DEMENTED | Romance | Fantasy | Slight Thriller

Chapter Twenty-Six: They're going to start gossiping, you know

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Chapter Twenty-Six: They're going to start gossiping, you know

When the sun had cried out its last and the moon rose triumphant again over the world, Ebony's eyes blearily rose from her book. She had a headache, and it was blistering. Fatigue rimmed the edges of her eyes, making a noticeable mark, and she yawned as she sat up from her perch.

Across the room, seated on a reddened chaise, the Prince was reading as well. He didn't seem to notice when Ebony stood up unsteadily, trying to remember how it was to walk. Slowly, wobbling, she drew open her blackout curtains to let in the cool moonlight.

It was then that the Prince looked up. "Nightfall so soon?" Hours and hours had passed and he hadn't noticed, too engrossed in a story of a land unlike any he'd visited before.

"Yes," Ebony replied, putting a hand to her forehead, trying to ease the pain. "Could I call in a tea service? My head aches."

"Of course," the Prince agreed, setting down his book.

Ebony walked over to a small table next to her vanity, where on top there sat a petite bell. She rang it twice, and a dainty, tinkling sound emerged. Not a moment later a maid opened her door, curtsying politely.

"Greetings, your Highness. How may I be of service?" The maid looked up from her curtsy and noticed the Prince–hair disheveled, collar slightly undone, and her eyes widened for a moment but then returned to normal.

"Hello, Hildegarde," Ebony addressed her, putting on a faux smile. "Could you fetch us a tea service?"

"Of course, your Majesty," Hildegarde curtsied again and then hurried out. Not a moment later, hurried whispers could be heard out in the corridor.

Ebony rolled her eyes. "They're going to start gossiping, you know."

The Prince shrugged. "I'll let them. Better to have them explain our arrangement how they see it than for us to do it ourselves, eh? I doubt your reputation will take much more of a hit, if that's what you're wondering."

He had a point. "I see," she responded lightly. "I simply wonder how my sister will take it."

He nodded, knowing not what to say. "I... take it that you and she have reunited."

"Indeed, we have," Ebony affirmed, taking a seat on a couch across from his chaise. "Although our most recent encounter was quite curious. At first she had been unwilling to speak with me–for weeks she would avoid me, and then all of a sudden she joins me for the first meal and not only apologizes and allows me to speak with her, but revokes my exile! I suspect your mother had quite a bit to do with this."

"It is likely," he agreed, "but she is not quite my mother. I assume you're familiar with the old tales, as impossible as it seems, I am–or was–a part of her."

"Oh, then forgive me," Ebony apologized hurriedly. "It just seems, well–strange."

"Strange?" the Prince smirked, a smile playing upon his lips.

She looked away, blushing a bit. "Oh, you know, how you were once her eye."

He chuckled. "I must confess, I find it a bit strange myself. But I have some of her memories–I saw what she saw before she became, well, corrupted. Before I became myself." He leaned in, whispering as he told her one of the Goddess's most closely-guarded secrets as if it were nothing. "Did you know the Goddess was once human?"

She gasped, the knowledge suddenly filling her mind with impossible theorie and explanations. "What? Truly?"

His grin was silver and timeless. "Yes," he asserted–impossibly calm. "And we had been in her mind."

A memory Ebony had never before experienced fluttered into her mind–a memory of a different time, a different world none could dream of. As she dared to dream of life before, the tea service wheeled into the room, followed by two maids this time. They curtsied, and then poured Ebony and the prince each an intricately painted red teacup. They curtied again, then left the room, whispering excitedly to each other.

Ebony raised her cup to her lips and tasted the tea. It had been her favorite blend since she was a little girl, but after not tasting it for nearly a year it felt wrong, like false promises and a life full of ignorance. She set down the cup and tried not to wince, smiling as the Prince drank from his cup. Whether he liked it or not he gave no indication.

Her headache soon left her as she took a couple more reluctant sips. Feeling gratified, she rose and set back down her cup. "Would you care to promenade with me?"

They went for a midnight stroll in the palace gardens, all the nocturnal flowers opening up and budding with the light of the moon. The Prince had offered her his arm, and she had taken it eagerly but gingerly as they walked through the true source of Absinthe's beauty.

Unfortunately, many other courtiers shared her idea that night. With each turn they made and each area they walked through, more gossip-seeking aristocrats followed. She could hear them a few yards back, loudly whispering to each other– "Look! There's Princess Ebony and her paramour! What a handsome couple they make–but who is her lover?"

Ebony could tell the Prince heard them talking–for he would occasionally openly send her flirty smiles and glances. But then he took her to an ornate gazebo, lavish with gold-and-red paintings and entwined with flowers of all shapes, colors, and sizes and in the middle of the garden for everyone to watch.

"What are you doing?" She asked him, flustered and a little confused.

"Giving the onlookers a little something to talk about," he responded, taking one of her gloved hands and carefully, slowly pulling off the glove.

She blushed bright red when she realized what he was about to do. "My Prince–"

"Shh," he silenced her, and then kissed her bare knuckles.

She nearly swooned. The brush of his lips against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and her arms prickled with goosebumps even though it was quite warm out. His lips were soft, and cool, and she would've taken it as a most affectionate gesture had it not been entirely for show. A brouhaha of excitement and murmuring erupted as he slid her glove back on her hand. She could not speak at all, too flustered to say a word.

He led her back through the garden, escorting her back into her room and following her in. Color remained on her cheeks. "That was... eventful."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I had hoped you would like it."

"I–" she was lost for words again.

"I supposed any woman would appreciate such a gesture," he clarified, a hint of unsureness in his tone.

"I-I did. You nearly had other women swooning with such an act," she replied. And me.

The tension between them remained. Ebony was about to say something, she wasn't quite sure what, but then a dignified knock sounded on the door. "Your Highness, a letter from Her Majesty."

She opened the door and received the envelope, decorated with the royal seal, from a servant dressed in proper clothing. "Thank you."

She shut the door and tore open the letter in earnest.

Dear Ebony and Guest, it began.

You are cordially invited to a banquet tonight for the final meal. Her Majesty plans to make an announcement to all invited courtiers and consorts.

It wasn't signed, but Ebony didn't care–the seal spoke enough. "My prince, it seems we have a social event to attend."

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I wrote this chapter the day after I wrote the previous chapter, believe it or not. I've been writing in jumps lately, and I actually kind of like that process - although inconsistent, it helps me feel better about writing and also helps me sort of visualize and plan out the chapters before writing them. 

Apologies if the writing quality seems a little off as well- I keep having to reteach myself how to write and how to write this story specifically.

Thanks for being there.

Word Count: 1272 words