At midnight, Callidus guided Cressida down the dark stairwell of Windridge. Despite his exhaustion, a vibrating, energetic anxiety surged through his tired limbs, propelling him forward as he half-carried her, half-leaned on her.
Cressida remained silent, likely still processing the sight of the empty sitting room and the destruction he had wrought in a fit of anger.
"...and so," Callidus concluded. "I tore open his throat to create the illusion of an animal attack."
"Quail told me animals don't enter Windridge," Cressida uttered faintly, her face drained of color.
"They do, but I squish them," he replied as they reached the final landing.
As Callidus led Cressida out of Windridge tower, his mind buzzed with the weight of impending revelations. The truth, once locked away in the recesses of his being, now demanded release.
"Where shall we go, my love?" he asked, his tone filled with a giddy nervousness. "The Guest wing, my study, or the royal tombs?"
Cressida's eyes widened, flickering between the options. Callidus observed the interplay of emotions on her face - wariness, curiosity, and lingering suspicion. In the corridor, torchlight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the air between them crackled with a tentative truce.
"I thought you were going to reveal everything, Callidus," she said quietly. "Are you saying I can only pick one?"
"No, love," he assured with a tight smile. "Simply where we start."
Cressida was silent for a moment, before she murmured, "...can we visit my people, Callidus?"
Callidus blinked, taken aback by her request. "It is late, Cressida. They are likely asleep."
"I want to see them, Callidus. After all this time, I want to know they're alright."
"I've told you that they have been treated well," he replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.
"They're imprisoned, Callidus."
"They've been imprisoned for less time than you have."
"Oh, so I'm back to being your prisoner?"
Callidus frowned, a trace of annoyance crossing his face. "You're not my prisoner, Cressida," he sighed, weary of their old argument. "...though you have been imprisoned."
"Remind me who imprisoned me?"
"My love, I may have imprisoned you, but you held me captive first," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"I need to see them, Callidus," she said, pulling her hand away, though a faint blush lingered on her cheeks. "If you're truly willing to reveal everything, then take me to them. Now."
"Very well, dear," he conceded, uncertainly resigning himself to a path he hadn't anticipated.
With a trembling hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the corridors. The weight of secrecy and the burden of his lies pressed heavily upon him, but he steeled himself for what lay ahead.
Guards passed by in disciplined cadence, their armored footsteps reverberating through the narrow passage. With each passing figure, Cressida flinched, prompting Callidus to tighten his grip on her.
"Why so jumpy, love?" Callidus whispered into her ear. Cressida tensed against him, before shaking her head, choosing not to answer. "Cressida," he murmured. "I've simply increased the patrols to search for your companions. But you have nothing to fear when you're with me."
"Why do you have to search for them? Why can't you just let them go?"
"Cressida, we discussed this."
"I don't agree with your reasons."
"I am aware. And that is why my orders are to capture them alive and unharmed."
She shot him a sidelong glance. "So instead of the guards, you'll be the one breaking their legs?"
His jaw tensed, but he opted not to engage in further verbal sparring.
The brightly lit corridor led them to the entrance of the prison, where four guards stood against the stone walls, their eyes glazed with boredom. As their future king approached, the guards straightened up with a jolt, their expressions quickly shifting from lethargy to alertness as they saluted.
"Open the doors."
Swiftly complying, the guards unlocked the heavy doors leading to the prison cells.
Cressida's grip on Callidus's arm tightened, her tension tangible. Callidus softened his gaze, concern replacing his earlier frustration. "Cressida, I assure you; your people are being treated with respect."
She shot him a quick, distrustful glance. "...this prison doesn't exactly hold good memories for me, Callidus."
Callidus's features softened even more. "I know. I apologize, my love. I ensured your time in this place was as brief as possible. I didn't enjoy witnessing you on the floor." A wistful sigh escaped him. "Though I confess, when I saw you sitting on the prison floor in the moonlight, you resembled an orchid in the dark. That image has lingered with me. How enchanting you were."
A flicker of disturbance crossed Cressida's face. "Callidus, you ordered my imprisonment. How can you romanticize that?"
"Effortlessly, love," he murmured, drawing her close for a gentle kiss on the cheek, regardless of the guards watching. His lips lingered for a moment, blurring the lines between reassurance and possessiveness.
Cressida, however, wrinkled her nose at the gesture, pushing against Callidus's chest and pulling away from his arms. He watched as she briskly walked past him, entering the prison, with the guards pointedly averting their gazes.
The large room was divided into smaller cells by a complex lattice of vertical and horizontal bars. Walls of seamless granite enclosed the space, creating an oppressive atmosphere. Thin rectangular windows at the top of each cell allowed minimal light to filter through, casting a subdued glow on the grey brick floor divided by rough black mortar.
The midnight darkness, accentuated by distant rumbles of thunder, lent an eerie quality to the prison that contrasted starkly with Callidus's earlier visit during the day, when he was searching for Foster and Quail.
As Callidus trailed closely behind Cressida, soft snores and the creak of cots filled the air. Lanterns hung at intervals along the walls, providing just enough illumination to navigate the maze of cells without disturbing the occupants' sleep. Despite being well-equipped with cots, tables, chairs, and other comforts, the prison still exuded an unmistakable atmosphere of captivity.
Each time Cressida had begged to see her people, Callidus brought offerings to them, attempting to assuage his own guilt for denying her appeals. Over time, the prison's atmosphere had evolved, shaped by Callidus's attempts at appeasement. However, it had been a while since Cressida last made such a request, and a haunting look of guilt crossed her face as she gazed at the sleeping occupants of each cell.
Approaching the central area of the prison, they encountered a group quietly engaged in a card game. Two guards played through the cracks of the bars with two prisoners, and the flickering light from a nearby lantern inadvertently created a semblance of normalcy in the otherwise oppressive environment. One of the guards noticed Callidus's approach and hastily stood up from his makeshift seat, sharply jabbing his fellow guard as he did so.
"Your Majesty," the other guard stuttered, a sharp look of fear crossing her face. Callidus, though annoyed at the guards for their lapse in attention, focused on Cressida, who stood with tear-filled eyes, gazing at the two awake prisoners.
One of them, a pleasantly plump woman, gasped and dropped her cards at the sight of Cressida. The man beside her followed suit, his eyes widening. There was a heartbeat of silence and then the woman let out a joyous cry, leaping from the table and throwing herself at the bars.
"Your Highness, is it really you?" the woman exclaimed, tears streaming down her face.
Cressida, overcome with emotion, reached out to touch her hands through the bars. "Ostara, Eamon," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I should have come sooner. How have you been?"
The man beside Ostara managed a shaky smile. "We're fine. In fact, I was about to win an extra loaf of soft bread." "We've been well," Ostara quickly confirmed. "I miss the sun, and I've been so bored that I've begged for dishes to scrub, but we're fine."
As the heartfelt reunion unfolded between Cressida, Ostara, and Eamon, the noise from their conversation began to rouse the other prisoners.
A burly man in a neighboring cell squinted through the bars, his rough voice breaking the silence. "Your Highness? Is it really you?" he called out.
"Yes, it's me," Cressida replied, her voice choked.
The man's face lit up with a wide grin, and he banged on the bars of his cell with excitement. "Our princess has returned!"
The commotion stirred the rest of the prisoners, who began to realize the significance of the moment. Voices echoed through the prison, each calling out Cressida's name with growing excitement and disbelief.
"Princess Cressida?!"
"What time is it?"
"She escaped! Are we free now?"
The noise level rose, and the guards, previously engaged in their card game, exchanged nervous glances.
The excitement rippled through the prison as more prisoners recognized Cressida. Faces emerged from the shadows, some familiar from Callidus's prior visits. Some were sitting up in their cots, others standing at the bars, all eager to catch a glimpse of their princess.
From a nearby cell, a young man with messy red hair and eager eyes called out, "Princess! Is it really you?"
Cressida turned towards the voice. "Wori!" she exclaimed, rushing towards his cell. Wori pressed his hands against the bars, a radiant smile illuminating his face. She let out a choked laugh when she saw him, "Wori, you've grown a beard!"
Wori blushed, fingers nervously scratching at a sparse attempt at facial hair. "Well, I am a man now. I turned sixteen a week ago."
Cressida's smile faltered, realization crossing her features.
Wori offered a small grin. "I've had worse natal days, Your Highness."
Voices continued to call out her name, and Cressida moved from cell to cell, embracing the familiar faces that had journeyed with her from Eflia to Ashlar.
Positioned at a distance, Callidus observed the interactions with keen interest. While always aware of Cressida's care for her people, witnessing it firsthand brought a unique perspective. He had expected to feel jealous, but instead he felt as if he were watching Cressida play with Varyan.
A sense of yearning-tinged detachment.
Only one man seemed to direct his full attention to Callidus - a middle-aged figure on a nearby cot, glaring at him with wariness and resentment. As Cressida reached his cell, his expression softened, and he rose, offering a salute. "Your Highness," he greeted. "It warms my heart to see you well. We all feared the worst when we heard of your arrest."
Cressida stepped closer, extending her hand through the bars. "Commander Elio."
"Your presence here accompanied by his Majesty...Is it too much to hope that this means you've been exonerated?"
Cressida's gaze shifted to Callidus, uncertainty clouding her features. The unresolved matters hung in the air, a silent plea for answers. Breaking the tense silence, Callidus confirmed, "Yes, Princess Cressida has been exonerated."
The news resonated through the prison, igniting exclamations, applause, and rattling of bars. The guards, unsure of how to react, looked to Callidus for guidance. Even Cressida was startled by the emotional eruption, suppressing a flinch at the resounding noise bouncing off the prison walls.
As the commotion settled, Commander Elio addressed Callidus with respect yet caution. "Your Majesty, I appreciate the news, but my loyalty lies with Her Highness. I trust she will verify this herself."
Callidus, raising an eyebrow, gestured toward Cressida. Their eyes met, and she squared her shoulders. "I have been exonerated," she declared maintaining eye contact with Callidus even as she addressed her people. "And, as I suspect you haven't been informed, you are all to be released after His Highness's coronation."
Another roar of joy erupted among the prisoners, filling the air with cheers, tears, and expressions of gratitude, spreading like wildfire as each person passed the news to those in the farthest cells.
Despite the celebratory atmosphere, a trace of irritation flickered across Callidus's face. He had delayed informing the prisoners, wary of potential changes to the plans, but Cressida stood her ground, daring him to contradict her in front of her people.
Soon all eyes turned to Callidus, the prison falling into hushed silence, awaiting his confirmation. Stiff and composed, Callidus nodded. "It is true. You will be released after my coronation," he affirmed, his eyes locked onto Cressida. Then, impulsively, he added, "Moreover, you are all welcome to stay and celebrate your princess's engagement."
A stunned, awkward silence engulfed the prison. The cheers and expressions of gratitude were replaced by uncertain murmurs and exchanged glances among the prisoners. Cressida narrowed her eyes, clearly as displeased at his impromptu announcement as he had been with hers.
Wori, unable to contain his surprise, blurted out, "But Crown Prince Ferox is dead." The man sharing Wori's cell audibly smacked him with a stern look, urging him to silence.
Callidus's expression tightened. "It is true that Princess Cressida was at one time engaged to my brother, but life moves on. And Princess Cressida and I now share a deep love between us."
Cressida's mouth popped open.
The prison broke out into conversation, speculation and confusion filling the air. Cressida took a step closer, her voice lowered to an angry whisper. "Callidus, you promised honesty."
"I am being honest."
"You just said I loved you."
Callidus leaned in, his voice just as low. "I said we share a love. And we do. Mine."
Cressida shot him a withering look before turning her attention back to her people. "Everyone," she declared amidst the conversations, "I promise you will be released after the coronation and will be returned safely to Eflia. As for my engagement, it is a personal matter between His Future Majesty and me. Your focus should be on your freedom."
Wori suddenly spoke up, "Your Highness, does this mean you're not coming back to Eflia with us?"
Cressida's expression softened, and she offered him a tight smile. "Wori, I was never meant to come back to Eflia in the first place."
"But a new engagement? Does Her and His Majesty know?"
"No, I haven't had the opportunity to tell them yet."
Wori's concern deepened. "If your parents haven't approved, then that means this isn't a real engagement."
"Wori!" The man in Wori's cell exclaimed, smacking him once again, before stepping forward to address Callidus. "Your Majesty, please forgive my son. He's only speaking out of concern for her Highness and the...the traditions of our homeland."
Callidus's jaw clenched with a nearly audible click. Cressida, sensing the building strain, firmly placed her hand on his shoulder. "Wori, I appreciate your care for me and our traditions. I will handle the communication with my parents as soon as Circumstances allow," she reassured, before her gaze returned to Callidus. "After all, if my parents don't approve, our marriage will always be illegitimate in Eflia."
"I assure you, love, that your parents will grant their approval," he said through a tight smile. "After all, I have the same, if not more, qualifications than Ferox, given that I am still among the living."
A subtle exasperated exhale escaped through her nostrils before she turned back to address the room. "Regardless," she declared, "You all have my word that you will be released after the Coronation. His Future Majesty has given his assurance, and I trust that he, in his honesty, will honor it." Her gaze once again shot to Callidus, a blend of pleading and demand evident in her eyes.
The prisoners, still bewildered by the sudden developments, seemed to accept Cressida's promise. A murmur of appreciation and relief swept through the prison, gradually replacing the uneasy atmosphere with cautious optimism. However, Callidus couldn't shake the weight of several suspicious eyes scrutinizing him.
"When is the Coronation?" a woman asked.
"It's after midnight now, so technically tomorrow," Cressida answered.
"And how'd you get exonerated?" Another woman called.
Cressida let out a soft wry laugh. "...His Future Majesty made that decision."
As Cressida continued engaging with the prisoners, providing answers to their questions, and offering reassurances, the tension in the air began to dissipate. Callidus, however, remained on edge, maintaining a locked gaze with Cressida whenever their eyes met.
The plump woman from before inquired about Cilla, her eyes watery with concern. Cressida, with a pretty smile, assured her, "Cilla is fine, Ostara. She's still serving as my Lady's maid."
"Oh, that's wonderful news, Your Highness," the woman sniffled. "I was so worried when she wasn't put in here with the rest of us. Is she still stealing your dessert?"
"Of course," Cressida laughed lightly. "She had my entire serving of tarts tonight."
Callidus tilted his head, intrigued by her apparent hypocrisy.
(Why was she allowed to lie when he wasn't?)
The ongoing visit to the prison saw Cressida's initial joy at reuniting with her people transform into a heavy responsibility. The weight of promises made, expectations raised, and lingering uncertainties began to cast a dark shadow on her features.
Sensing her distress, Callidus approached as she comforted a crying young woman. Choosing a moment when the conversation lulled, he gently touched her arm. "Cressida," he murmured, "It is late, and there is much I need to show you. Let us leave the prisone- your people to their rest."
As Cressida finished her goodbyes, wiping away tears from both herself and her people, she reluctantly allowed Callidus to take her arm and guide her away from the prison cells. The echoes of gratitude and relief faded behind them as the heavy iron doors closed with a resonant thud.
The walk from the prison was silent.
Cressida kept her gaze forward, avoiding eye contact with Callidus, who stole occasional glances at her. The air felt charged with unspoken words, waiting to be addressed.
"Cressida," he began, his voice a soft murmur. "I did not mean to upset you when I said that we shared a-"
"Callidus, it's not always about you," she muttered, cutting off his attempt at explanation.
He fell silent.
The darkness swallowed the sound of their footsteps as they walked through the palace corridors. Guards passed by at a rapid pace, but this time Cressida did not flinch at their approach. Instead, she appeared deeply lost in thought, a crease forming between her brows.
As they walked, Callidus realized he had subconsciously led them back to Windridge Tower. A rebellious thought crossed his mind – she probably wouldn't notice until they reached the stairs. Yes, she would be angry, but history had shown that she would eventually get over it.
What good was honesty? What good was it when the truth seemed to complicate more than it clarified?
Callidus stole another glance at her.
After all, she hadn't been truthful with her people just now, offering promises and reassurances that she had no way of guaranteeing. Deflecting any questions about Quail and lying about Cilla's whereabouts. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.
However, he found himself saying, "Cressida, we have two choices. We can retire for the night, or we can continue to where I had planned to take you."
Cressida blinked, as if pulling herself from a reverie. "What were the options again?" she asked, her voice distant.
"The Guest wing, my study, or the royal tombs."
"...we're closest to your study. Let's go there first," she eventually decided.
When they reached the heavy wooden door of Callidus's study. He ushered Cressida inside, and the door closed with a soft thud behind them. The study was dimly lit, and Callidus moved to light a lantern as Cressida took in their surroundings. Her attention was immediately drawn to his desk, and his first thought was that she was recalling the passionate kisses they shared during her last visit.
"Callidus, what's that?"
To his dismay, he realized the memory crystal was still replaying.
"...a memory crystal," he replied tightly.
She let out a scoff as she approached the desk. "I am aware. But...that's me."
Callidus sighed, bracing himself for the confrontation. "Yes, darling. It's the...memory crystal that the queen showed me. I already told you about it."
As Cressida watched the memory play, her jaw popped open, "Callidus, I never said this. I never asked the queen for help."
He felt a spark of irritation at her persistent denial.
"Yes, as you've said before," he replied evenly, watching her closely as she continued to stare at the orb, reliving the moments she claimed were false.
"Why is it replaying like this?"
"The new crystals do that," Callidus explained curtly. "I do not know how to stop it."
With a burst of air, he snatched the crystal from its stand on the desk, hastily wrapping it in a thick tapestry from the wall. The fabric silenced the haunting sound of Cressida's desperate plea, and Callidus closed the crystal tightly in the bottom drawer of his desk.
"There. It won't trouble us any longer," he declared.
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
"Callidus, that memory is fake," she said firmly.
"Cressida, I didn't bring you in here to lie to me."
"I'm not lying to you!" she shot back, her eyes ablaze with conviction.
He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. "Cressida, I'm not angry with you. I've already forgiven you. You don't need to deny it."
Cressida's frustration escalated. "Callidus, I'm telling you the truth! I never spoke to the queen about escaping. I never called you a murderous monster. None of that happened."
"Cressida, please," he pleaded. "I'm trying to be honest with you tonight."
"Callidus, I'm being honest!"
Callidus felt a twinge of doubt, a flicker of uncertainty that danced at the edges of his mind. The air in the room hung heavy with unspoken words, the unresolved tension threatening to fracture the fragile balance between them.
"That...that doesn't matter right now," he stammered uneasily. "That's not what I brought you here to see."
Cressida's frustration seemed to fade momentarily; her anger replaced by a guarded curiosity. "What is it, then?"
Callidus circled behind his desk, gesturing for her to follow. He slowly opened the top drawer, unveiling a collection of neatly organized letters. The Eflian seal, unmistakable in its floral design, adorned each one. Cressida's gaze landed on the letters, then flicked up to meet his eyes. "Callidus," she whispered, her voice dripping with disappointment.
"...these are all my correspondence with your nation," he said, averting his eyes. "It will be one-sided, of course, but I assume you'll be able to understand just by reading their replies."
Without a word, Cressida gathered the letters close to her chest. With a warm gust, Callidus shifted his massive mahogany chair toward her, and she settled into it without acknowledging him.
"...take your time, love," he murmured, feeling an anxious thrum within the pit of his stomach.
He stood in silence as Cressida delved into the letters. The room pulsed with anticipation, the only sound the rustle of paper as she sifted through each one. His eyes remained fixed on her face, tracking the rapid movement of her eyes across the words, her emotions flickering like shadows in the candlelight.
After a few minutes, Cressida muttered. "...Callidus, did you threaten my parents?"
"...they...misinterpreted some of my words."
"Misinterpreted how?"
"I simply informed them of the...extent of Ashlar's influence."
Cressida let out a tense breath of air, "Yes, I'm sure my father loved that."
"He wrote the next letter."
Cressida's eyes shifted to where Callidus gestured before swiftly opening and scanning the contents, her expression transitioning from sorrow to, surprisingly, amusement.
"Papa," she murmured affectionately. "This isn't his usual signature. It's actually an old Eflian curse. Roughly translates to 'may your thread run out.'" She shook her head. "I'm genuinely surprised his letter is so diplomatic. My mother takes charge of international relations for a reason."
Callidus allowed himself a small smile, relieved to see a hint of humor in Cressida's reaction. As she continued to read through each letter, the emotional journey played out on her face. Callidus watched, his own anxiety mounting with each passing moment.
"Callidus..." she muttered in disapproval. "You closed the borders?"
Callidus shifted uncomfortably. "I did. It was a preemptive measure to prevent any attempts to forcefully take you back to Eflia."
"Do you know how many Eflians you probably stranded in Ashlar? You're our primary trade partner. Not to mention food importer. If it were winter, Eflia would be facing a famine."
Callidus winced as he mumbled, "I'll...reopen the borders once we're formally engaged."
Cressida continued to sift through the letters, eventually letting out a frustrated groan. "Callidus! You did ask for their blessing!"
"I...did. I thought if they knew I intended to marry you, it would ease tensions."
"But you did it after you closed the borders," she pointed out. "And while I was newly imprisoned under suspicion of murder!"
"I realize it might not have been the best timing, but I thought it would demonstrate that I had faith in your innocence. And I...was eager."
"Callidus, it looks more like securing your claim to the throne by marrying your dead brother's fiancée." She shut down his impending protest. "I know your intentions, but the optics, Callidus! Closing the borders, imprisoning my people, and proposing while tensions were high - it looks like a power play to anyone else. And you didn't think to share this with me earlier? When we were discussing my parents' approval back in the prison?"
"I thought a private discussion would be better."
An exasperated sigh escaped Cressida. "Because they refused?"
"Only for now. They will approve," he said. Her eyes widened, glancing at the letters she hadn't read, and he clarified, "...they haven't approved yet. But they will eventually."
"Callidus, why didn't you let me respond to any of these letters?"
"We were fighting at the time."
"We haven't always been fighting, Callidus. What about a few days ago? What about yesterday when you said we could write a letter together?"
"Cressida, I thought telling you after I had tried and failed would only upset you more. I didn't want you to know about our nation's tensions when we were finally-" He halted as Cressida raised her hand, a clear signal for him to stop.
"I know you had your reasons. You always do," she said quietly, her voice a mixture of resignation and understanding. "But right now, I don't want to hear them."
The letters lay spread out on the desk, and Cressida sifted through them in silence. Callidus stood nearby, watching her with growing introspection. He wasn't accustomed to feeling guilt for his decisions, but a nagging discomfort gnawed at him. He didn't regret his choices, but he despised how they affected Cressida.
Was that remorse? Was that what Cressida wanted from him?
The unspoken laws of Cressida's world confounded him. She seemed to operate on a different level, navigating emotions and connections with a depth that eluded him. Lying was acceptable, but only when she did it. Kissing him was acceptable, yet she didn't love him. Sleeping with him was acceptable, yet she claimed they weren't lovers.
The intricacies of their relationship unfolded like a puzzle, and Callidus struggled to understand the rules that governed her heart.
Cressida's brows furrowed further as she continued to scan the letters, her expression shifting to one of genuine hurt and confusion. Breaking the silence that had lingered for the last ten minutes, Callidus ventured, "What is it, love?"
Her voice wavered slightly as she began to read aloud.
"'While we acknowledge the efforts you've made to keep us updated on the wellbeing of our daughter, we find it prudent to focus on the broader interests of Eflia...'" Her hands clutched the paper, knuckles turning white as she continued, "'The current state of affairs has strained diplomatic relations and endangered the welfare of our citizens. We have decided to redirect our efforts towards negotiating the reopening of the borders, trusting that you, in your conviction, will uphold the promises you have made to safeguard her until her return.'"
She fell silent, staring at the page as if willing the words to change upon a second reading.
"...my mother sounds so...detached," she mumbled. "And...they asked for Quail's return more than they asked for mine. For some reason, I thought they'd..." she trailed off, her expression briefly contorting into pain before she snatched another letter, devouring its contents.
"'While we understand and appreciate the invitation for your Coronation, we regret to inform you that it is not feasible at this time. Send our best regards to our daughter...'" The paper crinkled under her grip.
"Best regards?" she whispered, the words barely audible. "Not even love? But regards?" She let out a breath of air. "Family is supposed to be a place of unconditional protection and support. But it feels like they're...giving up on me. It feels like when I was... convinced to marry Ferox all over again. My mother sat me down and showed me all your father's threats. And then told me it was my choice. But what choice did I actually have? It was either comply with Ashlar's wishes or witness my nation being invaded. There was never a real choice, and my mother knew that."
Instinctively, Callidus reached out to comfort her, but she waved him off to massage her temples; the letters momentarily forgotten on the desk. "...why didn't they ever respond to my letter? The one I wrote months ago?"
Without meeting her eyes, Callidus sent a hesitant tendril of air to open the middle drawer of his desk and retrieve an envelope. He gently placed the unsent letter on her lap, a tangible weight added to the already charged atmosphere.
Cressida's eyes landed on the letter, and then she stared at Callidus.
Callidus stared back.
She made a silent, sort of helpless gesture with her arms before sinking against the back of the chair, her head tilted back, her grey eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"...I've kept everything you've written," he hurriedly confessed. "All the letters you had discarded while trying to write this one. All the letters you sent Ferox and the little doodles you drew in the Sapphire Suite..."
"Callidus, why?"
"I think your handwriting is beautiful."
"And I think you're utterly insane," Cressida muttered, her eyes darting to the still-open drawer, to the substantial stack of meticulously folded papers. Callidus shifted nervously as Cressida began to rifle through the drawer, her apparent disdain growing with each paper bearing her handwriting. "...lady's mantle, Callidus. I think I wrote this letter when I was eight."
"...you wrote that one when you were ten," he mumbled, recognizing the pattern of the ink stain on the left corner of the page. "Because Ferox was twelve."
Cressida glanced up from the drawer, staring at Callidus incredulously. "...and what does this letter say?" she asked, holding the page away from his view.
Callidus hesitated for a moment, then recited softly from memory, "...Dear Crown Prince Ferox of Ashlar, I hope this letter finds you well. Jasper says that you're probably busy with your studies and that's why you haven't responded to my last letter. I had a lot of fun this summer and can't wait for the next one. I like autumn a lot but I don't like..."
Cressida's eyes read along on the page, before she let out a disbelieving breath, causing Callidus to trail off, a hint of embarrassment heating the back of his neck.
"Callidus, please tell me you don't have all of these letters memorized."
"...not...not all of them, Cressida," he protested, but Cressida looked back down at the letter, her eyes scanning the lines. Her grip loosened and Callidus could see the letter just over her shoulder, falling silent as he read along with her.
'...when the flowers start to die. The sunflowers stay around for a long time, and so do the marigolds. I think those might be my favorite flower, but it's so hard to pick. (But not flowers, those are easy to pick.) I know you said you didn't like flowers, but I wanted to tell you about them anyway. Maybe you'll change your mind one day, and I can show you how to plant flowers. (Instead of destroying them.)
I watched our knights training outside, and it made me think of you. I hope your sword practice is going well. I am getting much better with my lute. Quail says that 'birdies' sing and don't need instruments, but I think he is mad he can't play the lute since he has old fingers.
I miss you a lot. Jasper misses you too, but he says he's not going to write a letter unless you write one first. Even though we're far apart, I hope we can still be friends. Please write back when you can.
Your friend,
Princess Cressida of Eflia.'
Callidus watched as Cressida's finger traced the innocent words she had written as a child. He felt that familiar ache of envy that overcame him each time he read one of Cressida's letters to his brother. Her expression was full of sorrow, and he painfully wondered if she was thinking about Ferox again.
Her words, however, surprised him.
"...so, at the time I wrote this letter, you had already been sent on campaign. You had already killed people. I was writing about sunflowers and you..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "It's surreal to think about."
"I like sunflowers," Callidus interjected softly. "And I loved your letters. I read them over and over again." He glanced at the stack of letters in the drawer before admitting, "...Ferox never got this letter. I hated that you wrote such wonderful, sweet things to him and he would just throw the letters away."
Cressida sent him an exasperated glance as she began to sift through the papers in the drawer. "...I wondered why he hardly ever replied," she muttered. "I'm sure this wasn't the first letter you had intercepted." Cressida's fingers thumbed another letter, noting the page had pieces meticulously torn from it. "...what happened to this one?"
"I...took out all mentions of Ferox. Sometimes I'd like to pretend that you wrote them to me."
Cressida shook her head, "Why keep his letters, Callidus? Why not write your own? You were Ferox's brother; I would have responded."
Callidus shifted uncomfortably at the thought of only being 'Ferox's brother' to her. "I couldn't write you a letter," he said bitterly. "I had seen the future. You were supposed to introduce yourself to me. Until that time, I just...wanted to hold on to something tangible, something that connected me to you."
She let out a sad sigh as she continued sifting through the letters in the drawer, but her eyes widened at the sight of an ornate box made of polished stone tucked away in the back corner.
"Ah. That doesn't belong in there," Callidus muttered, remembering that he had stashed Jasper's gift away after their fight. He attempted to retrieve it with a cool breeze, intending to return it to the shelf, but Cressida snatched it out of the air.
"Where did you get these dice?" she asked immediately.
Callidus fumbled, caught off guard by Cressida's swift reaction. "How did you know they were dice?" he stammered.
"I gave these dice to my brother last year," she said sharply. "They were a wedding present."
Callidus's eyes widened.
"What?"
"I commissioned an artisan to make this for Jasper. Callidus, answer me."
Resentment surged through Callidus as he grasped Jasper's calculated move.
It was never a gift for him.
It was a deliberate ploy for Cressida to recognize it.
"Why do you have my brother's wedding present?" she demanded.
Callidus took a steadying breath, attempting to mask the surge of betrayal. His first gift from a friend had been a lie. (Just like everything else in his life.)
"Do you wish to continue going through your parents' letters, Cressida, or do you wish to stop here?"
Cressida shot him a piercing look. "Don't evade my question, Callidus. Why do you have my brother's wedding present?"
"I'm not evading," he insisted, his agitation bubbling beneath the surface. "Please, continue reading the letters. I think you'll find the answers you seek."
Her fingers tightened around the dice box as if ready to wield it as an improvised weapon. Callidus played out the scene in his mind - the sharp impact of the stone against his temple, the fleeting satisfaction it might bring her, and the subsequent wave of guilt and compassion. A part of him yearned for a physical confrontation, for the relief of it, but predictably, she carefully set the box down on the desk with a soft rattle.
Silence draped over the study as she resumed reading the letters. Callidus fixated on her face, scrutinizing the subtle shifts in expression. Anger contorted into confusion, and then she jerked her head up, locking eyes with him.
"You're holding my brother hostage."
"...only somewhat."
"Somewhat?" She scoffed. "What do you mean 'somewhat'?"
"He's only somewhat my hostage. He came to Ashlar of his own volution."
"And you didn't tell me."
Callidus winced, sensing the tension escalating. "Jasper was here to take you back to Eflia. I'm sure you can understand why I was reluctant to let him see you."
Realization lit up her widened eyes. "My family sent him here to rescue me?"
"You don't need rescue, Cressida. But, no, as far as I'm aware, this was an independent and foolish move on your brother's part. Your parents never planned to come for you." Cressida's hopeful expression faded into deep hurt and Callidus immediately regretted his choice of words. "But Jasper was to attend my Coronation," he said, attempting to console her. "I had planned for your reunion to be a joyful surprise. However, Jasper and I had a disagreement, and it had to be postponed."
Cressida's expression shifted from hurt to confusion, and then to a mix of emotions that Callidus couldn't quite decipher. He could sense the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings churning within her. "Disagreement about what?" she finally asked.
Callidus hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It was about you, Cressida. He thought that I had...intimately hurt you when he learned we share a bed."
Cressida's jaw popped open, "Why would you ever tell my brother that?!"
Callidus shifted uncomfortably. "He was questioning my intentions, and I was trying to explain our relationship."
"By saying we share a bed!"
"We do share a bed," Callidus stammered. "Are you...ashamed of that?"
"Yes!"
The room plunged into a weighted silence.
"...you are?" Callidus asked in disbelief.
Cressida averted her eyes, her cheeks flushed with anger, embarrassment, and the telltale signs of suppressed tears.
He stared at her, struggling to grapple with the unexpected weight of her confession. His chest constricted, panic seeping through the cracks of his composure. Sharing a bed had quickly become a comforting constant in their tumultuous relationship, a tangible reassurance that she trusted him in the vulnerability of sleep.
The air in the room thinned, making it difficult for him to breathe.
He managed to get out, "You feel this way, perhaps, because... we are not married yet?"
Cressida seemed to notice the change in air pressure, and a flicker of apprehension crossed her face. She sighed, before reaching up to place a steadying hand on his arm. "Callidus, our relationship is... My...my feelings towards you - I can't even find the words to describe it. If I can't even wrap my head around it, then no one else can. Especially not my family."
He murmured an apology, but the weight of 'ashamed' carved into his mind like a crack in granite. He captured her hand, running his thumb over their engagement ring. "But...shame?" he whispered. "You're ashamed of me?"
Cressida met his gaze, her eyes flicking down to stare at the ring before meeting his once more. "I'm not ashamed of you, Callidus," she said softly. "I think I'm ashamed of myself. For falling for you again and again."
Callidus's heart skipped a beat.
"What?"
Cressida's eyes widened, and she quickly backtracked. "Not like that, Callidus. I...I meant for your lies. I didn't mean to imply..."
Pain stung him, crushing the tired fluttering of hope before it could breathe. His grip tightened, the cold metal engagement ring a lonely reassurance against his skin. "But...you do agree that we're in a relationship?" he weakly pleaded. "That we are lovers?"
Cressida sighed, her features tensing, and she shut her eyes, as though attempting to shield herself from the intensity of the moment. "Callidus, can we go back to the topic of my brother?"
"Are we lovers?" Callidus pressed.
"Callidus."
"Cressida, please. I need to know if you consider what we have a relationship or if I should put in more effort."
Cressida cracked open her eyes, fixing an incredulous stare upon him. "Callidus, the idea of you putting in 'more effort' terrifies me."
Callidus stared at her in complete bewilderment. "...isn't that what you want from me? For me to...to try harder?"
"Callidus, I've learned we have completely different definitions of everything." Cressida withdrew her hand from his, crossing her arms over her chest. "...and you're already so intense, I don't even want to know how you'd interpret 'more'."
"I love you," he asserted, his hand suddenly feeling empty. "If you loved me, everything would be so simple."
"Why does, even that, sound like a threat?"
"But it's not...!" Callidus said tightly. "Why do you interpret everything I say as a threat?"
"Because you're holding my brother hostage!"
"Your brother attacked me."
Cressida's eyes widened, her attention snapping to the scab on Callidus's lip. "Jasper did that?" she gasped. "How badly did you hurt him?"
"Why do you automatically assume I hurt him?"
"Callidus."
"...alright I did," he reluctantly confessed. "But he has no missing limbs. No broken bones. And, regardless, he's lost all memory of the incident."
"What?"
"He's fine," Callidus hurriedly added. "And I'll let you see him later. As I said, Jasper came to Ashlar unannounced on his own. Despite the circu- situation, he's been treated as a guest. I simply took advantage of his presence when... negotiating with Eflia."
"What do you mean negotiating?"
"...a letter arrived this morning. Due to the...hectic nature of the day, I haven't had a chance to read it yet. Shall we read it together?"
Cressida hesitated, her gaze locked with Callidus's. The weight of the unspoken tension between them lingered in the air, but she finally nodded, her curiosity overpowering her reservations.
Callidus summoned the letter, the Eflian seal breaking under the gentle force of the breeze. He swept the paper to Cressida's hand, and she took it with trembling fingers.
"...what do you mean negotiating?" she repeated.
"Let's find out," Callidus suggested, trying to keep his tone neutral, though a surge of nervous excitement churned in his chest.
"To the King Regent, His Future Majesty, Callidus of Ashlar," Cressida began, her voice steady but filled with apprehension. "In light of recent events and in consideration of the well-being of our citizens, we, the royal family of Eflia, propose a resolution to the current diplomatic impasse."
Her eyes flickered up to meet Callidus's, a silent question hanging in the air. He nodded for her to continue.
"We understand that Crown Prince Jasper has made an unsanctioned journey to Ashlar, and we regret any strain this may have caused. In an effort to restore amicable relations between our nations, we hereby offer a formal agreement."
Callidus felt a surge of anticipation, his heart pounding as he absorbed the words, but Cressida's voice faltered, and she stopped reading. Callidus leaned forward, scanning the page over her shoulder with eager eyes.
'In exchange for the safe return of Crown Prince Jasper and all Eflian hostages currently in your custody, and for a treaty of non-aggression between Ashlar and Eflia, we propose the following terms:
The cessation of all military maneuvering at the border by the nation of Eflia.The revocation of Grand Scholar Quail Walerian's Eflian citizenship, for the agreed-upon sum of three thousand Ashlarian crowns.A binding union between Cressida, Princess of Eflia, and yourself, King Regent of Ashlar, to be solemnized no later than the coming Spring.The re-establishment of Diplomatic relations between Eflia and Ashlar, with the intention of a prolonged alliance, with the understanding that Princess Cressida's indefinite residence in Ashlar is a gesture of goodwill and commitment to peace.
We trust that these terms will be received with the gravity and consideration befitting the sovereigns of our great nations. It is our fervent hope that this proposal paves the way for a renewed era of collaboration and harmony.
Sincerely,
Queen Adelaide of Eflia
King Evander of Eflia'
Callidus's eyes darted over the lines, and a triumphant smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The terms were everything he had hoped for – the start of an alliance, the end of diplomatic tensions, and, most importantly,
Her parents' approval.
He turned to Cressida; his eyes alight with excitement. "Cressida...!"
Cressida's expression, however, was a mix of disbelief and shock. She pulled the letter closer, reading the terms again as if searching for some hidden message. Callidus watched her closely, the elation in his chest tempered by the hurt in her eyes.
"...Cressida, are you-"
But before he could finish his sentence, tears welled in Cressida's eyes, and her emotional dam burst forth. The letter slipped from her grasp as she crumpled inward. Her face disappeared behind trembling hands, shoulders convulsing with the rawness of her sobs.
Reacting swiftly, Callidus dropped to his knees beside Cressida. A rush of wind slid her chair back as he stared up at her with wide, worried eyes. "...Cressida, Cressida..." His arms encircled her legs in a desperate and tentative embrace. She immediately leaned into him, her arms tightly pressing against his back. He could feel her body trembling against him as he gently cradled her lap.
"I'm sorry, Cressida. My goal was for them to willingly accept our marriage without resorting to hostage negotiations. But it will be alright."
Cressida's sobs muffled her incoherent response, and he felt the warmth of her tears land on the top of his head. He held her tightly, his heart breaking with each of her shuddering breaths. He pressed gentle kisses against her knees and his murmurs of comfort disappeared into the fabric of her powder blue dress.
"Cressida, it's alright. Everything is fine. Y-your brother already supports our marriage. And...and I'll...I'll bring gifts for your parents when we visit for our honeymoon. This is all temporary, don't you see?"
Cressida's response, a high-pitched wail of anguish, pierced his heart, "...they abandoned me...!"
Callidus's eyes widened as he realized what she was truly upset about.
Not the fact that he manipulated her parents.
But that they surrendered.
"I'm not surprised they chose Jasper over me," she sobbed. "But it hurts, Callidus. It hurts so much to know they'd sacrifice me. Again...!"
Callidus felt a surge of helplessness, "You're not a sacrifice, Cressida-"
"They gave up on me. How can they...they possibly love me if they're willing to just...just throw me away?! At least they knew Ferox, but you... You! They don't know you!
"I love you. Ferox never loved you, but I do! I'm better for you!"
"But they don't know you!" she repeated.
His grip on her legs tightened as Callidus wrestled with the enormity of finding the right words in the face of her pain. "I know, love. I know. But you do. You know me."
"Do I actually?" she whimpered.
"You do, you do, you do" Callidus insisted. Desperately, he unwound one arm from behind her legs, and reached up to her face, tracing the air around her cheek, both frantic and reverent.
"You know I love you," he pleaded. "You know I do. You know I'll protect you and provide for you. I may be...unconventional. But you know I'll be a good husband to you. I promise. I promise."
Cressida shakily inhaled, the air helpfully flooding her lungs. "Callidus, I've barely known you for a summer!"
"Eighty-four days," he readily answered. "And do you realize how deeply you know me already? Our lifetime awaits, and I'm prepared to make any sacrifice for you."
"Callidus, you killed someone today. You killed your brother. Is death the only sacrifice you believe love demands?"
"You know I'd kill for you; die for you. Isn't there something to be said for that level of devotion?"
"Devotion shouldn't demand death," Cressida breathed, searching for understanding in the depths of his eyes. "Is that what you believe love is?"
"Isn't it?" he countered, meeting her gaze with conviction. "Love is sacrifice, Cressida. It's protection. Safety. Loyalty. You never have to fear being abandoned with me."
"Killing is not a demonstration of love," she said carefully, though a flicker of doubt appeared in her eyes. "Love should be... soft, and gentle."
His fingertips traced a delicate path along her skin, a silent plea for acceptance. "Not always, Cressida. Love can't always be gentle." He paused, staring up at her as he noticed a tear lingering on the very tip of her eyelash. He plucked the drop from her face with the slightest of winds. "But for you, I will be. I promise." He lowered his voice to an impassioned whisper, "I promise."
As if unable to stop herself, Cressida began to lean into Callidus's palm, her bloodshot eyes fluttering closed as he cradled her face. The cool dampness of her skin met his touch, and his expression softened, a surge of heartbreak and affection welling up within him. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, wiping away another tear.
"I'll be gentle for you," he vowed. "I'll be soft for you; care for you, keep you safe and loved. I know it hurts now, but I'll make you happy. I'll learn how to make you happy. I recognize the wrongs I've committed against you, but I want to learn. I want to learn to be someone you won't be ashamed to claim."
"But secrets, Callidus..." she whispered, her face turning away. He let his hand fall from her face, his heart aching. "Every time you say you're sorry, it's followed by more secrets. How am I supposed to trust your apologies when they're just a prelude to more deceit?"
"I know," he confessed, folding forward and enveloping her lap, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "And I'm done with that. I pledged honesty to you, and tonight, I'll unveil every hidden facet. No more secrets, no more hidden truths."
Tenderly, he pressed a lingering kiss to her skirt, sealing a solemn oath. "Everything changes tonight. I'm dismantling every barrier between us and whoever you encounter thereafter is yours to keep."
They remained in that position until Callidus's legs had fallen numb on the floor, his arms tightly coiled around Cressida. He endured the ache in his muscles, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace that enveloped them. Her tears had abated, and her form lay draped over his, her breathing now steady and rhythmic.
As the minutes passed, Cressida stirred, shifting in his arms. Callidus reluctantly loosened his firm grip, allowing her to lift her head from his shoulder and sit back in the chair. The redness in her eyes was stark against the paleness of her face.
"Cressida," Callidus murmured, reaching for her hand. "Are you alright?"
"Jasper."
Understanding the weight beneath her concise reply, Callidus nodded, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.
"I'll take you to him."