The Apathetic Knight

Chapter 14 - Cinder

Chapter 14 – Cinder

***TRIGGER WARNING ::: Mention of trauma, extreme depression, and other dark themes with graphic details.

Please proceed with caution.

June, 315 Ashland Rule

It was at the six-month mark, back in May, that we told the kingdom about the pregnancy.

That was a cautionary detail, to ensure that the baby was well-developed and safely out of the most dangerous period of the pregnancy, before anyone found out about it.

Now, during the seventh month, Kynareth began to nest a lot.

The doctor said that it was natural, like a mother bird, building a nest for the arrival of her eggs.

She was much like a bird these days, as I often found her in the gardens or on her terrace, humming a beautiful and familiar tune.

The first time I had heard it, when she had been just coming out of the first trimester, she had been knitting as she sang the tune aloud, no words, just the melody itself in her voice.

She was a beautiful singer, with an angelic, airy, soothing voice that I had quickly grown to love hearing.

It was still strange for me to admit that to myself.

Over the last several months, I had made much more of an effort.

She was to be the mother of my child, so it was a necessary thing.

I listened to the tune, taking it in.

I had known the tune, remembering humming it against her belly several times, and I had chuckled at how she had taken it and made it her own.

Now, she had even added words, and it was a song of praise and beauty and blessing upon our child.

It did odd, warm, tingly things to my belly to hear her praising the child that I had cultivated inside of her body.

It made me feel things to know that she was happy with the idea of having a child from the both of us.

Things may not have been as bad as I had initially thought, in the beginning...

Our relationship had changed a bit, as we began to take walks together and rest together, discussing our futures and imagining life with a baby.

Since the night that she had given herself over to me, I had made an effort to try to be a bit friendlier to her. Now, it wasn't strained or awkward, not forced, not pushed.

We felt...natural.

Even in our silences, it felt so natural to be together and just hold hands and be close.

I had gone from hating her outright, to strongly disliking her and avoiding her. Now, I no longer strongly disliked her, either.

In fact, I didn't dislike her at all, anymore...

It was very odd, indeed.

She was a sweet girl, kind and giving.

She made a great effort in the city and in charity events, banquets, tea parties and the like. She had hosted several, now, as the crowned princess. As her husband, it was my job to be sure that I sent the invitations to all of the appropriate aged and ranked ladies, ladies in other arranged marriages to other noblemen...

I found her friends and connections and was sure that everything worked seamlessly for her. I made sure that her brother was welcomed and that his letters found their way to her safely. I made sure that she was able to enjoy her visits with him when he came to visit, though I felt the need to look after them both by telling him that he frequented our palace and sent letters too often.

She was upholding her duties as my wife well, and the people liked her. In the process, she was showing me that she was taking this position seriously, and that she loved this nation as well.

I could see her being a good queen, and I hadn't been able to before. She had grown and matured a lot in the last several months, with impending motherhood leading her down a stronger, wiser mindset.

I could see myself ruling this nation with this woman at my side, helping me...and that was the most important thing.

I was...beginning to cherish her.

She would soon give birth to our child, brought to us through this new love that was beginning to blossom.

When had I even started thinking of this tingly sensation as love? I didn't actually want to love her. I wanted to dislike her...but I couldn't dislike her, anymore.

I couldn't say that I really liked her, but I didn't dislike her anymore. I felt all muddled and confused, not really knowing where to turn in my mind.

I tried not to think about it too much.

I wondered what the child would look like; would he or she have my raven locks of hair?

Or would they have her beautiful, platinum, wheat-shaded mane?

Would he or she have my piercing, golden-green eyes, or their mother's soothing, clear-blueish-gray eyes?

Would he or she have her dimples?

My thick lips?

Her cute nose?

It drove me mad wondering.

I could hardly contain myself.

*

July, 315 A.R.

It was the twenty-third day of the month—the first day of the "Leo" zodiac, which Kynareth also happened to be a part of, coincidentally—that we held the baby shower for Kynareth.

My mother-in-law and my sister had planned everything.

I was initially wary of my sister planning the event, but she had come to me saying that she had been jealous of my wife, but wanted to show her sincerity and start over with her now that she was to be an aunt.

She had seemed sincere, and all of her arrangements and planning checked out with our safety team.

Kynareth and I enjoyed a wonderful meal with everyone—which had been tasted and checked for poisons, so we hadn't suspected anything...

We all gathered and listened to her sing her completed lullaby as she held her hands over her belly affectionately, eyes closed and smile in place.

We cheered and congratulated her, giving thanks and blessings to our baby inside of her.

All was going so exceptionally well...

That was always when tragedy seemed to strike.

It was shortly after the opening of gifts that Kynareth began to complain of cramps. It grew to be severe cramping, so badly that she was struggling to breathe.

Fear had plagued me, watching her suffer and not knowing what was happening.

I was agonized over her pain, fearing for my child inside of her.

What was going on?

The doctor arrived just as she began to scream, doubling over in pain, and we rushed her to the medical room, panicked and afraid.

If this was labor, she was still almost a month early!

She wasn't due until the latter half of August, after her birthday...

I got behind her on the bed, letting her lean back against me.

Seryn was on one side and, somehow, her brother was on the other, sobbing and crying as he listened to her agonized screams and telling her she'd be alright.

His wife had been in attendance, I remembered in my mind.

Had his wife done this? I knew that she wasn't fond of Kynareth.

Had his wife...done what?

I didn't even know what was happening, but I was already looking for someone, somewhere, to put the blame onto, because this wasn't natural.

It now no longer seemed like labor. The doctor said that the pains and signs didn't indicate a normal labor.

Something else was at work here, but what?

The doctor had a grave look on his face, not wanting to say anything until his suspicions were confirmed, I guessed.

The men had been enjoying cigars and brandy in another area of the palace while myself and all of the ladies had been opening gifts, and I hadn't suspected anything to be out of place or out of order.

When had this happened?

What had happened?

The others waited outside of the room, pacing and worried, confused...

She began to push, gasping for air and crying, blood going everywhere. The doctor, startled, began giving her direction and jumping into action, prepping the nurses to help us with delivery.

Was my child actually being born right now?

Perhaps this was just a very early delivery, and nothing was actually wrong?

I hoped, against all odds, that everything was actually okay...

Soon, the doctor was reaching to her center, pulling out a small, limp, lifeless body.

I froze, my blood running cold.

No cries. No wails or even a whimper.

Please, please, please, I begged in my mind.

A few moments passed in silence, staring at the lifeless little body in the doctor's hold even as he waited with baited breath for a moment.

We were too frozen to react.

The baby was purple and stiff, cold...

Dead for a good bit of time, it seemed.

Kynareth groaned incoherently, and we finally breathed again, life coming back into the room.

The doctor examined the child, his face almost blue with the loss of blood, but he gave a solemn, negative shake of his head.

"C-can I see my baby?" Kynareth asked, eyes closed...still not aware of what was happening.

Fearful pain speared me, gutting me like a pig.

How would she handle this?

She was already so fragile. So young, so tender. She was so sweet, so caring and loving.

She had already been so attached to our baby...

What was I supposed to do now?

It had taken her so long to open up to me to begin with, it had taken us so long to reach this point.

Could I even help her through this?

Would she trust me?

Would she even try to look to me for strength?

We had only just started to let love in, giving it room in our space together, just started to grow a bond of a romantic nature.

Could she bring herself to face me after this?

What if she didn't? Would I have to divorce her and subject myself to growing love with another woman? Would I even be able to?

On the other hand, what if she did? Would we be able to get back in a good, decent place and have more children? Would she be able to handle that?

Would she look to me to help her through this tragedy?

Was I even strong enough for that...?

My child was dead...

The doctor glanced up at me, and clenching my eyes tight for a moment, I sobbed, but I gave a nod.

I saw Kynareth look back and up at me.

"What's wrong, Cinder?" She asked. "Is the baby too beautiful for you?" She laughed in a joke.

"Sister..." Astaroth whispered, clutching her hand tighter.

She heard the sad, serious tone of his voice and sat up a bit, opening her eyes as the doctor handed her the freshly cleaned, lifeless body of our child, wrapped in a blue blanket...

We had a son.

We would have had a son.

On his head were his mother's thick, light blonde tufts of hair...and that was all we would ever know about him.

She went still, unmoving, as the truth began to hit her.

I could see the blood drain from her face, see the light fade from her eyes, see her happiness shatter into a million pieces.

It was written all over her face.

Her body was rigid.

"Kynareth..." I whispered; my voice thick. "Darling-"

Stunning me into silence, she opened the boy's mouth and began to blow desperately into his body, before using two fingers to press his belly.

She repeated the process, again and again, begging the heavens to return her boy.

She was trying to revive him...

Tears blurred my vision, watching as she worked over him.

It wasn't until after five entire minutes of this, without a single change, that I had to end it.

"Kynareth, darling, stop...please. It is over. He is gone," I told her. "Its too late..." I wrapped my arms around her, placing a kiss to her temple. "There is nothing we can do."

A sad, heart-wrenched wail slowly crept out of her chest as she took our son in her arms, hugging to her in a tender but frantic hold that splintered my heart.

"My...my boy," she choked out, struggling to breathe.

Tears stung my eyes.

Just that frail, pitiful, broken sound from her was enough to break whatever was left of my splintered heart.

"Our boy," I whispered in her ear. I looked up at the doctor. "I want an explanation."

"Sire, from...from the coloring of the infant, his current state...she had been feeling fine and the baby had been very active this morning...the cramps began over an hour ago, just after the meal..." He paused. He looked up at me. "The meal," he repeated, eyes wide.

"Poison?" I whispered, confused. "But the taste-testers...there were no ill effects! Even I feel just fine!" I said, upset. "What—"

"Perhaps not poison, but rather..." He met my eyes, and I knew what he meant.

He was being careful of his words, knowing that he could cause her to snap.

She was still stiff.

From the looks of things, however, evidence pointed to abortion medicine.

I glared at Seryn. "My sister was in charge of the entire baby shower. Bring me my sister. Now." I ordered, and wordlessly, he set out to do my bidding.

Astaroth stood, going to cry softly in the corner.

I wanted to join him...but I had more important things...

I wrapped my arms around my wife, adding an extra set of arms to the hug that held our son.

"What shall we name him?" I asked her, and she flinched. "He deserves a name. He is the prince, and our son. What shall we call him?"

She gazed upon the child before the name tumbled from between her lips, and I froze.

"Asfaloth," she whispered. "I had...intended to give a son a similar name to Astaroth...in honor of our sibling bond...if the boy looked like me."

Astaroth fell to his knees in the corner, clutching the wall desperately as he sobbed, begging the heavens to have mercy upon his sister and nephew and brother.

I was almost flattered to be in his prayers, even though I knew of his odd affections for my wife, his own twin.

His sobs were gut-wrenching, harsh and guttural.

He gasped, struggling to even get the cries out as he almost choked on them, the force of his sobs so heavy.

It was an extraordinary honor to have a child named in your namesake. He was being so highly honored by his sister.

I didn't resent the name.

After all, the two being twins, they held a special bond to one another, and I knew that he was my wife's first love.

I could live with that.

Since the baby looked like her, it was sort of a funny joke, almost, to name him similarly to his uncle, who he would also look like. I wasn't offended.

I just hadn't been anticipating it.

"Asfaloth Blaze Renard Ashland," I deemed him, and Kynareth began to tremble and cry, pressing kisses desperately into the baby's hair and cheeks, almost as if it could bring him back to life.

I wished that it could.

The door flew open to Seryn, holding my sister by her wrist, and he slung her at us. "I apologize for the intrusion...but I felt that you deserved to know of this treason."

"I didn't do anything!" My sister cried, holding her arm. "You will die for this!"

"Tell me the truth," I ordered Seryn. He nodded.

"She consorted with a knight at the Severing duchy, who obtained abortion medication, and paid a maid to slip it into the entire feast. The maid was found dead, bled out through biting her tongue, in her quarters. The knight also killed himself this morning. A dagger to the throat, at an angle that determined it was self-inflicted. What do you want me to do, your highness?" He asked, snarling down at my sister even as she continued to plead her innocence.

Anger ripped through my body, and I struggled to contain myself. "Get my father."

*

August, 315 A.R.

It had been a month since that fateful day. When my father had come in, we told him what had happened and gave all the evidence, and we found out that Kynareth had not been the only one to lose a child that day, in fact.

One other noble, the wife of a count, had lost her baby as well, in almost the exact same fashion as my wife.

It seemed that it was, indeed, the truth.

My sister was imprisoned and our father, even now, was still mulling over whether or not to have her executed.

It would have helped if Kynareth had an opinion...

However, since the stillbirth of our son, she had hardly left his graveside.

The first night after his death, while his body had been prepared, she had been completely inconsolable. I didn't know how to approach her in this situation.

We'd had a large funeral in his honor, and he had been buried in the garden right behind the palace, among Kynareth's favorite flowers. It was only a temporary place, while a formal mausoleum was being built in his honor, but it felt better to at least give him a proper burial, since he was a prince.

Since that day, things had spiraled out of control for my wife, and I had no idea what to do about it.

Where did we go from here?

I watched, in lonely agony, as my wife sat by the headstone, all day each day, no expression on her face.

She wouldn't speak.

She wouldn't eat.

She wouldn't sleep until she literally passed out from exhaustion, and then she would continue her vigil over his resting place the moment she had awoken.

Even in the rain, she sat by the grave.

Seryn stayed at her side, a silent vigil over her at all times, bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep...but he wasn't willing to leave her.

I knew that he was just as agonized as the rest of us, horrified that he'd been unable to save the baby, and thus save his liege.

He had taste-tested the food she had eaten, but because he wasn't pregnant and because he wasn't the target, he had been unaffected. The abortion medication was flavorless, thus undetectable.

I could certainly understand why Kynareth didn't want to eat anything...she was traumatized.

The only ones at fault were the ones who had set this into motion.

I hadn't even seen my sister since that day. I hadn't been able to look at her. I hadn't been willing to.

All I wanted to do was kill her.

*

It was an early morning, when I startled awake from the recurring nightmare of my child's death, and I washed my face and hands before I turned to my shadow guard as he swept silently into my room.

"Is she in her chambers?" I asked, and he kneeled, shaking his head.

"No, sire. She is by the grave."

I sighed, exasperated. "Of course, she is. I don't know why I even bother asking, the answer never changes. What time is it?"

"Still before dawn."

I glanced out the window, my window overlooking the garden where our son was buried and she was, indeed, sitting out beside the headstone, a coat made of a lion's pelt over her shoulders and a navy-blue, knitted baby blanket clutched in her hands.

I sighed. "Has she still not eaten of her own will?"

"No, sire."

I thought again of what the physician had recommended, after the first entire week had passed after the tragedy and she'd refused to eat...

I had been desperate, begging for an answer, when he'd given me a horrible, foul-feeling "solution".

"How long has it been since she was forced to eat?" I asked. "I hate to resort to that method, but I...I can't lose her."

He glanced up at me, "Four days, your highness."

Pain speared me. "Have Seryn force it again," I said, strained. "She must eat."

He nodded. "I shall do as you command, sire."

I turned. "I don't know what to do for her, Maxus..."

"Sire?"

I glanced at him again. "What can I do for her? This has shattered her, understandably. Even I...I am frightened at the prospect of even being intimate with her again. I am frightened to get her pregnant again. Maxus, we had only just started to let ourselves get a little closer, to let go of our dislike for one another. We were so... nervous, to grow together, grow as a new family. I'm just as shattered as she is! So, how do I....how could I possibly help this poor girl?"

"Perhaps she just needs some time to return to a healthier state," he comforted me. "I am sure, by the time your coronation arrives, she will be in better condition."

I would be turning twenty this year, in three more months. That meant that in just over a year, I would be crowned king, upon my twenty-first birthday.

"I hope so. It has already been a month, and she has hardly moved from her spot. It is like she isn't capable of normal function ability anymore."

"Excuse me, your highness," a maid said, coming in. "Your guard outside told me you were already awake."

I sighed heavily, turning my attention to her. "Yes, come in," I motioned her, and she stepped inside.

"Your father has requested for you, your highness."

I sighed again, but I pulled on a house coat and some slippers, before I made my way to my father's office.

He stood there, back facing me as he watched a painter, but I didn't pay any heed to what was being painted.

"Is her condition still the same?" Father asked me as I arrived to his office. He didn't look at me.

He knew that I was still testy, lately.

The last that he had looked at me, he had commented on my ragged appearance and I had practically snapped his head off. I didn't blame him for not wanting to look at me.

I gave a nod. "It is."

"I see." He considered this. "I hope that time will heal her," he said sadly. "This is a terrible tragedy that has taken place, and I am still conflicted on how to handle this." He glanced at me before looking away again. "What do you wish to do, Cinder?"

I sighed. "Let me speak to her," I said. "I want to talk to Ember myself, and find out why it was that she did this. She was the one who took my child from me."

My father gave a nod. "She still hasn't told the interrogators anything, but she has been asking for you since the tragedy happened. Maybe, perhaps she may speak to you." He turned to face me completely, and I could see how tired his eyes were, in that moment. "You have no idea, my sorrow for you both," he said. "I know how excited you had both been. Surrow," he addressed the painter.

The painter stood and gave a bow, before he turned his painting to me, and I felt the wind knocked out of me.

It was a portrait of a boy, with my wife's hair, arms wide in a shower of falling flower petals, eyes closed, a peaceful smile on his face. He looked to be about five years old. A brilliant light shined from his back, almost in the shape of wings.

It was a stunning painting, but it hurt me so just to look at it.

"What is this?" I asked in a choked voice.

"Forgive me for being so presumptuous, your highness," the painter said, bowing. "Your father asked for me to paint an angel...your angel."

I glanced at my father, and his eyes were full of tears.

"Please forgive me for this," he said. "But I wished to gift it to you. I thought...perhaps she would like it."

I nodded. "She may, though I have no idea when I will be brave enough to allow it to be gifted to her, herself. There is no way that she is in any condition to receive such a gift at this time. It would destroy her. I am sure that you can understand...However, I will give you permission. Just wait until the right time."

He smiled. "Thank you for granting permission."

I looked away, giving a sigh before I turned to walk out of the room without another word.

I needed to speak to my sister.

I had never hated her before, I had always gotten frustrated with her easily because she was haughty and so, so clingy to me and to our other brother.

Now, I had to wonder how I would feel when I looked into the eyes of my baby sister...my son's murderer.