Thy Secrets Should Be Sung

Chapter Eighteen: Happily Ever After

 The Knight felt sick; his stomach quaked, his head swam—he blinked and blinked again but could not clear his eyes. He leaned against the trunk of a naked tree and waited. His mind was a war, filled with seemingly innumerable thoughts and feelings, all conflicting.

His eye twitched towards the garden gate. Today he'd left it open, just half an inch, a sliver, a fraction of a degree, but still—unlocked.

"This will call her attention," he whispered, "for nothing is beneath her notice." His words were swallowed by the wind.

He waited for hours, lurking in the darkness of the woods. Shadows retreated, inch by inch until they disappeared entirely. The wind whistled through the forest and through the gaps in his armor. Clouds gathered. He hid, still as a statue, and all the while his wild heart beat, and all his body struggled against itself.

The cold pressed in. His ears rang, his lungs burned. He blinked, and there she was.

The Princess was stooped over, gathering up flowers into a bouquet. The rhododendrons, the cherries, the lilacs—they all rained their petals down upon her as she made her way along the garden path.

A starling darted past her. She looked up and saw that the gate was ajar.

The Knight's breath caught in his throat. "Today at last I shall find the truth of things."

The Princess drifted over to the lock and ran her fingers over the cold, wrought iron. She swung the gate open and closed. The old iron hinge made a quiet, pleasant squeak that reminded her of a frighten mouse.

She looked out to the forest beyond, to the bare trees and the barren woods. To the gray and the cold. All was still. She turned and considered the blooming garden, alive with the thousand scents and songs of spring, an endless bouquet of color and life. Something stirred within her. She smiled.

"Will she run?" the Knight wondered. "Will I give chase?" He trembled, his tongue cut him, his throat ached.

The Princess placed a hand on her heart, and pushed against the metal bars, and shut the garden gate. She gave the forest one last backwards glance, then disappeared back again into the thick of spring.

This was all he'd ever hoped for. "She stays!" he choked. "She loves me!"

He threw open the gate and lumbered after her, his head ringing. He stomped past the rhododendrons and up the stone path and through the wildflowers and the hyacinth and the hemlock. One thought alone consumed him.

She was in the meadow by the silver spring, listening to the clear water as it spilled out into the pond, splashing over stone and brick before gurgling down to the rest of the garden. She sat, her eyes closed, her breast swelling with every breath, and with her thumb and forefinger she counted the beads on her necklace.

The Knight announced his presence with a boast. "Today, my Princess, I have discovered a secret you would keep hidden."

The Princess frowned, wrinkled her nose, and continued to sit. "I keep no secrets," she said with a wave of her hand. "You know this. I herald truth; I am truth."

He loomed over her. "You speak of truth, my Princess, but I know what your little heart conceals. I have asked you once, I have ask you many times. This shall be the final time—lie with me now, and speak my name in ecstasy."

"And if I refuse?"

"You will not."

Her eyes flickered open. "Of course." She rose and dusted the pleats of her dress. "I cannot stop you—after all, you are a Dark Knight, and I am but a weak little Princess, and we both have our roles to play."