“Are you done avoiding me?”
Samuel’s luck avoiding Cecilia didn’t extend into Saintsday. A few hours into his shift, he took a break in the waiting area he found before, taking advantage of its emptiness. It didn’t remain so for long. Scant minutes after he’d started relaxing, the noblewoman rounded the wall of crates. Samuel froze as they met each other’s gaze. Ewan, who had been perched on the seat next to the prince, quietly stepped away.
Cecilia acted first, taking the abandoned seat. She looked far more comfortable than Samuel, whose guts roiled with dread. Her calm wasn’t helping.
“I wasn’t avoiding you. I needed time to think.”
She sighed. “As I said before, none of us has the time we think we do. If there’s something you want to say, you should say it.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know what to say. How could I when I don’t know what we are.”
“What we are is simple, two people that have known each other since childhood and care for one another. I would hope the foundation of the past could survive the turmoil of the present.”
Samuel shook his head. She couldn’t know what she was asking. “You said the two of us are similar. Maybe so, because I’m a selfish man. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t command my heart to stop feeling. You don’t have to accept my love, but I can’t pretend I’ll be satisfied with friendship.”
“You’d prefer nothing?”
If he could have anything he wished, he’d want to be someone that could move on. He’d prefer being someone she could love. “It’s the only thing I could survive.”
“…I see. Thank you for being honest with me. And yourself, I suppose.” She stretched and he had to tear his gaze away from her chest.
“I thought you’d be more upset.”
“Why should I be?”
“…I guess you don’t care for me that much.”
She turned to him, eyes shining with amusement as she cradled her chin in her palm. “Because, my dear prince, I’m changing. And if we are the same, that means that you can change too. Maybe we’ll have to part for a time, but it’ll be worth it for a stronger friendship in the future.”
“When you say it like that, you make me sound irrational.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Who am I to judge? I’m no saint to pass judgment on others. Besides, a feeling doesn’t have to be rational. There are plenty of irrational things in the world. Look at the city. Everything about what happened to Quest is irrational, but we still must accept it.”
“I don’t appreciate being compared to that madwoman.”
“What is it the bards say? Love makes madmen of us all. You aren’t wrong, Samuel. Nor are you alone, in the world. I will have to leave you alone for a while.” She chuckled as she climbed to her feet. “My friends were going to join me here, but we’ll have to find somewhere else to spend our break. You shouldn’t be seen like this.”
“I can—”
“Please, Samuel. You know better than anyone that a prince must be discerning with his consideration. How will it look if your lessers send you off? And we both know that will be the story, regardless of the story. Take your time. We’ll find another way to amuse ourselves.”
Her retreating back didn’t give him the opportunity to respond. Ewan appeared at his shoulder and made a thoughtful noise. “Lady Rosefield is a fine woman.”
Samuel scoffed. “Do you think I don’t know that? Why do you think it’s so hard to let her go?”
-
Samuel was still brooding over the conversation with Cecilia as he rode home. A sudden stop jolted him out of his thoughts as it threw him forward, the prince throwing out his arms to keep from falling to the floor. He was still straightening his appearance, when the door was opened. He could just make out Ewan’s face in the weak light of the lantern at the front of the carriage.
“Pardon, your highness, but I need you to exit. We have a situation.”
“What’s going on?” Samuel asked as he climbed out. Spring was rushing forward but winter was clinging to the area, its dying gasps making the night too chilly to stand on the road for long without a coat, which Samuel didn’t have. His unease caused him to scan his surroundings, but the darkness made it impossible to make out anything beyond the vague outlines of the rubble to either side of them.
“A small inconvenience.”
The knight’s eyes flashed with channeled mana, but nothing happened. Before the prince could ask, Ewan motioned for him to move to the front of the carriage. His features slackened into a blank mask as he took in the death before him. Someone, or more likely a group of someones, had peppered the driver’s bench with arrows. The vast majority were useless debris, their tips missing and shafts shattered. Half a dozen had still made it into the driver, his wide-open eyes saying that he had died too quickly to understand what was happening.
The two stallions pulling the carriage lay sprawled over the road, even more projectiles sticking out of their bodies. Samuel noted that an earthen spike slightly raised the front of the carriage. The reason for the sudden stop, he assumed. Ewan had taken action before they could crash.
“Are we in danger?”
“No. I felt the responsible parties fleeing with tremorsense. It’s possible that they’re just out to cause trouble…but it’s also possible that they’ve slowed us down to make it easier to trap us.”
“You think they can make something to threaten you?”
“These are skilled hunters, your highness. Individually, I doubt any are my match, but they are used to fighting stronger opponents. If the entire road from here to the Hall is trapped, it might be enough to overwhelm me. It certainly calls into question my ability to protect you.”
“Then…we turn back.”
“It’s the best move. We’ve already passed that way and we’re not too far from the camp. In the morning, we can prepare a proper escort.” Ewan motioned and Samuel stepped behind him, knowing to stay close. “Step lively. I want to get back as soon as possible.”