The Princess's Servant

53. The Carriage

When the sun was high overhead, the princess exited her tower in the same dress she'd entered. She didn't need to so much as look at Sebastian to make her purpose known.

"Alright! Let's journey to Ward!" Sebastian announced on her behalf, and his men scurried to their stations.

The princess approached, and then passed, Holden. She got into some carriage that Holden had to assume had been intended for her parents, but the Wardians did not correct her. Sebastian stepped towards the prince and took a swig from his canteen. He exhaled with a loud "ahhhh" as the last of the Princess's skirt disappeared from view.

"She seems kind of put out. I don't suppose you told her about the little execution your brother has planned for her, did you?"

Holden gave Sebastian a hard look and seriously considered whether he should smack him. He had that cheerless grin on his face — the one he always wore when he was trying to get under the prince's skin. Holden took a deep breath and tried to walk past him.

Sebastian stuck an arm out and caught the prince before he could move another step forward. Holden glared at him.

Sebastian flicked his hand and from his sleeve, he drew a vial. He handed the vial to Holden, who inspected it with great uncertainty.

"The hell is this?"

"You're riding with Sybil, aren't you?"

"Am I?" Holden retorted.

Sebastian dropped his grin. "It's to give to her if she starts to freak out on you. Just a couple drops. It'll help her relax."

"'Relax?'"

The servant gave the prince a strange look as he headed for the cart. Holden looked at the vial in his hands. It was a plain vial of brown glass with a little cork top — a humble vial entirely without marking or distinction.

Holden furrowed his brow and pocketed the glass. He made his way over to the cart.

He could ride one of the horses to Ward. He could make his way on foot. Hell, he could commandeer one of their steeds and make off to the summer lands that Garg had been talking up and sit this whole nightmare out. He didn't want to deal with his brother. Or Sybil. Or a trial. Or a wedding. He wanted to be free from this entire situation. He wanted to be where he had been, just one week back — happily ignorant and ignorantly happy to watch clouds from the tree tops and dream of his bride. He wanted to go back to those days where he could string those love poems to the Princess of Lailoy and mean them. He wanted to be free of everything he'd learned.

But...

Holden spied the corner hem of Sybil's skirt as she sat waiting in the carriage. He didn't bother sighing. He hated the choices he made. The things he did for the people he despised. She didn't deserve his kindness. She deserved his wrath. But, Holden supposed, she'd receive that in due time. She'd receive that and more.

Holden approached the carriage and climbed inside of it. Sybil looked surprised to see that he had joined her, but she tried to stifle her expression. Holden tried to pretend he hadn't seen it as the servants closed the carriage door.

It was silent and still inside as men outside shouted commands to each other. Sybil watched out the window to her left and said nothing as she awaited departure. Holden thought of saying something to break the silence, but he couldn't think what. He took in breath to speak once, but changed his mind and exhaled.

After what felt like an eternity, someone shouted "Let's go!" and the prince and princess felt the tug of inertia. The carriage bumped along the courtyard cobblestone and out the castle gates.

Holden felt the little vial in his pocket. Sebastian had told him to use it on Sybil, but he wondered if he couldn't use it on himself. He sighed quietly and looked out the window to his left and watched as Lailoy passed him by. He wondered if it would be the last time he would see it. He wondered if it would be the last time she would see it.

"I'm sorry."

Holden felt a jolt of surprise. He hadn't meant to say those words — and he was almost certain he didn't mean them. But they'd slipped out his mouth and he wasn't sure how to get them back. If he could get them back. He lowered his head and tried to act inconspicuous.

Sybil was quiet. Perhaps she hadn't heard him, he thought. That was a nice thought. Or perhaps she had heard him, but had decided to act as though she hadn't. That was good too. Holden was content to stare in silence out of the carriage window for the next day and a half without further remark. But unfortunately for him, his wish was not to come true.

"You didn't arrange my marriage. You have nothing to apologize for."

That was... partway true, Holden supposed. Technically, he had encouraged the match as a young child, but that wasn't the same as drafting the agreement. Holden drifted his gaze back towards the window and wondered if they might ease back into silent awkwardness for the rest of the trip. But Sybil didn't allow it.

"Your prince..." she began, and Holden already didn't like where this was going. "Does he care for you?"

The prince took in breath. "What does it matter?" He asked. "It's like you showed me with the letters— he loves you above all else. Who is a servant to him compared to his beloved bride?"

For some reason, instead of lightening at this response, Sybil turned darker. Holden furrowed his brow at this a bit, but did not press. He returned to his window and watched as town turned into field.

"He does not love me, Wardian. Not anymore."

These words surprised Holden, more than his own. "What do you mean?" He asked. "Why would you think that?"

But Sybil said nothing, leaving Holden greatly disturbed, and gripping the vial in his pocket just a little bit tighter.

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE/ FOR READING. LOVE Y'ALL ❤️❤️