A Green Tree
When the princess had insisted that he stayed the night with her, with every ounce of blood in him, Rafael had wanted to leave. But with her large enchanting eyes and the way she’d peered up at him had made it impossible for him to cruelly refuse her and dash out. Especially when he was aware that his actions over the past days had caused her to worry.
With a hand behind his head, he gazed at the sleeping woman beside him. She lay on her back, her mouth slightly parted as the soft sound of her breath filled the space. Right then, he couldn’t help his eyes from noticing the way her red hair fell over the pillow like a cascade of fire tumbling into snow, and her eyes that were framed by lashes that were long and thick. His eyes trailed downward to her cherry lips. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes off her and stared at the ceiling.
“Ma…mama.” His gaze flew toward her immediately. Had he heard clearly? His eyes grew darker when she shivered in her sleep and again cried. “Mama.”
Her breathing became faster and harder and he noticed a few droplets of tears stream down her eyes. At the sight, he sat up on the bed. He examined her again and when she began to cry in her sleep, he threw his hands into his hair in confusion.
Was she having a nightmare? Did he need to call the physician?
“Hell.”
“Elora,” he called, carefully tapping her on her shoulder. But her cry only increased.
Rafael grew impatient. She must be in pain? Was that it? He didn’t know what to do in such situations. He was about to dash out of the room and find a physician when a hand wrapped tightly around his waist.
He felt his heart skip a beat. He stiffened. A skipped beat, it never happened.
After a thick minute, he stiffly lay on the bed again when he felt her body drift closer to him as if searching for warmth. His jaw clenched as she pushed even closer until her head lay on his bare chest. Her sobs decreased and she held him as if her life depended on his warmth. Before he knew it, his left hand circled around her waist and the other gently patted her head.
“Shh, you’re safe,” he softly comforted as her tears continuously streamed down his chest. Yet, she didn’t wake up. What kind of nightmare could she be having? He wondered. What could be troubling her so much? The longer her tears stained his chest, the more he felt like entering into her dream and chasing away whatever it was that could be troubling her. Only if it were possible.
Only when five thick minutes passed did her cry discontinue. From a few hiccups to dried tears, her soft breathing resumed again. He didn’t cease patting her hair, he wanted to, truly. But his hands perhaps had a mind of their own as they continued comforting her, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.
What was the tight feeling he could feel in his chest? He knew it wasn’t from the weight of the princess. She was tiny, frail, and weak compared to him. She weighed less than a feather.
So what was it? What was the nagging feeling to protect her? The feeling of never wanting to leave her side. When he married her, the plan was simple- see her only when needed and after everything is done and settled, discard her. Cuddling and comforting her was never a part of his plans.
And so for the next hour, he lay unmoving, staring at the ceiling, sometimes holding his breath for more than necessary as if he knew she might move her head or wake up if he moved. When it was almost dawn and after he confirmed she was deep into her sleep- this time peaceful, he carefully laid her head back on her pillow and rose from the bed.
Throwing a coat over his body, like a shadow, he silently stepped out of the room.
“Your highness.”
As if they’d been waiting all night, Draven and Adam stood good meters away from the door. At the sight of him, they bowed their heads before stepping to the Prince.
“Your highness.”
“Who dared let the princess walk on her own?” His voice cuts through the air, thick and harsh. “What if I’d hurt her?”
“Forgive us, your highness,” Draven lowered his head. “The servants thought the princess was asleep. And…it’s quite a surprise that the princess found the hidden dungeon.”
“Send guards to every corner of the estate," he commanded.
“Yes, your highness.”
He walked past them to the blood cellar where he poured himself a glass of wine. “Where is it?”
Silence reigned over them for a while and only after he sent a death glare their way did Draven step forward and drop a small bottle before him. Popping the lid open, Rafael flipped the bottle and a pill dropped on his palm.
“You harm your health further with this, your highness,” Draven warned, his expression pained. “It’s unadvisable that you start taking this.”
“It’s needed.”
“Your highness, please reconsider.”
“Death sounds better than putting the princess in harm's way.”
“You’re more important to our people,” he bit out. “That pill is deadly to your health… your highness.” He clasped his eyes shut as the Prince threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed.
“What is the seer’s response this time?”
Draven clutched his sword at his waist tightly and replied in a low tone. “Your highness, this winter, she said. You might have just this winter left.”
This time, the silence that reigned over them was thick and tension-filled. Neither Draven nor Adam said anything else. They only watched him with their breaths ceased. Five whole minutes passed before the Prince let out a sigh and a low, “I see.”
“I think we might’ve found The Gifted One.”
Draven continued. “A silver tree in the courtyard suddenly turned green overnight. It is unheard of in Elyria.”
That seemed to have caught the attention of Rafael as he sharply turned to them, his tone laced with disbelief. “What did you say?” Even he looked taken aback. Such a thing was unheard of. He strode across the room to the next window. Pulling the drape aside, he looked down at the courtyard and as his eyes caught sight of the green tree, he froze.
“Only a few hours after Lady Zireya’s visit here, one of the silver trees turned half green,” Draven informed. “It’s a miracle yet suspicious, your highness.”
His brows lifted, a shadow flickering in his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I’m certain you know what I mean. It might be Lady Zireya. I do not think she’s a bad choice for a concubine. She…”
“Drop it.” Rafael sucked in a sharp breath.
“If truly, Lady Zireya is The Gifted One, I’m afraid, you must take her as your concubine. Viscount Dean was here earlier to convince you.”
At the mention of Dean’s name, the Prince’s eyes darkened as his memory flashed to the Princess and the flowers he’d seen earlier. How dare the Viscount give a gift to his wife? What made it worse? She adored the damn flowers.
“He thinks that it’s also a wise thing to take Lady Zireya as a concubine. We all…”
He sharply cuts in. “Next time, when someone brings a gift for my wife, make sure to throw it before it reaches her.”
“Your highness. We are not talking about a thwart now… your highness, where are you going?”
“Your highness.”
Both men grunted when the Prince turned around and began to storm to the door. How could he dismiss the important topic that concerned both his life and Elyria only to speak about the Princess’s gift? Was his highness perhaps jealous?
“Yvlies. Come with me, now!”