Ptolemus Pov
"She is going," Mother says as she cuts into her dinner, her tone leaving little room for argument, "Isn't that what you want anyway, Ptolemus."
My voice catches in my throat. I do want her with me. But I want her safe as well. I can handle myself, Isabelle's voice fills my head as I recall what she told me only a few nights ago. "Yes," I hear myself say. "But-,"
"Then there is nothing more to discuss," Mother interrupts, "Isabelle will be going along. I might have some use for her."
"Like what?" I ask keeping my voice level. Of course I should have known. My parents would never willingly take Isabelle along if not for their own reasons. My gut tells me the reason is greater than my mother's personal pleasure.
"Nevermind," she says not bothering to look my way as she continues to eat.
I look across the table, daring to face the green envy on my sister's face. Elane had been forbidden by both my father and her own to come with Corvium with us. With Evangeline. Although I suppose it's best this way. Elane is safer here. I just wish Isabelle could stay too. They would keep each other company. They would be out of harm's way.
Isabelle Pov
I roll on the balls of my feet my shoes speaking on the polished wood as I watch at his side, my body is still warm from my many laps around the training arena, as Ptolemus works the incline press. I watch, fighting the urge to reach out and run my fingers over the smooth skin of his flexing chest. He breathes steadily, keeping his eyes focused straight, focused and calm. He is showing off by now, I know that. But I don't stop him.
"So," I drag tauntingly, a smirk making way across my lips. "What did your parents say?"
He glances at me, "I'm assuming you know," he says speaking in puffs limiting his speech to conserve oxygen.
I tilt my head to the side, "I don't know what you're talking about?" I twist my fingers behind my back.
He pauses for a moment to look back up at me the corner of his mouth lifting, "Belle."
"I want to hear you say it," I say failing to keep the grin off my lips. He sighs and keeps pumping his chest expanding distractingly. I click my tongue and step in front of him grasping the machine in front of him. He stops, his eyes locking with mine in surprise. Pieces of my hair fall from it's frazzled braids, framing my flushed cheeks. "Come on now. Spit it out."
He purses his lips in more amusement than annoyance, "You're going." I step back letting go of the press. He exhales deeply letting it fall back with a loud clamp. Heads turn our way, eyebrows raised. Ptolemus shakes his head grabbing the towel sitting nearby, wiping his face and neck ignoring the looks.
"Don't look so happy," I say my voice thick with sarcasm as I place my hands on my hips.
He sighs placing his elbows on his knees to peer up at me. For some reason this only annoys me. "I'm happy. I just...it's safer here."
"I can take care of myself," I stress, my disdain clear in my voice. "Not that it matters anyway. You have no say in it anymore. I say I'm going, you're parents say so too."
He lurches to his feet, throwing the towel over his shoulder. Any other person would have stepped back due to his size but I stick firm. The very last thing I am is afraid of him. His eyes are frustrated his lips pressed into a grim line. "My parents have some other motive to bring you along. They do everything with purpose, Isabelle."
I cross my arms over my chest. "Yea? What exactly would that be?"
"I don't know!" He admits running his hand over his face. He places his hands on his hips, widening his build. I try to ignore the way his pants hang low on his hips and and the heat still radiating from his bare chest. I know that he knows what he is doing, and I refuse to let him.
"How could you say that about your own parents, anyway?" I hiss lowering my voice and stepping closer.
I ignores my question. His voice is lowered, verging on calm, but still rumbling with restraint. "You're right," he says, "It doesn't matter anymore."
I settle back satisfied, "Of course I am." I place my hands my his shoulders, feeling him shiver under my palms. I implore him to look at me. "Everything is going to be fine."
He chuckles lightly dipping his head. "I'll meet you later."
I purse my lips at his dismissal but let it go as I pull away. I tug at one of my boxer braids, feeling the way they cling to my head as I pull. I recall the better part of the morning, watching as the sky turned blue and the sun grew warm as Roe's fingers threaded through my hair, after I had complained that I needed
something different. Something nobody else had. And that my hair was too much added heat to my skin.
"Fine," I grumbled turning away, starting towards my chambers. For the past couple days Ptolemus has been a frequent guest. I needed to begin packing anyway.
"Isabelle," Ptolemus calls. I turn my head around slowing but not stopping my walk. "I like your hair."
I fight a smile and a warm blush as I turn back around.
I watch Kess load my bags onto the Laris carrier a few days later, the summer heat clinging to his shirt. A soft warm breeze caressed my bare skin, and my white summer dress flows, the afternoon sun making my crystal studded gold sandals shimmer. I tuck my curled baby hair behind my ear, feeling the weight of my thick braid over my shoulder, intertwined with bright gold ribbon. I run my finger over the silk as I'm suddenly hit with longing for my mother.
Ptolemus and I won't be traveling on the same craft, which only makes me riddled with disappointment. And terror. He'll be going straight into the arms of war. My skin tingles and my blood runs cold as a flash of silver blood on the dirt left empty and cold to dry alone in the dark. I close my eyes, and push back tears.
I take a deep breath and exhale, letting my nerves fade away. Evangeline would never let that happen. His father who will be in the battle as well would never let that happen. But war is war. Death is final. The terror comes back in a rush.
I open my eyes as people begin to load in the craft, and I turn my attention to the Samos family who as well has begun to load in. Ptolemus stands beside his sister, both of them standing stiff and straight, their faces blank, eyes ahead. There cousins and a few from the other houses stand in their vicinity, as their almost unnecessary guards.
I don't expect him to look my way, too focused on his own family and emotions but my heart drops when he does. It plummets into my stomach which twists and turns with sickness. The thought of him leaving me makes me sick. His eyes run over my body, down and up with a slow glide, before snapping to my face. His features soften and he tips his head towards me in simple greeting. It's so little, yet so much at this time. It's okay, it says. It's all going to be okay.
The belt buckles of the jet dig into my chest uncomfortably as we descend my gut wracking with mind numbing grief. I can't focus on much, although I try to keep my chin up. I couldn't sleep, although I certainly tried during our flight. For a while, all I could think about was my family. What they could be doing now. Was Kane married now? Was Christian still happily getting drunk? Or Titus and Quinnton still fighting over every simple thing? How old was Titus now? 21, I remembered with a solemn feeling. I can't ever recall missing one of my brother's birthdays.
I look up from the empty chair across from me where I focused my gaze when my skin begins to crawl. Her Majesty looks me over with dark eyes, unreadable and cold. It's a look I'm not used to receiving although I should be used to seeing it, seeing as who's house I'm currently in.
I recall the first time she breezed her way into my chambers the day before Ptolemus's wedding, demanding that I attend. It didn't make sense to me then. My mind was clouded with sorrow and grief and anger. Lots of it. But now I realize it was a way to show me my place. A message, to tell me exactly where I stand. As second. Well maybe to them, a rebellious voice speaks. And perhaps to him, another taunts, colder and louder. It streaks through me, painful and unmerciful.
The jet lands with a gentle thud, and my hands are already unbuckling the suffocating restraints. The hatch opens moments later and Larentia is the first to step out, the jade folds of her dress swishing behind her. Advisors, those who did not wade off into battle follow, some shuffling slower and sluggish due to just being awoken.
I follow them all into the tower of Corivum, feeling drained yet restless at the same time. Once, I thought I would be easier not knowing, living in ignorance, but now I would just give about anything to know. About my siblings, and my parents. About Ptolemus and the battle.
I'm so sleepy. And I'm hungry.
I eventually make it to my room, although I'm sure technically it's Ptolemus' room. I sit on the cushioned couch, slipping off my sandals. It's all dark now, a storm gathering. I glare out into the many windows of this place. They're out there. Somewhere. All of them.
I don't recall closing my eyes.
Sorry for the wait, I was suffering from writer's block. Thank you all for your patience. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Keep leaving comments and don't forget to vote for your favorite chapter. Until next time. :)