Show them the joy and the pain and the ending
Everyone is quiet, and yet the room is filled with noise. Feet shift nervously and skirts rustle as the Selected move in impatient agitation. It is a large drawing room, but it feels far too small with the tension filling the air. Mercifully, Francis' address is quick and to the point. The relief that floods her is as unsettling as it is reassuring. She hadn't really expected to make it this far. That her feelings have so quickly become involved scares her. No, not scares, terrifies. She has never before experienced such depth or breadth of emotion, and that she is feeling them now does not bode well for her future success.
As the three take their leave, the proverbial sigh of relief from the remaining girls is almost audible. It does not take long for the chattering to begin. For her part, Heartfire does her best to avoid it. Even if she were interested in befriending any of these young women, it would be a terrible idea to do so. For more reasons than one.
--
The next several weeks pass in a haze of lessons and etiquette and protocol. While she typically enjoys learning, she is not certain it is possible to make what they are trying to teach interesting. The history might have been interesting, fascinating even, if the instructors did not have the godawful habit of glossing over some of the more entertaining (read: controversial) bits. The only bright points in those weeks were the times she was able to spend with the Prince, whether it be only a few moments or a few hours. That she found her time with him so stimulating however, adds another hidden worry to her time here.
Time passes and no more eliminations are made. The tensions between the Selected escalates, and everyone is wondering when the other shoe will drop. As it happens, the dropping of said shoe surprises even Heartfire.
--
They are attending another one of their endless lessons when a massive thud shakes one of the walls. Dust and plaster shake loose, showering the girls nearest the wall with debris as vases rattle and artwork quakes ominously. Several of the girls (Emma and Valerie, she thinks) tumble out of their seats with shrill screams while several more shout in surprise. Some leap from their chairs, some shrink down into them. Heartfire straightens, holding back her own surprised exclamation even as her heart thrums a rapid tattoo against her ribs.
Her first thought, when that tremendous crash echoes, is simply No…
While she had known they would be coming at some point, she had not thought it would be done so… noisily. Or so obviously.
Within minutes, the room has erupted into chaos. Voices are escalating to be heard over the others even as their instructor, Mrs. Lillin, urges calm. But before any semblance of order can even begin to take place, two guards burst into the room.
”Ladies!” one masculine voice booms out, drawing their attention to the speaking guard. ”You must come with us immediately!” Panic erupts before the man’s words have finished leaving his mouth.
”What is going on?” one shrill voice demands. ”We’re going to die!!” another wails. Heartfire can’t quite tell who is speaking in the mayhem, but those squeaky voices cause a sigh of exasperation to escape her lips.
To be fair, not everyone has completely lost their minds. Several of the girls are standing quietly, even if they appear somewhat afraid. One (Claire, maybe?) is standing rather more regally, slightly apart from the others and apparently doing her best to ignore them. Mrs. Lillin is desperately trying to herd girls towards the door. The guards are futilely trying to calm them while simultaneously trying the urge them from the room. With a huff, Heartfire picks up a massive book from a nearby table and holds it high. Then, without any further ado, she drops it onto the floor.
The book makes an enormous CRACK! as it lands the floor, stopping everyone dead in their tracks and drawing their eyes to her. Glaring at them, she simply explodes, ”Seriously!?! Any one of you could be Illea’s next queen. And THIS is how you react in the face of a disaster?” Her tone is laced with irritation as she glares at the crowd of women staring at her with equally dumbstruck expressions (except for the one who apparently has the audacity to scowl at her. If no one else was going to get this bloody mess organized, then she damn well would). She doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. Her question had been rather rhetorical anyway. ”Just follow the damn guards!” she says emphatically, waving one hand abruptly at the pair of men who are also staring at her in surprise.
Fortunately it does not take more than that to spur the guards, men used to following orders at the (literal) wave of a hand, into action. They waste no more time in herding the girls out the door, including her. The silence, unfortunately, does not last nearly as long as she had hoped it would.
As she steps through the door, she looks up to find Claire waiting for her, a mutinous expression on her features. The other girl falls into step beside her, though her body language is anything but friendly. ”Do you think that… display… is going to win you any points?” she demands in a hiss. Heartfire can’t help it, she bursts out in laughter.
Clapping a hand to her mouth, she shakes her head, suppressing her poorly timed mirth. She can hear Claire gritting her teeth as she does so. ”Just because your goal is to secure the crown at any cost does not mean that mine is,” Heartfire replies in a scornful tone. ”Maybe – just maybe – I’m just trying to save lives.”
As Heartfire glances at her less-than-erstwhile companion, she can see her lips compress into a thin line. ”If you’re just trying to save lives,” Claire snaps back, her tone haughty and cold, ”then I am just here looking for love. With that last retort, she stalks forward, effectively cutting off any rejoinder Heartfire might have made.
Damned if she didn’t have a point. Still, that does nothing to stop her from seething.
--
In short order, they have arrived at a safe room. The guards are ushering the girls inside when a group of rebels abruptly appear from around the corner. After a single, breathlessly eternal moment, they are being rushed by men brandishing knives and swards. Chaos erupts as the Selected rush towards the room while the guards draw their weapons to fend off the attacks. For a moment, Heartfire can’t quite tell what is happening as she is being shoved towards the open door in a rush of bodies. Suddenly someone grabs her and she is jerked backwards, her jaw clicking painfully shut with the rush of movement.
There is a whirl of motion and color as she is spun to face her attacker. A pale, square-jawed face fills her vision for a split second before she is shoved backwards into the wall. Unable to halt her momentum, she stumbles, flying backwards and cracking her skull sharply against a small table set against the tiled wall.
--
She knows nothing more until she blinks her eyes painfully open, groaning as consciousness returns to her in a wash of throbbing pain and nausea. A face once again fills her vision, the same pale, square-jawed face she had seen earlier. ”Hey pip!” he says enthusiastically. ”Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t think you’d go flying quite like that!”
Groaning, Heartfire blinks several more times as she tries to bring his face into focus. She knows that face. If only she could think… sitting up abruptly, she suddenly exclaims ”Jinx!” as she recognizes the rascally, unkempt man she had met ages ago when she had first joined up with the Resistance. She immediately regrets the action as her head pounds in protest and her stomach rolls. Doubling over, she groans again as she clutches at her aching head.
”Hey there Heartfire,” he says with concern, catching her by the arm as he lends her support. ”Take it easy. You hit yer head pretty good on that table.”
After several minutes of steadying breaths, she sits up a little more slowly. This time the world stays a little more stable. Fortunately for her (and Jinx too probably), else she might have vomited. ”What… happened?” she finally asks as her mind tries to catch up with events.
”Well,” Jinx begins. ”We came up on you guys, had a little tussle, ya fell and hit yer head, and everything kinda hit the fan from there. Guards were pissed, girlies freakin’ out, so we just kinda grabbed ya and got the hell outta there.” He pauses, grinning like the wild madcap he is. ”They chased us a bit, but I figgered they didn’t wanta leave them other whatsits too long.”
With a quick bark of laughter followed by a low groan, Heartfire gingerly shakes her head. ”You’re mad, Jinx,” she responds, amusement lacing her voice. ”You don’t think they’ll get suspicious, do you?” She sighs, lifting her head to find his merry brown eyes with a frown tugging at the corners of her pale lips. ”I don’t want to leave quite yet.”
”Oooooo!” he teases, wagging a finger in her face before continuing in a singsong voice. ”Someone likes the Priiii-iince!”
Scowling, Heartfire smacks at his hand, missing it entirely. The accusation, however, is unfortunately all too true. So she does the only thing she can think of, she changes the subject. ”What are you guys doing here anyway?”
”Well, as to that,” he says, becoming instantly more serious, ”mostly just stirring up trouble. But if we get the chance, you can bet yer bottom we’ll off the King and Queen.” Heartfire frowns at that. Once the admission wouldn’t have bothered her at all. She likely would have agreed with it. But now, it does not sit nearly so well with her, if for no other reason than it would hurt Francis.
Still, she had committed herself. There is no way she couldn’t follow through. ”The guys’ll be back lickity split. Just went scouting a bit. I didn’t want to leave ya here with that hole in yer head.” The last is said with a lopsided grin that inspires a return smile from Heartfire. Lifting her hand, she feels her head, wincing as she does so. Looking at her hand, she sees blood staining her fingers. Well, crap. That doesn’t look too good.
In minutes the others are back (two men she doesn’t recognize) and Heartfire is struggling to stand. Jinx assists her with a concerned ”You okay?” She replies with only an affirmative nod as she liberally leans on him in order to gain her feet. Once upright, she finds herself quickly steadying. Still, she wouldn’t be surprised if she has a concussion. On the bright side though, it couldn’t be a very bad one. At least she hopes not.
Jinx offers her a knife, which she gratefully takes, before she is asked (more like forcefully told) to lead the way. She knows exactly what they want. She’s just not quite sure if she wants to give it to them. Besides, it’s highly likely the King and Queen are safely tucked away by now.
Regardless, she leads them on a somewhat circuitous route through long hallways and winding galleries, pausing every few hundred yards to still her spinning head and quell her nausea. Finally they arrive at the council chambers where the King and Queen spend most of their time. Biting her lip, she takes a deep breath before indicating the door and stepping back. No doubt she’ll be long gone after this. And even if she weren’t, there is no way she would be allowed to stay. More likely she would be locked up in their deepest, darkest dungeon.
So, gone it is.
But, to her immense relief, the chamber is empty. She wonders, for just a moment, where Francis is and whether or not he is safe. She sure hopes so. The others, however, are clearly disappointed.
They don’t have time to express such sentiments though, as at that moment, a pair of guards appear from a nearby doorway. Suddenly blades are bared and everyone is waving them around like barbarians as warnings are shouted. The guards advance upon them, and Heartfire steps back instinctively, defensively clutching the borrowed knife before her.
Unexpectedly, Jinx grabs her from behind, twisting her arm back and causing her to drop her knife. She squeaks in alarm as she is drawn up against his chest. She freezes when she feels the cold press of a blade against her throat. ”Drop yer weapons,” he growls to the guards, pressing the knife tightly against her neck. ”Or I swear on my mother’s life I’ll do it.”
Heartfire can feel a trickle of blood run down her collar bones, causing her eyes to widen. Damnit Jinx, she thinks caustically. She knows he is not serious (at least, he better not be), but the threat feels real enough.
The guards pause then, glancing at each other before glancing back at them. She can see the indecision on their faces. They know she is one of the Selected, and the desire to protect her wars with their desire to apprehend these intruders. It is plain for the world to see on their faces.
Ultimately, both lower their weapons, placing them on the floor before them with clear reluctance. With a whispered ”Good luck m’dear” in her ear, Jinx shoves her forward, causing her stumble into one of the guard’s arms. The three rebels use the distraction to flee, disappearing around the corner with an astonishing swiftness.
In a trice, the guards have recollected their weapons and are escorting her to her rooms. After enquiring which is hers, they deposit her safely inside with instructions to lock the doors until someone comes to assure her that the palace has been cleared. For once, Heartfire does exactly as she is told before dropping onto the nearest chair in stunned silence.
Nearly half an hour later, another guard (or perhaps the same one) comes and knocks on her door, informing her that all is clear. He is swiftly followed by a maid, who Heartfire, in something of a daze, lets in. Only later, upon reflection, would she realize that she had most likely been in shock. Later still she would be surprised that she could go into shock over an event she had once wanted to happen.
The maid (she should know her name, but for the life of her she cannot remember it right now) tsks over her state and promptly sets about cleaning her up. Heartfire can hear her muttering under her breath, but she is barely paying attention. She needs stitches on her forehead, it would seem, though she only really comprehends what the woman has been saying when she takes a needle and thread to the gash. The sharp sting of the first stitch breaks her out of her stupor, causing her to flinch and gasp simultaneously, eliciting a reprimand from the poor, put-upon maid.
For the remaining three stitches, she sits as still as possible, gritting her teeth in order to bear the renewed pain. When, finally, the maid is done, exhaustion rapidly sets in as adrenaline wears thin. So, when the maid takes her leave, Heartfire can only nod weakly as she stares at her pale, battered reflection in the mirror across the room. Only then does it occur to her that she still has no idea where Francis is and whether he is alright, or even if he survived the attack.
As if she didn’t have enough to worry about already.
Heartfire
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts