Cicatrice

Chapter VI

PRINCESS ESTELLE BELSHAW

We start in the garden, as father's orders state. The wind feels crisp against my skin as it brushes past me. I look up at Eddie, who is only a few inches taller than me. We walk around in silence, both of us unsure of what to say or bring up first.

After travelling along the stone and brick pavements, we stopped at the red rose bushes. They were slowly starting to wilt away as winter was approaching, but they still held the tiniest bit of pigment. They brought back imagined memories of mother watering them.

Nurturing them.

"My mother used to grow these roses in this very garden, Marguerite told me," I speak suddenly, catching Eddie off guard from afar. The cold brings out the colour in his cheeks as he smiles softly. "It sounds like your mother had some excellent taste, your highness," he talks smoothly, moving toward me.

Not once I had touched one of these roses. Marguerite had always picked them in the springtime to put in the vase in the dining room, but other than that, they were never bothered. They had no sense of purpose other than to be sitting pretty; grand.

Out of curiosity, I go to pluck one of the roses with my bare hands, only to be greeted by a sharp, painful thorn. "Ow!" I screech. As I dropped the red rose, I noticed crimson red blood dripping from my index finger.

Imbecile.

Eddie rushes over to me while looking worried. He holds my wrist and looks at the blood, "Your highness, what has happened?" his voice is shaken. "So this is why I am never allowed in the garden," I chuckle humourlessly, but Eddie remains shaken as he wraps his hanky around my finger, down on one knee.

Before I know it, tears start to well up in my eyes and I begin to cry with no apparent cause. As if I could make even more of a fool of myself. A sob escapes my lips and Eddie looks up at me with concern in his gorgeous orbs. "I'm sorry, your highness, have I hurt you?" He asks, getting up from the ground as I shake my head profusely.

"F-father can't know about this – he'll lose it! I must look perfect for my coronation!" I panic, beginning to hyperventilate. I start to feel my heart palpitating and my mouth running dry as tears roll down my cheeks.

Eddie gives my hand a tight squeeze. "Hey there. You shouldn't worry, Your Highness. Please take a deep breath, I beg you," He reiterates in a soothing tone. His voice was like a painkiller. I practically feel his breath on my face as our faces remain only centimetres apart.

His hand stays close to mine while I begin to calm down, my breath is steadying. "I really am a mess. Eddie, I should be the one to apologise," my voice quivers as I sniffle. I felt pathetic. Only I would stoop so low to allow myself to cry in front of a stranger, but Eddie made it so easy.

The creases of his mouth turn. "Perhaps you could walk me around the lake?" he suggests, and I oblige.

We stroll alongside each other in silence as we pretend the mishap a few moments ago never happened. Eddie's calmness somehow radiated onto me. I watch him as he strolls with his hands in either of his pockets, his eyes squinted as we faced the sun. It was shaping up to be the perfect day, with not a cloud in the sky, white swans gliding across the lake, and dark orange leaves descending from the trees.

"Eddie, what's your story?" I enquire, disturbing the quiet. I see him as his expression falls, clearly not anticipating that I would ask about him. When he doesn't say anything straight away, I assume the worst. "Oh, my apologies for being so nosey. You shouldn't be compelled to tell me anything," I blurt, shaking my head as I feel my face burning up.

"No! No, your highness, please do not apologise - m-me? I was eager to provide for myself, just like any other poor man in England, you know?" he stutters, his face turning a bright shade of red as he pursed his lips.

There were people like me who were born into royalty, complaining about having to become queen or marrying someone they weren't too fond of, and then there were people born into poverty who have to serve these royals just to survive and don't voice a single complaint. It made me feel spoilt. Sad.

"You must have felt sad to leave England, it's a lovely place," I remark, but Eddie shakes his head. "Not particularly. It was nice for a change of scenery. The walls were starting to close in in England, I needed to get away, even if it were for a while," he smiled softly.

I could understand that

I notice a tiny creature perched on a white wilting lilac, making me grin. "Would you look at that? A small little bumblebee!" I exclaim in excitement, pointing to the flower that was growing weeds just a few inches in front of me.

"A bee? Where?" Eddie stumbles back and gasps before splashing into the lake and frightening the swans, the sudden action catches me off guard. "Eddie!" I scream, my hands slapping onto my face in utter shock, anticipating him to pop back up from underneath the water, although I wasn't sure servants were taught how to swim.

A startled Eddie emerges from the water, looking almost like a golden retriever with his dirty blonde wet hair. He rubs the water from his face before I catch his attention.

I can't help but giggle. Not once have I met a man who has succumbed to a harmless little bee. As I laugh, Eddie's eyebrows arch in perplexity. "What's so funny?" he questions, water dripping from every inch of his face as he still remains in the water.

Failing to say anything, my hands meet my knees as my laughing hardens. Laughing felt fantastic. Freeing. I don't remember the last time I had genuinely laughed until my stomach hurt.

Eddie emerged from the water on a crawl, perhaps realising his silliness in flipping out over an insect. He begins laughing along with me, his clothes dripping wet from head to toe. I wasn't sure how I'd explain this to father, but I couldn't even think of that in the moment.

I was happy.