That night, I can't sleep. I feel restless, even more so than usual, so I slide out of bed to get some valerian root. As I pad down the hallway, I notice that the door to Caspian's bedroom is slightly ajar. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Caspian values his privacy: his door is rarely ever open. Curiosity getting the best of me, I push the wide mahogany door open all the way. I gingerly walk inside, apprehensive of what I might find.
The room is empty, Caspian nowhere in sight. A large, ornate bed frame with golden vines climbing up the supports takes up the left side of the room, crumpled sheets strewn across the mattress. A chest of drawers is pushed up against the right wall, a golden mirror resting on top. Next to it, a round table, strewn with maps of the Eorian palace and letters written in Caspian's loopy, slanted handwriting. Moonlight streams in from the open window, curtains billowing in the midnight wind. I feel a panic rise in my chest. For a second, I fear that Caspian has been kidnapped, another Xeorian assassin sent to finish what the other could not. But I calm myself: Caspian is skilled with both a knife and hand-to-hand combat. He would not have gone down without a fight, and the room shows no sign of struggle.
A thought occurrs to me. Returning to my room, I retrieved my coat and slippers. Sliding them on, I made my way to the palace gardens. A cold wind hit me as I stepped outside, causing my white hair to whip around me wildly, but I tucked my chin into my chest and walked towards the cemetery. The palace gardens were sprawling, housing every type of flower, herb and plant you could possibly imagine. A greenhouse occupied the bottom right corner, and a small gazebo stood in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a small moat of dark, churning waters. In the farthest corner, behind a dense thicket of trees, lay the cemetery where Genevive had been buried earlier today.
I peered through the trees. Sure enough, crouched among headstones and chrysanthemum bushes, was Caspian, his head bowed. I stilled my breathing, and tried not to move. I didn't want to bother him, to disrupt his mourning, but my breath caught in my throat when I realized he was crying. Silent tears dripped down his face as he stared down at Genevive's headstone.
"Why'd you go?' he whispered into the night air. "Why'd you leave me here?" His breath hitched. "I can't do this on my own. I miss you, Gen."
Seeing Caspian, the one who is always calm, unmoving, as constant as the sun itself, cry made my stomach churn. Everytime his voice broke, I felt a part of my heart dislodge itself in my throat. Before I realized it, I was crying too, my face wet with tears that took too long to come.
An owl hooted from the branch above me, causing Caspian to snap his head in my direction. When he saw me, a hand immediately flew up to his face to brush his tears away, to put his strong face back on.
"Etharen, what are you doing here?" he demanded, but his tone softened when he noticed my tears.
"When i saw your room empty, i thought they had taken you too." I said, my voice wavering.
YOU ARE READING
A Slip Of Darkness
FantasíaAll's fair in love and war ----- Two warring nations. A life threatening secret Two colours of blood. A cunning princess turned assassin Two royal families A charming prince with a target on his back ----- Princess Etharen Lucerbriar has spent...