Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 40

No one stopped us as we walked from the palace.

After we left the throne room, Sabine put her jacket around my shoulders. Silence pervaded us, but I wasn't sure how to break it.

Our horses were led to us at the gate, the carriage as well. The servants that had travelled with me Garnette waited with them. Some were bruised and bloody, evidence of how much my actions had affected all those around me.

The group of soldiers that followed was smaller than the group I had brought. A few had spoken up, refusing to comply when I was first imprisoned, and some more had not made it through the battle outside the throne room. Each one of their deaths now rested on my shoulders. What would I say to their families? "My apologies, they died because I slept with the wrong prince."

This was all my fault.

I was ushered into a carriage, nothing but my thoughts and the incessant Angels to keep me company as we started our journey out from the palace and through Roche. Night still hung heavy overhead, cold Garnetti air biting through to leave a chill that settled in my bones.

As we moved through the city, it was silent, almost deserted. Had news already reached them of the king's death? What would become of them now that Pierre ruled?

Where was Jourdon?Wwhere would he go?

Invisible eyes peered at us as we went. The only sign of life was a tavern, its lights dim and flickering as we passed, a man outside stumbling up from the curb to piss onto the street. His obscenities echoed through the street and followed us through the shadowy night. We fled like cowardly hounds with our tails between our legs.

I let the curtain fall forward over the window. Darkness enveloped me like a comforting blanket as I tilted me head against the carriage wall.

Hours must have passed. My head was throbbing again, the sensation of ghostly fingers scratching over my arms. I was too tired to resist, letting the voices lull through me. Eventually cloudy grey light peeked in through the edges of the curtain, and the ground grew bumpier under the carriage's wheels. We stopped for a moment.

The checkpoint through the pass.

After a few breaths, we started moving again. No resistance. No fight. Pierre's command to let us  go freely had already reached the borders.

Why? My stomach sunk with dread. I knew why, and I didn't, not allowing my heart to catch up with all the clues that had been following me ever since I had left that prison.

We continued on further. The light stayed grey outside the window. Something cut through it, breaking me away from the steady flow of whispers as smoke seeped into the carriage. We stopped, and the door opened. Darren's face was grim.

"Your Highness...." His voice was tight, his eyes down cast. "You...you should see for yourself."

Hesitantly, I stepped outside the carriage. I numbly took in the sight around me. We were in the middle of one of our border towns, Élyme if I recalled correctly. Not that it looked anything close to what it had looked like last time I had seen it. Smoke hung in the air; ash cloaked the ground. Houses were burned, the smoke intermingling with the charred scent of burnt flesh and decay.

I moved out of the carriage slowly. A sheen of ash cloaked my slippers. Darren stood still as stone beside me as we took in the ruined town.

A breeze caught a loose strand of my hair, whiping it around my face. "They have already come."

He looked at me, gaze searching, brow furrowing when he found nothing. I knew I should feel horrified. I knew I should feel loss and sadness. So many innocent people were dead.

Would they be dead if Mother and I had our magic? Would any of this have happened?

Darren's voice grew stiff when I made no response. "Permission to search the remains for any survivors?"

I stood there for a moment. Searching the town for survivors was the right thing to do. Whatever happened here had not been long ago. There was a chance there were still people in these houses, clinging to life, perhaps stuck and injured.

But doing so would take time. Perhaps a day.

I turned from him. "No. We must continue."

Darren paused before replying, "Understood, Your Highness."

I stepped into the carriage, numb. I sensed Darren's eyes following me. I didn't bother looking for Sabine. I knew she was out there, watching, listening. But she had not joined me in the carriage. She had not spoken a word to me since she walked into that throne room and found me smeared with blood and Pierre's traitorous kisses.

I settled in my seat. Cold, alone. Smoke filled the air around me. I could almost hear the distant cries of those in the city. More people I had failed. Those I had been too powerless to save. Ones I still could not save. If I was heartless, it was because somewhere, deep in that dungeon, it had been torn out and left to decay.

My fault.

The carriage moved and we continued. The Angel's settled in with their whispers, and I let them wrap around me, as if they could somehow create a barrier that separated me from the outside world.

Élyme was not the last city we saw burned. We moved down the path of destruction on our way to Rosailles, passing through the remains of a war we were two steps behind. The ash and death started to blur together until all I saw was grey, all I tasted was smoke, and all felt was numbness. And still, it continued.

We did not stop again.