Chapter 18 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ZADE
'The princess has been acting weird lately.'
The rumors spread through the palace like a goddman palace. It had only been a week since I'd left King Theron's Kingdom, but the urge to return to Rosalinda had gnawed at me with a dreadful persistence. It was more than longing: it was a deep unsettling intuition that something was wrong. So I came back, unannounced, just to see her, to make sure.
I brought only Cyrus and few other guards. There wasn't any need for a grand entrance, no fanfare. Just a quiet return before I go back. Elina, Rosalinda's personal maid met me in the antechamber, curtsying deeply. "Prince Zade, welcome back. The princess will be with you shortly."
"Oh, sure thanks..no problem." I replied, offering a small reassuring smile.. It was hard to tell if something was actually wrong. Elina always seemed to be perpetually on edge, even when everything was supposedly calm.
She bowed again, turning to leave, but I called out, my curiosity overriding my senses.
She spun around, her eyes wide. "Yes, Sire?"
"Something about the princess acting different. May I ask what that rumor is about?"
Her eyes widened slightly more for a bare instant, like a flash of geninue alarm, before snapping back to her practiced neutrality. "Just the maids trying to stir up gossips, sire. I'll tend to it. Please pay no attention."
"Sure." I let it go, for now. She bowed again and left, her brisk exit telling more than evasive words. Deep down, I knew it wasn't just a rumor. Not when it coincided with reports that Rosalinda was taking lessons
She hated lessons.
She preferred archery, strategizing with generals.
So why the sudden transformation?
It's only been two hours since I arrived, but still- it was more than enough to let me know that something was wrong.
But what was it?
My thoughts were cut short when I saw her walking towards me, her maids trailing behind like shadows. She had a praticised smiled on her lips, a perfect, porcelain mask, but I could see right through her fake façade.
Something was definitely wrong.
"Prince Zade," she offered a slight bow, then looked up. She looked like a ghost of her old feisty self.
I laughed, trying to project an air of causal warmth, pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, a brief, rigid resistance that chilled me to the bone, then she returned the embrace, exhaling a soft, almost imperceptible sigh against my shoulder. The tension in her felt like a physical weight against me.
"I've missed you," I murmured.
"Me too," she murmured back, her voice lacking it's usual vibrant cadance. She pulled away, her movements swift. "Shall we head for tea?"
My gut twisted but I pushed it down. "Hmhm, sure."
This wasn't the Rosalinda I knew. This was a guarded, brittle version of a woman barely holding herself together.
\-
They sure weren't lying.
Rosalinda was weird.
Extremely weird, and it made me worry. Every 'Are you okay?' Or 'Is something wrong? You can talk to me, you know?' was met with the same hollow reply. 'I'm fine, Zade. Just tired.'
That was a lie. A poorly constructed flimsy fucking lie. This wasn't mere tiredness, this was a profound sorrow, a deep-seated anguish that shadowed her eyes and weighed down her every gesture.
I sighed and leaned against the thick truck of an oak tree in the secluded royal gardens. The afternoon sun dappled through the leaves, but I barely noticed. I pulled out a small, silver-cased pipe, a habit I'd picked up from my father, and lit it, inhaling the sweet, spiced scent of the dried herbs. The smoke curled around me, a fleeting comfort. I was halfway through emptying the bowl when a shadow fell across the sun-drenched path. I looked up, instantly recognizing the stoic figure.
"Valerius," I said, my voice flat. The pipe was still warm in my hand, but I extinguished it.
"Hello, Zade," he returned, his tone gruff, like the grinding of stones. His eyes usually so sharp seemed distant, preoccupied. "I didn't expect you to come back so early,"
"I didn't expect to see you here either," I retorted. "Why are you still here?"
He shrugged, his shoulders rippling under his tunic. He looked up at the sky, then down at the path, as if searching for answers in the heaven or the dirt. "I can't explain that to you."
"Why? Another plan to ruin them once more?"
I'd seen his father's work, things he had done to everyone. I trusted nothing from their bloodline.
He snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with an unexpected fire. For a moment, I through he'd cross the line, but he didn't, his expression relaxed into a composed mask. "I'm not like my father." The words were delivered with a quiet intensity I almost believed. Almost.
"Of course." I replied flatly.
He nodded and turned. Just as he took two steps, I called out, compelled by Rosalinda's sudden change of behaviour.
"Valerius?"
He stopped but didn't immediately turn. "Yes?" He asked without looking over his shoulder.
"What happened to Rosalinda? When I left, she wasn't like this and everyone acts like it's normal, meanwhile it's not."
He slowly turned, his face unreadable for a moment, then a fleeting shadow crossed his features- a flicker of something that looked like immense regret. "Nothing,"
"That's a lie,"
"Yeah," he nodded. "You're right. But it doesn't concern,"
"She's my wife to be and-"
"Then," he cuts in, his voice hardening. "You ask her yourself."
Just as my lips parted abiut to retort, Rosalinda's voice cut through the air, sharp and clear. "What's going on?" She walked up to us, her elegant gown rustling, her hand possessively taking my arm. Her eyes, usually so expressive, were unreadable as she stared at Valerius.
Valerius's brief flicker of vulnerability vanished, replaced by his cold composure. "Nothing. I was just about leaving."
"Good," she said, her voice clipped, barely a whisper. The tension between them was palpable.
I stayed silent, my gaze darting between them, trying to parse the unspoken language of their interactions. Rosalinda's fingers still clutched my arm, her knuckles white. He bottom lip was caught between her teeth, gnawing raw.
Whatever they were both hiding.
It was tearing her apart.
What the hell was going on? And why does Valerius seems to be at heart of it?