell if I was trying to expel the self-hatred from my body, or tattoo it to my skin.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Like usual, I didn't respond. But the door opened anyway.
At first, they merely went about their business: dusting, putting clothes away, cleaning the bathroom. But when they finished their chores, the edge of the bed sunk with their weight. Wordlessly, they placed a hand on my side. And a few tears slipped from my eyes.
At last, they spoke. It was tender, like speaking to a vase about to shatter. "You look unwell. You should eat something. Get some movement. A bath might help, too."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. My tongue no longer worked. It had been buried beneath the destruction.
But Eika didn't move. Rather, she caressed my arm.
A long sigh cleared some of the rubble from my mouth and brain. My voice cracked from unuse. "I'm an empty shell now, Eika."
"Food could fill the emptiness."
The foreign urge to chuckle swept away some of the cobwebs. A hint of energy trickled along my skin.
"It's all my fault."
She adjusted, scooting farther onto the bed. She sighed. "Blame is such a tricky thing. For some, it's easier to place it squarely on one's own shoulders. For others, it's far easier to shove it onto anyone else. But in a complicated situation such as this, perhaps we must blame everyone."
For the first time, someone didn't bother to argue with me. She didn't immediately reassure me that it wasn't my fault. That I wasn't to blame. Sure, she didn't outright agree with me either. But there was something fascinating about her words, fascinating enough that I rolled over to look directly at her.
The chameleon-noid cast a smile at me, both eyes trained on mine. "We must blame you, of course, as you were the one to lift the curse, no matter what anyone said. But we must also blame the King and the Prince. Perhaps the Prince most of all. He knew the nature of the possible course, yet remained silent. He let you speak to Fate, despite knowing the outcome. He's paying the price of his silence, and you're paying the price of your deafness. Everyone is at fault here."
Her words cut to the core. As much as I tried to keep the blame solely mine, she was right: Prince Rune never said anything. He didn't tell me about his magic or its effects or his condition or the risks of breaking the curse. I hated that I hated him for that. I didn't want to be angry with him, while also being the one to put him in this place. It didn't seem fair. But I was angry. Deep down, I blamed him, too.
"Why didn't he tell me, Eika?"
"I can only speculate. My guess is shame." She brushed a few strands of hair from my face. "I know my advice is unwanted, but I'm sharing it anyway. If everyone is to blame, then no one is. We can either settle into a game of blame, rendering ourselves ultimately motionless. Or we can choose to work toward forgiveness and move somehow."
My eyes misted. "I don't deserve forgiveness."
"Does Prince Rune?"
Yes, my heart answered immediately. Yes, I was upset that he hadn't talked to me before it came to this. But as I wallowed in my own version of shame, I understood to a degree. No one wanted to admit to their own ugliness. And his magic was not his fault. It wasn't his fault he was born with a rare condition. It wasn't his fault his magic drove his mother mad. He hadn't chosen his poisonous abilities.
An image of his destroyed room flashed in my mind. The poison had eaten everything in that room, against his wishes. He had tried to control it. But it proved too great to him, due to a condition he didn't choose. It wasn't his fault.
"Yes," I said.
"Start there," said Eika. "You can work on forgiving yourself later. Now, are you willing to get some food in you?"
My mouth pressed into a pout.
The hardest days were the days I felt okay. I shouldn't have been allowed to feel okay, not with everything that was happening. But today was an okay day.
So I resigned. "I guess."
Eika helped me to my feet. The room swayed. My lack of food had made me lightheaded. She tucked my arm through hers and guided me from my room to the dining hall, for the first time in days.
Despite the grand spread in front of me, I couldn't eat much. Eika reminded me to eat slowly, so I didn't upset my empty stomach. But because of that, I grew full quickly. I managed a single plate of leaves that ranged from fruity to salty. As much as I wanted the cinnamon-flavored twigs, my body couldn't handle any more. I sipped an electric drink that cured my dizziness.
"How is he?" I asked, after eating all I could.
"From what I've heard, he's sequestered himself to a cave where he rarely moves," answered Eika matter-of-factly.
"He's still trying to protect everyone." My throat constricted. Even now, as he battled insanity and his overwhelming magic, he thought of others before himself. He was still good. He was still the person I had fallen in love with.
"Has anyone tried to approach him?"
Eika shook her head. "He runs whenever someone tries. I heard the King give the order to leave Prince Rune alone, especially now that he's cornered himself in a cave."
My brows furrowed. "Shouldn't that be the best time to approach him?"
A soft smile graced her lips. "Scared, possibly insane, backed into a corner – that's the most likely time a lot of people could get hurt, including His Highness."
I had to look away. The sobs I'd come to know intimately gathered in my chest, and I tried to swallow them down.
What I hated most of all, was not that I had caused all of this, but that I had caused Rune so much fear and left him to deal with it on his own. I hated that I had given into my despair so thoroughly that it felt like I had given up on him. I hated that I hated myself so much that I wasn't out there with him, offering my hand no matter his protests. I hated that I had locked myself up in his home, while he cowered in a cave.
"I know—" My voice warbled, so I cleared my throat. "I know there's probably nothing I can do. But, do you think there is something I can do? Anything?"
"My answer isn't what you're looking for," said Eika as she stood up. "I believe the best thing you can do right now is take care of yourself."
As we exited the dining room, I said, "You're right: I don't like that answer. But you're right, too. I need to start taking care of myself again. Start there, right?"
"Right." She left with a hug, and I headed to my room to bathe, change my clothes, and take care of myself.
I took to venturing outside my room multiple times a day. The movement felt nice, and I found myself cycling through ballet positions. I stretched throughout the day. Sometimes, I ran down the hallway, jumping into a split in the air at the end. I made sure to eat, drink, and bathe. To return to some semblance of normalcy helped my mood.
My thoughts constantly warred over what to do. Did I seek Rune out in the cave, try again and again to reach him? Did I attempt to persuade him back to the castle for professional help? Or did I stay away, at least for now, while he tucked himself away?
The ruins of my mind began to slowly rebuild. It felt like that, anyway. The despair and self-hatred that had rendered me motionless faded into whispers. No longer did it wreak havoc. It allowed me to stretch and jump and dance. And think about Rune.
This was, in large part, my fault. Which meant coming up with the solution needed to be, in large part, my responsibility.
As I meandered the halls, contemplating things I could do for Prince Rune, his father rushed through the corridor. He was donning a white jacket as he said to one of his guards, "The tsulin are prepared? Good. We mustn't keep the Sprites waiting. Borak sounded . . . impatient."
My heart seized. The Sprites. So much had happened that I had completely forgotten about them—and my commitment to be a liaison of sorts. Sure, I had wondered in idle passing what Rune's predicament meant for Sprite-royal relations. But I hadn't taken the time to actually consider the possibilities.
It seemed like millennia ago when I'd visited the Sprite Council. Memories cascaded around me, and I swallowed compulsively. They had begrudgingly granted me time, making it obvious that they did not trust me. They didn't trust the monarchy. In fact, they had threatened us.
They, too, had been affected by the Queen's actions. Her insanity threatened their home, too. With Rune descending into the same madness, how would they react? It wouldn't build trust, that was for sure. And maybe, their threats would prove the opposite of empty.
It didn't take long to learn what this meant for the Sprites and the monarchy. It came a few days later in the form of Nissa astride Gaia, Nissa's hair windblown and Gaia's chest rising and falling with effort—for the first time since I'd known her.
"Nissa!" I exclaimed as she crawled through a window into the castle. Gaia lowered to the ground outside. "What're you doing here?"
Nissa gripped my hands, her eyes wide. She was almost a stranger without her thousand-watt smile. "Belline, I dunno anythin'. But somethin's wrong. Guarans are movin'!"
She said it like I knew what that meant. Eyebrows knitted, I shook my head.
It prompted her to continue, "They never do that. The only reason I can think why they'd leave is if the Queen broke out."
Now my eyes broadened. I didn't like where she was headed. "Nissa, tell me straight-up: who are Guarans?"
A sadness painted itself over her features. "The militia."
I nearly fell over. I breathed, "Prince Rune."
If the Sprite militia only initiated when they suspected a threat—such as the Queen's escape—then they must have considered Rune a threat. With Rune's magic manifesting, in their eyes, their mistrust was justified. If the Sprite military was moving, that meant they were headed for Rune.
To protect their home, they were going to kill him.