Steel Rose

Chapter 30

Ptolemus Pov

She wrote back. I hadn't counted on her writing me back, but it seems like the obvious thing to do now that I hold the letters in my hands. Two, I should say. One for me, one for her brothers. When I told them about it, Christian had nearly tackled me, reaching for the letter. Despite him being smaller and younger then me, the boy could pack a punch. I left them to it, as they tore open the envelope, excitement shinning through their eyes.

I stashed mine away for later. I didn't want to be rushed, or hovered over as I read Belle's letter. A small burst of excitement, foolish excitement, stirred in my chest when I realize that Belle had touched that envelope. I laugh at myself.

Hours later I find myself at my cot in a room shared with the other men. The lights are off, and the stars dance on the dark night sky. I tuck myself under my cover, a flashlight in hand, Belle's letter in the other.

Dear Samos,

I have to tell you with you gone off, my brothers at your side, and my parents always occupied, life has become rather grey. My youngest brothers don't want anything to do with me, and Father and Mother occupy themselves with court responsibilities and each other leaving me to my non-existent occupations. Maybe this is just the way of the world of telling me I have no life. But now that I think about it, I suppose I can offer to watch Garrett, and he will undoubtedly keep me occupied.

I can't help but chuckle.

It's sad to say, but I do have to agree with you. Even though you've only been away a short while, it feels like an eternity. With every passing hour, I feel as if your face fades from my memory, but never from my thoughts. And its frustrating to think of you and only come up with less then before.

I read a lot more now, which I suppose is an upside. Most are romance. The only downside I can think of it that I envy the characters in such books, the couples who fall in love, and live happy ever after. I wonder why people write these stories, probably knowing no such events can occur. Not in this world. Maybe its a fantasy we all deny, and the authors have the privilege to write them out instead of wasting time thinking of things they'll never behold. Once, I believed that no such romances could happen. However, because of you my thoughts are altered. I can only hope they stay that way.

Me too.

I continue reading into the night, scanning every stroke of her pen. I run my fingers over the stiff paper, as I can only guess to what Belle could be doing this very moment. I read her entire letter twice, as it consists of three pages, like I had sent to her. I yawn, knowing I'll probably regret my loss of rest in the morning, yet I truly can't bring myself to care right now.

I'm about to tuck away her letter back away when my flashlight illuminates a small piece of paper left in the envelope. I pull it out, and my gut explodes with happiness I've never known. I feel a sense of release, and calmness pass over me. Not paper, a picture. Of Belle. Her hair frames her face, her eyes the main focus and a teasing smile on her lips. I turn it over and there written in her neat cursive.

To remember me always -Isabelle

As the week turn to months pass, we exchange our letters back and forth. Some take couple days to arrive, others as much as a week. I never seem to run out of things to tell her, and she never seems to mind either. Our letter vary from one page to four, to random thoughts to events we wish to share. At night, I find myself tracing the flower doddles on the the margins and my initials drawn complicatedly at the very top. With each new arrival, along she sends a letter to her brothers. And no matter how many times they get one, their excitement never ceases.