Odessa

Chapter Ten

Odessa was extremely aware of nature this morning.

In fact, she was nature. She was the wind that gently combed through her own golden hair; she was the pink blossoms and their intoxicating fragrance; she was the stone platform that she now knelt down upon. She did not feel as an individual being, a human, but as a part of every living thing around her, absorbing vital air and sunlight and embracing the world.

The cool, smooth surface of the platform cradled her folded hands and her nose nearly touched the ground. It was in this meditative state that she could almost hear her father's quiet responses to her prayers.

"Tell me what to do," she murmured, listening hard. If listening could be done with muscle, she would have used all her strength to pull the delicate strands of sound toward herself.

Before her stood two urns, one taller than the other. Etched on the face of the left urn, the taller one, was the epitaph:

Sir William, Knight of Thestria, the finest our beloved country has ever known.

And on its counterpart:

Lady Arista, wife of Sir William, brave, strong, and righteous until death.

Odessa often stared long at her poor mother's grave. Thinking of her made Odessa both thankful and sorry; Arista had toiled long and hard to give her daughter life, at the cost of her own.

Odessa's parents' bravery made her ashamed of herself. They gave up everything for me. They faced their hardships. They didn't run away. The thought of leaving Thestria, of her own cowardice, was made that much more unbearable.

When the wind brought no whisper of advice to Odessa's ears, she heaved a long sigh and opened her eyes. Perhaps father refuses to speak to me. Perhaps he is ashamed.

She stood, her hands still folded, and regarded her father's grave with remorse. "Won't you say anything to me?"

Apparently not.

She sighed, cast her eyes down to the ground, and gave up on listening. She would have to make her own choice. Can I stay here and become Roric's Queen? Can I bear to sit on a throne and look pretty for the rest of my life?

If only she could talk to Roric! If only the idiot had not proposed to her in front of a thousand people! She might have been able to talk him out of the marriage. She might not have to humiliate him in front of the world. But no--he had dug his own grave.

"Ahem. Good morning, Milady," spoke a low voice from behind Odessa. "I'm sorry to bother you."

Odessa turned and looked down upon the famed Sir Baccus. She blinked, surprised--she, like every other girl in Thestria, had once harbored an attraction toward the handsome knight. He was honorable, brave, strong, and loved the things that she loved. However, as a result of her hushed affection, she'd always been too shy to ever talk to him.

"Good morning, Sir Baccus," she said, a smile coming to her lips. It melted away at the morose look on his face. "I hope you are in good health?" she asked anxiously.

"I am quite well, thank you," Baccus responded gruffly. "But it is not my health you should be inquiring after. Our princess is deeply... distressed."

Odessa frowned, matching Baccus' distressed look. "So that's why I haven't seen her all morning. What is the matter with her?"

"She's rather sick and in the deepest of pain. She sent me to find you and wishes for you to go to her immediately."