Isabelle Pov
I can't recognize my own tears from the water spray on my face anymore. Both stain my dress and I know my hair is horribly wind blown. But I can't bring to care about such things at the moment. My stomach rolls all the way to Ridge house, as Ptolemus had put it. I can't do much more than stare at my own fingers the entire way there. I was too emotionally exhausted to feel angry at the moment, and my tears caused a pulsing headache at the base of my temples.
It doesn't fade, even as one of the servants escort me to my room once we reach Ridge house. She is quiet as she opens the door and leaves. I'm alone. Again.
Large suitcases sit in the corner of the room. I gasp when I notice my house colors. How long has this been a plan? How long have I really had no choice. They're empty.
My stomach lurches violently and bile rises in my throat. I'm in the bathroom in the blink of an eye, heaving into the toilet. What little food I've eaten comes up, and more tears gather in my eyes as my throat burns.
Soon, I'm left dry heaving. Sick. It has to be due to all my emotional turmoil. It has to. Sitting back against the tub, I try to collect myself. My headache is worse, but the darkness of the room is soothing.
Eventually I pull myself off the floor, flushing the toilet and rinsing my mouth out. I stumble back into the bedroom. I collapse into the cold silk, letting it lure me to sleep.
The bed sinks beneath me...a touch of a familiar hand...a fleeting voice.
I awaken when the sky is bright. I already recognize the wrongness of where I am. My mouth is dry and there is a deep pit in my stomach. I blink, and shift so to turn over. I startle at my confines. I raise a stiff limb to touch my neck. My pearls. I'm still in my dress.
But I'm tucked into the covers and my boots lay across the room. Slowly, I sit up brushing my ruined tangled locks from my face.
Someone knocks at the door.
"Come in," I grumble and the door creaks open hesitantly. I brace myself, fearing it's Ptolemus. But a maid steps forward her eyes dropped to the carpets.
"Breakfast my lady," she says and a cart full off food follows her in, pushed by another servant, male. The tempting smell makes my mouth water and my stomach growl. I eyeball the buttered toasts and fresh berries. The steaming plate of bacon and sausage.
"I didn't call for breakfast," I tell her but I climb out of bed anyway.
"His Highness has demanded it be brought to you, my lady."
My fingers freeze as I reach for a large raspberry. "His Highness?"
She nods. "Yes my lady."
She must be mistaken. She has to be. Tiberius can't be here? "What else did he say?"
"Only that we assist you in any way you desire through the day."
His Highness has given me my own personal maids.
I look up to the male servant. He recognizes I'm looking at him but keeps his head down. "Prepare a bath," I tell him gently, "Make sure it's hot."
He bows his head and scurries past me. I take the plates off the cart and carry them to the small table in my antechamber by the window before my maid can. She follows with a steaming cup of tea and kettle.
The table is perched perfectly so the sun doesn't blast me as I gaze out the window. I stare at out. Out. I want out.
Longing clutches my heart. I didn't get to say goodbye. Silent tears run down my already stained cheeks as I chew. My food is suddenly unappealing and tasteless. I didnt get to say goodbye.
Ptolemus Pov
It's been a week. A week since Isabelle had emerged from her chambers. That, or she is really good at avoiding people. Near impossible to do here.
I need to give her time. That I already know. It is best if I avoid her, give her a moment to take this in. I recall her brother, Christian, telling me this a few nights before Maven's wedding.
I sent her breakfast her first morning here. She had to be near starving, having slept through the rest of the day. She was the first stop I made when we arrived home despite Wren's protests. Still clutching my stump of arm to my chest, still sweating with the pain I made my way to her.
I practically collapsed next to her as Wren waited outside, ready to begin the regrowth of my hand as soon as possible.
She looked so fragile, so sad. Her hair messy, her dress stained. Even in her sleep she was frowning. Nothing like my smiling, golden Isabelle.
Wren still checks on my hand every day, making sure that its functioning properly.
Right now however, I try to focus as Elane takes advantage of our arranged marriage. Directing a seamstress as she fixes the final adjustments on her gown.
Isabelle would look so much better in the gown.
Eve stands close to her, touching her hair, grinning in excitement. She had practically insisted we wed as soon as possible. Too soon. Me, I sit a nurse my third, maybe my fourth glass of scotch. With each cup this gets easier to watch.
My own fitting ended ages ago. Elane, always one for appearances, wanted to be sure we matched perfectly. I look down at my long sleeves of my tailored coat, silver embroidery lining the cuffs hating every stitch.
"Tolly," Eve says looking back at me. "What do you think?"
I roll my eyes, slightly annoyed. Slightly tipsy. "Does it really matter?"
Elane is th one to answer, "Of course it does. You are the prince of the Rift, getting married, we must always obtain our best."
I roll my eyes again , raising my glass to my lips.
"You know that Ptolemus," Eve adds making her way over to me. She takes the glass from my hands, and hands it off to a nearby, silent red. "That's enough for you."
I'm about to reply when there is a quiet knock in the door. I sit back, "Come in."
Isabelle's female maid walks in. She bows deeply. I gave her to Isabelle in order to keep an eye on her. So far, however Isabelle keeps to a constant schedule.
"How is she?" I ask her.
"Sleeping now," the girl answers. Nothing new. Isabelle sleeps more now.
"Is she eating?" I ask. I don't miss the way Eve and Elane scowl, hating their moment being stolen from them.
"Ptolemus is this necessary. The girl is clearly depressed," Eve snaps.
"Yes. She eats well. Even asked for more," the girl says after a heartbeat of hesitation at Eve's interruption.
More?
Elane giggles, "Obviously eating away her sorrows."
I scowl turning to her, fury igniting in me. It lifts me to my feet. "If you can't keep your mouth shut-!"
"Ptolmeus!" Eve interrupts.
The maid shakes in her spot. I turn back to her. "Anything else?"
The maid hesitates again before answering. "Late at night. She leaves her room. Has me pull down furs. She can be gone for hours."
"She leaves the Rift?" I ask to nobody. "Where does she go?"
"I wouldn't know, Your Highness, she makes it clear she wishes to be alone."
I nod my head. I have to see her. Now. "You're excused."
I leave Elane and Eve to themselves, rushing to Isabelle's room. She leaves? There is nothing for miles.
I push open her door, my heart pounding in her chest. I haven't seen her in a week, and the last memories she has of me is me taking her away from her family. From all she's ever known.
"Roe?" She calls from the bedroom. I walk towards her. "Roe I said wake me in next hour and a half."
I step into the bedroom doorway, the air gone from my lungs. Isabelle sits st the edge of her bed, slouched and tired. She blinks at me and says nothing.
"Isabelle," I gasp.
She blinks again, her eyes void. Bags are forming under her eyes. She is becoming an echo of what she was, and it breaks me.
"I thought you'd be sleeping."
She sighs, "Couldn't sleep."
Even her voice has lost its chirp. If she was angry with me, she would have snapped. That's gone too.
I shuffle on my feet stupidly. "I...I wanted to see you. I had to see you."
She turns her attention to the glass windows, staring out into the middle of the afternoon.
"Can I come in?" I ask.
She shrugs, "If that is what you wish."
I walk to her, sitting beside her on the bed. She keeps her attention forward. I stare at her, taking in her paled golden skin. Her hair, the dip in her lips. My hands burn. I haven't touched her in a week.
"Can I touch you?" I ask her softly.
Her eyes flicker. I raise my hand, brushing away her hair from her shoulder. She stops breathing for a few moments, but doesn't stop me. I press my nose to her neck, breathing her in, she still uses lavender.
"I'm so sorry, Isabelle," I hear myself say. "I'm so, so very sorry."
Her throat bobs with emotion. She is listening, but she doesn't answer.
"Please forgive me. Come back to me. I love you," I press a kiss to her shoulder. "Are you leaving me?"
She shrugs me away to look at me. The first real emotion in her eyes, confusion. "Where am I to go?"
"You leave to Rift every night."
"Fresh air. Excerise."
A weight is lifted off my chest. She isnt looking for escape, although she must be tempted. She's taking care of herself.
"I miss you," I tell her. The emotion fades away in her eyes and she turns back to the windows.
"Enjoy your wedding day."
Isabelle Pov
I couldn't bear to look at him. Seeing him brought so many emotions to me, ones I weren't ready for. Anger, betrayal, longing, sadness. I push it away, or I try to.
In my dreams every night I recall the last words Christian said to me. Telling me not to fight it. To go. That Ptolemus would keep me safe. That he was sorry.
It all makes sense now. Father, who held me so close and whispered to me that I was always loved. Chris who asked if my feelings for Ptolemus were true. Father and Christian in a heated conversation the day my brothers returned from the coronation tour.
It all makes sense now. I never had a choice. I was going away, because they thought it was better. I would be safe.
I wanted to tell them, tell Ptolemus, I understand. I miss you, all of you. Yes, please touch me. But something held me back. My rejection hurt him. Why am I pushing him away?
It is nice to know I'm on his mind, even now as his wedding day comes up. A celebration I will not attend. A small, inimitable affair that I have no place in. No energy to dress up. To smile and pretend.
My plans not to attend come to a severe readjustment. Our at least that what it feel like when Ptolmeus' mother of all people, breeze her way into my room as I sit at my usual spot eating my dinner.
I rise from my seat, bowing before her. I know nothing about this women except the obvious. Ptolemus never mentions her. And I had never asked. I suppose I regret that now.
"Rise girl," she snaps as if annoyed by my curtsey. I raise my head, to really look at her. She is a stunning woman, with ebony dark hair and fair skin. Petite however, its hard to imagine she was the one to give birth to her children.
"Your Majesty," I start, "For what do I owe to pleasure."
She waves a hand and strolls over to my closet. Dresses of all styles hang there along with any training or normal clothing I may need. They all stick to my house colors. None of them, I took part in designing though.
"Oh, I only came to see for myself the girl that has my son tripping over himself."
I say nothing. And she notices.
"I assume you know that he is due to be wed tomorrow?"
"Yes," I answer and my gut clenches.
She sucks her teeth, "Well then, you need to make an impression, girl. And I just wanted to be sure that you do."
I nearly drop my jaw. She's making me go to his wedding.
I don't dare tell her that I had no plan to go. I, once more, have no choice in the matter. The very last thing I would want to do, as an intruder, a prisoner in her home, is to anger her by denying her commands.
"How kind of you, Your Majesty."
She pays me no mind as she pulls down a dress. She inspects it for a moment. She smirks and turns the dress towards me.
It's red with gold detailing around the thin slit that goes down my chest. Another long slit is cut through one side, so to expose my thigh.
"I see you have a prefrence. The first time I saw you, my boy nearly swept you away then." Her tone is light and almost friendly. But I know, she is no friend of mine. Nobody here is. I am alone.
"I suppose I do."
He twists her lips, displeased at not seeing my reaction at her mentioning Ptolemus. She narrows her eyes and nearly throws the dress on top of a nearly plush chair.
"I'll see you tomorrow girl," she ends and breezes out.