The Placeholder

Chapter 3

"That's Verduschkir's Princess?" A shrill voice laced with disbelief is loud enough to separate from the unionized babble. "She is the one who will rule alongside Prince Nathaniel?"

I flinch as the speaker evidently does not approve of me based on what she sees.

Erick hears the commentary as well. He swiftly closes my window and locks it firmly in place; the window on his side is already shut. Hundreds of voices muffle, as if my ears had been stuffed with cotton. I am grateful for the sound barrier.

I try to avoid their gazes. They surround me, which makes it extremely difficult. I keep my eyes adjusted ahead.

I would have settled to keep my eyes trained on the floor if my mother hadn't beaten me to the punch years ago.

While training me in proper etiquette, I had been told that a lowered gaze is a sign of submission, something to avoid if I want to command respect from the people in my new home; who would one day officially become my people.

So I stare straight forward. Appearing stern and resolved, similar to my mother- when in truth, my nerves endings are shivering.

It seems impossible that today is already blurring past so rapidly. Has it really been several hours since I left Verduschkir? It felt like only mere minutes.

My two drivers had managed to shake off the disproving crowd.

Erick is scowling.

"Remember what I told you," He demands, his dark eyes boring into me. "I'm going to get you out of this."

"You will try your best," I reply dryly.

This earns me a scalding glare.

Our carriage crawls up a steep, winding path. Obscure behind an entanglement of unkempt vegetation. The ghost of secondhand mortification creeps in the corners of my mind.

My parents would have been horrified by this carelessness. This passage would have been made presentable immediately if they were here…

But they aren't.

I squint, peering through vast maple and pine trees. I spot a flash of white in the distance, and am certain that what I had seen is Bardulm's citadel.

Apprehension coils the muscles in my stomach, turning my guts into a bundle of knots; tight and suffocating.

Erick tries to calm me with promises, empty in their worth, that I will return home where I belong. It doesn't help the way he wants it to. Eventually, I have to order him to stop.

My surroundings mold together in a whirlpool of colour and sound. I curl in on myself- dissociating from the world around me. A chill shakes my spine.

I don't want to look at the expanding figure that is glowing and stretching above the horizon; only growing larger with each passing minute, but I must see.

And so I do.

I am bound to be curious. Afterall, Bardulm's palace is about to be mine as well.

It is an itch that I don't want to scratch; an unpleasant sensation that only becomes more and more irritating to withstand.

I almost yell at myself aloud as my gaze, merely by accidental instinct, elevates to visual contact with painted stone.

Similar to a fly caught in an intricate spider web, I can't escape once I have touched base with my destiny.

The castle is about the same size as the one at home. However, there are a few blatant differences, and I try to focus on those minor details instead of the demanding tasks ahead.

Bardulm's citadel is a few stories taller than Verduschkir's, but ours is wider by roughly an acre of land.

Whichever ancestor of mine had chosen the colour settled on a stormy blue, the shade of a raging ocean's depth.

Here, they had chosen snowy white.

I distantly wonder how many times they needed to repaint, especially during war. Surely, blood would have stained the walls. And it couldn't have been anymore noticeable.

The man controlling the horse on my left whistles lowly.

"Wouldn't it be nice to live here," He muses. His voice is hoarse and scratched. I would wager smoking cigars is the leading cause to that.

"Sure looks pretty," His friend beside him agrees. Flecks of red in his hair gleam under the sun. He rubs the back of his neck absently with his right hand. "I wonder if it's equally as impressive on the inside."

"Oh, for sure," the first man retorts. "Everything they own has to be embroidered in jewels or melded out of gold."

I catch the faint wistful edge to his tone, and worry that my parents may not be paying some of their workers enough.

The carriage slows as the two men continue their sightseeing. This gives me more time to prepare; it also allows me more time to panic.

My pulse resumes it's nagging sprint.

You are going to be fine, I encourage myself. Recall everything your mother instructed and you will be right as rain.

I clench my eyes shut and take calming breaths through my mouth.

It should be simple enough to play my role. I had been trained excessively since I was a child.

Admittedly, I'm not doubtlessly confident in my mother's advice. She lied to me about Timmy, which is not an action that can be ignored.

She has only the best intentions towards me and towards her people, I believe that. What I am concerned about is who she would pick, if she absolutely had to choose? Me, or the citizens of Verduschkir? More importantly, has she already made that decision? Is my arranged marriage a product of my mother weighing her responsibility as a Queen, over her responsibility as a parent?

A bitter voice rings in my skull.

I think you know the answer to that already, Rhoswen…

I shake my head furiously.

This is ridiculous. Since when did I not trust my own mother? She isn't the one who signed the contract—that had been my father's doing. Mother had no say in the matter. Even more, she had done the best she could to prepare me. So that I could live as comfortably as possible.

That's not fully correct, is it? She could have stopped this if she sincerely wanted to. She could have at least tried.

I falter.

I can't prove that she had fought for me. From as far as my memory can stretch, she hadn't in my presence. Maybe she argued in my defense while I was asleep, or when I was a baby. Perhaps, before I was even born.

This isn't why I hesitate. I hesitate because I don't believe she had tried to keep me.

It all came back to what my mother had weighed in her favour. Me or her kingdom?

The answer is obvious. She's never shown regret. Not once, why do you suppose that is?

"No. I'm not listening to this nonsense anymore."

The real question is are you willing to see the truth?

I lurch forward, childishly flattening my palms against my ears.

Something clicks. A truth that had always been ready to surface.

I was the one who hadn't been ready.

"NO!"

"Rhoswen," I hear Erick call close to my side.

"Snap out of it."

I try my best to do as he says, forcing my eyes to c***k open.

Erick is crouched as close as he possibly can near my feet. His dark hair, usually neat and flat against his head, is sticking out in all directions. His eyes are bright with alarm.

My breaths come out shallow and uneven, causing me to feel lightheaded.

"What's wrong?" My guard says sharply.

I suck in a long gust of air before responding.

"She didn't choose me," I say weakly.

I remember the sad way my mother had looked at me during breakfast this morning. I had assumed she felt bad that my father hadn't cared to support me, or even came to say goodbye to his only daughter.

I had been wrong.

My mother hadn't felt guilty because of my father. She had been guilty because, like him, I wasn't her first priority either.

Erick stills.

"She...Meaning your mother?"

I nod.

My personal guard hesitates.

"Rhose, your mother loves you."

My answering tone is bland.

"I know she does."

Just not enough…

We both are silent for a moment. The final verdict blanketed atop both of our heads, like six feet worth of snow.

"It's funny," I murmur more to myself than to Erick. "You were dishonest with me as well."

He stiffens at my side.

"What are you talking about?" He barks.

A rancid laugh threatens to bubble past my lips. I have to smash my mouth shut briefly to deny the urge.

"Earlier, you made it sound like my mom cares about me as much as you do," I turn to him. Feeling my face from the inside out, my features hold nothing but a shell.

"You knew that was never the case though, didn't you? Deep down, you are the only one who doesn't see me as simply the placeholder of peace."

Erick opens his mouth, but doesn't get the chance to answer

The carriage halts abruptly. I can feel the finality of my trip before I have to check.

Sure enough, my future awaits; towering before me. A giant who wishes to stomp on my freedom.

My only defenses against this disaster are my promise to keep my homeland safe, my longing to reunite with my brother, and my mother's training.

That last one may not even be reliable. Now that I have seen the complete reality—free of denial—it has become evident that my happiness, or at least emotional comfort, is not my mother's main focus.

I have always believed my father is the one who obsesses solely on his kingdom, and that my mother is the parent who holds me closest to her heart.

What I never considered, refused to consider, is that my father's motives could have easily rubbed off on her too.

I understand the severity of royal duty. How could I not? My life is being given to the cause simply because of the blood that runs in my veins.

But shouldn't the people who share that blood come before anything else? Isn't family supposed to be placed on the pedestal of one's love? Or does that not apply to someone of royal heritage?

I must still be blinded, if I can't find the answers. To me, it should be family that comes first—as often as possible. Maybe that is enough evidence to conclude that I am not capable of being a true Queen.

Erick sits back, his right hand slowly reaching for the door's handle. His eyes are cold and calculating. His jaw sharpens.

"We don't have to get out right this second," he says, "Take your time."

His hand itching towards the door betrays him.

I push my carriage door open. Delaying is only going to make it worse.

She could have traveled with you.

Your father can hide behind his cowardly excuses all he wants, but your mother wasn't busy. She could have come so you had more time together.

My mother told me on my birthday I would have to go without her. She refused to hinder my reputation; to make it seem that I need a parent to hold my hand.

It isn't my reputation she had been concerned about. It is hers.

The wind had finally ceased it's hollering; The air is now still and the sky is clear. I feel a tad better knowing my travelling companions will not be riding home in unpleasant weather conditions.

Erick rounds to my side of the carriage, standing at my side.

"I'll come with you to the door."

"No, you won't."

My guard bristles.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't need you to."

Erick's face spasms and I add hastily,

"I have to go on my own; I have show this country I am strong."

He hesitates.

"If that is what you want."

"It is."

I approach the two men who had driven me here. The first man is petting one of the massive horses; feeding it an apple in his palm. The second is still seated, drinking a bottle of water.

They both bow as I come close.

"Your Highness, the ride was satisfactory, I hope."

I give them a reassuring smile.

"You have done your job well."

I glance at the second man, who is wearing a loose fitted grey shirt. He caps his bottle and places it beside him.

"Is there anything else we can do for you?" He asks.

"I am wondering if my father is paying you both reasonably," I reply, "Are you able to support yourselves?"

I watch their reactions carefully. They look surprised.

"Absolutely," the first man exclaims over the noise of his horse chomping. "We get paid more than enough."

The second man nods in agreement.

"Good."

I'm not sure if they are saying this because they're afraid I'll report any complaints to my parents.

"I think you gentlemen are deserving of a raise. Do either of you have a pen and paper?"

"I do," the second man says excitedly. He reaches into a faded backpack tucked safely between his feet. After a moment of ruffling, he reveals a small notebook and a black pen. I reach over and take them from him.

"Norman always has that notebook on him," the first man remarks, amused. "He likes to write poems."

"There's nothing wrong with that," I say. I flip to the back of Norman's book and rip out a piece of paper.

The first man snickers.

"Nothing wrong with it at all." He winks at his partner. "But it's still funny when a guy tries to act tough, then writes about butterflies and roses."

Norman grunts. "I don't write about any of that nonsense," he protests.

"And you're lucky that you're beside the animals, Greg. Otherwise, I would throw a rock at you."

I scribble a note and my signature underneath.

Then, I return Norman's pen and book with my note on top.

"When you return home, you can give that to my mother and she will raise both your salaries."

It's the least she can do for abandoning me.

Norman stares at the piece of paper as if I had written it in a complex code. He carefully folds it and slips it into one of the pockets on his backpack.

"Thank you, Princess." The first man, Greg, says. "Thank you very much."

I nod. "Thank yourselves."

I turn away from them and they return to their playful banter.

Erick waits a few feet back with my luggage. He is grinning.

"You're going to make a great queen one day," he tells me.

I retrieve my bags from him.

After an awkward pause, he adds fiercely, "Just not here."

I have no reply.

We don't embrace and we don't stall for meager seconds. I refuse to make this anymore dramatic than it already is.

I offer my hand, ignoring the sharp jab that pierces my stomach- in response to Erick's transparent pain. He accepts my offer and we shake hands firmly.

"I'll write to you in the next few days," I promise.

My guard's eyes gleam from the moisture in them.

"I will see you soon."

He barely manages a whisper.

I keep my chin up as I walk away; my heels that Mother had chosen for me clack noisily, and the dragging of my suit cases rumble dismally.

Soon, I hear a low mumble of wheels on gravel, and the gallop of horse hooves behind me.

I don't look back.

Less than thirty seconds later, there is nothing left to be heard.

And then there was one. All by her lonesome.

I mount round, shallow stairs devoid of a railing. It would have been nice to use as a stabilizer for my slightly trembling legs, but I will have to make due without. I pick up my belongings and carefully take my time.

The stairs are painted the same as the castle itself. I'm slightly alarmed by how stainless they are, and all of the white disturbs me.

I hope the inside is more colourful. This is supposed to be home, not a medical centre.

The front double doors, similar to the ones at my old castle in shape and size, are…..White. However, there are metal-made designs curved in intricate patterns on them. I spot a large, capital 'B' in the centre of the left door, written in swirly calligraphy. There are also two sword and crown designs as well. All are silver.

I almost sigh in relief as I find a red doorbell.

At least something is vibrant here.

I go to press the big, demanding button, then stop.

There is already no going back—I know this, for I am already here and have no one to take me back. Yet, a physical step inside seems more...official somehow. As if I will completely forfeit any control or freedom if I willingly press that doorbell and don't turn around right this second.

But there is no turning back, there never was. And there is nowhere else I can go. Not until I find Timmy.

A young boy with blue eyes and golden hair. This is what I had come here for. If I'm going to reunite with my lost family member then I can't keep regretting this course of action.

I have to play my role, at least for now.

I press on the red circle, wincing as a loud ringing echoes on the other end of the doors. Like death bells.

I hold my breath as time suspends. There is a long wait with no response.

This singular moment ceases to simply me at the gateway of my next chapter.

It is something I cannot cling onto, so time revives to a sluggish churn; the throb of a weak heartbeat.

Fate cannot be ignored.

With the flip of a latch, speed generates to a normal pace.

I know that I am no longer alone when the doors begin to creak.