Steel Rose

Chapter 20

Belle Pov

   Mother insists that I get rid of my gown. Although the gown is beautiful, I raise no objection. And she is suddenly glad that she didn't attend the occasion. The entire family crowds in the main room, watching the screen about the Sunshine Shooting. The entire room is silent, and Christian stays close to me. 

   I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to focus, trying to listen to the lady on the screen. Get her to safety. I worry so much I can't really can't keep still. I play with my fingers, gripping them, releasing. I take a few deep breath trying to calm and still my body. Nothing seems to help, and I nearly resort to pacing or biting my nails. 

   It could have been hours, I don't know but I managed down a soothing cup of tea and to be alone for a few minutes when there is  a knock on my door. "Come in," I call as the door pushes open. I look up and gasp in relief. Ptolemus stands in the doorway, long gone is ruined armor, but he still looks slightly disheveled. He smiles at me, faintly timid. 

   "Hey," he says.

   I scoff at him before rushing into his arms. They wrap around me, large and strong, and warm. "What happened?" I ask him pulling away, but he keeps me close still. We are nearly chest to chest. 

   "Three dead in the shooting," he sighs his hands reaching up to touch my face, his eyes distant yet scanning my features. His fingers move, taking a piece of my hair wrapping it around his index finger and rubbing it between his thumb, the action so heart thumping tender. "Silly Red Guard, or whatever they call themselves. Murderers are terrorists are what they are."

   I touch his hand, "Are you okay?" 

   He buries his hand fully into my hair, gripping the strands, pulling me closer to him. My breath catches in my throat, as I look into those midnight eyes reaching out to grasp mine. They shimmer benevolently, as he smirks at me. "You saved my life,"

   I feel my face twist and a laugh erupts from me, "What?" I scoff, "You saved mine. You got me out of there. Remember." 

   He shakes his head his eyes dropping, "I'll never forget." he pulls away letting cool air come between us and I want to close that gap again. "When you took the hit, you slowed down the bullet enough so the shot wasn't fatal for me." 

   Oh. I smile up at him feeling bashful and another blush forming on my cheeks, "Really? I had no idea." 

   He nods, "You underestimate yourself, Belle." 

   "Luck I have you to remind me not to, right." I smile.

   He smiles again tiredly before his eyes fade into  intense and somber, "I just wish you didn't have to take the hit at all." He looks at me his brow furrowed with the memory, "So much blood, yours, mine. And the look in your eyes, the tears, I uh-," he clears his throat shifting awkwardly, "it nearly crushed me. And I got so angry," his fist clench, his teeth grind, and I hear my metal headboard groan and cave under his ability. 

   I step forward, wrapping my arms around his torso, pressing my hands into his back, and placing my ear over his heart, hearing the soothing thump. I feel his chest rise and fall as out breathing match with each other. "Don't get so upset about something you can't change, Samos." I whisper to him. "The shooting, is over. We're both here, alive and breathing." I look up at him, "we're together now okay." 

   His shoulders drop, and the muscles in his back I feel relax, "Okay." His arms wrap around me once more. We stay that way for a while, breathing quietly, his fingers running through my hair. 

   "Can you stay?" I ask my voice muffled by his shirt.

   "I can't," he sighs resting his head on the top of my head. "I shouldn't have even stayed this long, my father wants me back at the residence. Everyone is on edge."

   I pout into his chest, feeling selfish, wanting to keep him here for myself. Instead I back up out of his grip. "I suppose you should be going," 

   He presses his mouth into a line. "I'll try and see if I can sneak away to see you tomorrow. I'm not sure when though."

   I nod, "Okay," 

   I follow him out my room and he opens the front door, stepping out. He turns back to me for a moment, gripping both of his hands in front of him. "I'm really glad you're okay, Isabelle."

   I smirk leaning against the door frame crossing my arms over my chest, "I'm happy you're alright." I repeat and for a few heartbeats we stare at each other. "Goodnight Samos."

   "Night," he steps back a few steps before I close the door behind him. I lean against it, feeling a sudden wave of drowsiness. I press my fingers over my eyes until I see stars.

   "You two argue?" Christian asks walking past me on his way to his room. 

   I shake my head following him back to my own room. "No," I breath, "Just a long day."

   Christian grumbles in agreement before disappearing into his own room, the lock clicking softly behind him. I close my door, shutting off my light and trudge my way over to my bed in the still darkness. I push back the covers letting my hands guide me, tucking myself deep under the cotton. I lay in the dark for a while, letting my eyes adjust. I look up at my headboard, and in the night I can see the dent Ptolemus made. Its not big, but its noticeable. I trace the designs, once crafted to perfection, now to be considered ugly and disfigured. I have no such thought. 

   My mind stays empty, as I roll over facing the widow. The curtains look ghostly, as the moon illuminates my room, its light cascading onto the carpet. There are no stars tonight, just the dark blue background. My ears tune, listening for any sound outside my door, any creak or rumble. A shuffle of feet. A whisper of a voice. Nothing. So I listen to the silence. And sooner or later, the silence rocks me into a slumber. 

   

The next early morning....

   My head pounds with a forming headache, as I watch the maids flutter about, covering furniture with white sheets, and pack up clothes. It feels earlier then it is, as I continue to observe the organized chaos pour out in front of me. I sit beside mother as she grips my hand, her skin warm and sticky. Her breath trembles, and I can tell she didn't sleep well last night. And I can only dare to hope it was due to her worry over the Parting Ball incident. 

   Fleeing. The word itself stamps into my head, as I watch Christian take a comb from one of the already neatly pack suitcases. He shuts it himself, running it through his hair as he makes his way towards the rest of us. From Reds. "The attack really has the royals on their toes," he mumbles.

   "Yes," Mother sighs, "We all should be too," 

   "I doubt it they'll strike again so quickly." Kane added, walking into the room. "The palace will be locked and barred. And our journey to Archeon will be monitored."

   I nearly groan. I don't mind flying, in fact I find it exciting, unlike so many. But the thought of moving from this spot, makes me physically and mentally tired. The royals, will keep to tradition and travel by boat to Archeon, no doubt their journey will bring them to the city by nightfall. 

   "Time to go," Father says pushing his hair over his shoulder. The rest of my brothers all file out of their empty room, my cousins, uncles, and aunts. I sigh to myself as I file in line with the others, right behind Quinton, preparing for the long day.