RavenGuard

Part 12

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The funeral rites were carried out over the following six days. I never understood the supposed six stages of grief, the traditional ceremonial days in which the family of the dead received gifts and condolences from their friends and enemies alike. Something like a pity payment. There were official ceremonies, most of which were the same.

For the first three days, the blooded family members were allowed no contact with anyone but their handmaids and servants. Slowly, the rest of the court was allowed in to the crypt. I was given my official invitation on the fourth day, the day supposedly dedicated to the close friends of the deceased. It was strange for me, to be called a close friend of a man I had only spent a few short hours with.

The crypt was located under the Great Hall. Eon led me down a series of staircases, most of which were shallow and awkward to move down. He lectured me about how to bow to the Royal family, not to speak until the ceremony was over, and other formalities. Two guards heaved open the heavy stone doors and we entered the room of the dead.

The long hallway wasn't dim, but it wasn't bright either. We passed stone statues of men and women, and even some children, which were made in the likeness of each of the inhabitants. There must have been dozens of figures, and the thought of their remains lying under the floor we were stomping over made me shiver. Finally we came up to the Royal family, who were standing in front of the first empty alcove. All of them were wearing dull greys, as was the custom. Princess Cecily had puffy eyes, even four days after his death. Prince Bastien couldn't sit still, and kept leaning from side to side and playing with the hilt of his sword, which he still kept strapped to his hip. The only one in the room who seemed to have their composure was the Queen. She stood tall, her mouth set in a grim line.

As I approached, I bowed as I had practiced with Eon, cradling the small box I held to my chest. The Queen bowed back in the same manner, as did the prince and the princess. I handed the Queen the box, which she accepted gracefully. I bowed again to each of them and she placed the small wooden trinket inside the alcove, next to a portrait of the Advisor. I was the last one to perform the ceremony, so there was already a pile of flowers, gold, gems, and other luxuries inside his tomb.

We all walked out together in silence, even though the ceremony was over. Cecily held her mother's hand as we began the long haul up the steps towards the Great Hall. Bastien had a firm grip on his blade, and the muscles in his jaw were clenched tight. I put my hand on his, and he stopped walking. His brown eyes softened from a hard fiery stare to something that may have been grief, or even regret. Everyone else kept on, but he and I stayed put.

"What are you doing?" He asked quietly.

"I'm trying to help." I replied, just as quietly. Even though his plain gray tunic wasn't threaded with gold, or set with jewels, he still looked as regal as ever. I hadn't heard him speak since the night his father died, which wasn't particularly abnormal. But still, I could tell he felt something horrible, and that didn't sit right with me.

"And how exactly is this helping?" He slowly worked his fingers under mine, removing them from the back of his gloved palm.

"I don't know. But I can tell you're hurt. And no one should keep that to themself." He didn't let go of my hand, and I didn't dare to move it. We both just looked at my fingers resting gently on top of his for a moment, not daring even a glance at the other's face.

"I am fine." He let go of my hand, but I wouldn't let go of his.

"I know pain when I see it." I looked up to find him already examining me. "Did you go see your father before he died?"

"No." He turned away, but I whirled back around to his face.

"Does it bother you that you never got the chance to speak to him again?"

"No." He turned away again, and this time I didn't follow.

"Then what is it?"

"It's none of your damn business..." He began to raise his voice, and the tone became agitated. I was beginning to find shaky ground, which meant I was getting closer to the heart of the matter.

"Can't you see I'm trying to help you?" As his voice got louder, so did mine. I began to feel angry, and I knew it wouldn't end well for either of us, but continued anyhow.

"I don't need any help from a peasant like you!" He screamed, barging up the stairs. I could see a glimmer on his cheek as he passed the last torch and out of my sight.

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Just as I had finished eating my dinner, there came a knock on my door. Elise opened it a crack, peering out at who it might be. She gasped sharply and swung herself around.

"The prince for you, My Lady..." She looked as if she were about to faint.

"Elise, could you leave us alone for a little while." She bowed and left quickly, eyeing me suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. I slowly opened the door, unsure of what to expect. There he stood, his ceremonial tunic ripped, his hair sticking out in every direction you could imagine, and red, puffy eyes to match. Just as he was about to speak, I cut him off.

"You can skip 'I'm sorry' and 'I didn't mean it.' I know." I stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. He nodded, keeping his head low.

"I half expected you to try to stab me to death." He said, mustering a weak smile.

"And you're lucky I didn't. But I guess you're in enough pain when you have a voice that sounds like you've been guzzling hot coals." I closed my door and sat back down on my sofa. He didn't follow, just stood by the door with a slump in his shoulders; something I never expected from him.

"Look, I guess I didn't realize how bad I was feeling until this afternoon. I just wanted to thank you." He walked over and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, sort of shoved in the corner.

"Not to mention how ridiculous you've been acting." I chimed in. He chuckled softly and nodded.

"I suppose that too." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have never had anyone care about me. Except my father, I suppose. And now that he is gone, I feel like I'm just a pawn in someone's game."

"I'll give you a bit of advice; you've always been a piece for the higher class to move around to fit their agenda." I chanced a sideways smirk, to which he just laughed.

"I have always known it, in my heart. But I was never able to admit it to myself."

We talked on and on, making fun of the upper class and how ridiculous they were at times. The laughing went on for hours, but eventually he became shockingly sober.

"Cana..." He said, very seriously, placing his hand on mine. His skin was warm, closing in on the brink of being feverish. I looked him in the eyes, which, upon further inspection, were not brown, but a dark yellow, like honeycomb or sunflowers. "Can I depend on you to be honest with me, always?"

"Sure." I replied casually.

"I am being serious. I need to know you will always tell me things as they are, and not how I would like them to be."

"I think that's the one thing you can always count on me for."