Equilibrium

Chapter Five

I raise my hands to shield my head when something--no, someone--knocks the dog aside. I hear the air leave the dog's lungs, but it seems almost unaffected. It scrambles for purchase, never taking its eyes off of me. I roll to put more distance between myself and the dog and I catch a glimpse of red.

It is a Chautin soldier. The Chautin soldier I helped, who had a signet ring on him. The prince, I have presumed. He is dressed as a soldier and I think it must be a disguise. He takes the rock I scraped myself on and throws it expertly at the dog. The rock lodges in the dog's chest, but it isn't dead yet. It keeps coming. The soldier reaches down and hauls me to my feet. I let out a hiss at the physical contact before I realize that it doesn't even hurt. His touch hasn’t hurt at all. The prince releases me, scanning me for injuries and I shove him out of the way of the dog as it charges. The dog stumbles and dies in the grass feet away from us, kicking and growling awkwardly. I look up at the soldier and he is already looking at me, breathing hard, looking slightly disgruntled. His eyes roam over me, checking for injury, but I am unhurt.

"We aren't even." He mutters almost to himself, and I let out a harsh scoff.

"I don't want anything from you." I retort, and he is surprised for a moment before he releases a reluctant grin.

"You may be the only one." He jokes, and then he sobers, because he must realize that I won't get the joke. I know nothing about him. The fact that he is trying to be friendly sets me on edge.

Ezra runs forward, grabbing for my arm, but I lurch away from his touch. The prince’s gaze narrows at my reaction and I am briefly embarrassed, somehow worried that he might assume the wrong thing. Elias is only a step behind Ezra and his expression tells me he recognizes the man that has just saved my life. I can’t bring myself to meet his questioning look. Shame is flooding my veins. If I look at him, I might start to cry. He steps around Ezra and gingerly maneuvers himself in front of me. When he offers his arm, allowing me to touch on my own terms, I allow him to lead me back, where he insists on staying close to me until the Advairlians arrive. I watch the prince from afar and I know he is watching me. I wait for him to tell his people that I was seen with Daniel, the prince they killed. I wait for him to tell them that I was important to Daniel, that I was the one hysterical when he died. That I might be the heir.

He says nothing. It does not matter. In the morning we will meet and my true identity will be revealed inside of a safe location, where it will be too late for anyone to harm me. The disguise is really for tonight, when I am asleep and my double is awake wondering if anyone will make an attempt on her life.

“You’re distracted,” Elias notes later that night as I sit near the fire. I shrug, ignoring my mother’s look of disapproval.

“Should I not be?” I inquire softly, glancing up at him. The fire’s glow casts shadows on his face but the shadow of grief is more pronounced than they could ever be.

“I never know how to pull you out of yourself. That was...that was Daniel’s job.” He murmurs, too low for anyone else to catch. I feel my shoulders drop and the tension in me leaves in one harsh exhale. I’m tired.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Neither of us say anything for a good long while.

“I loved him too,” Elias finally admits as he stands, awkwardly hovering for a moment. “I don’t want to forget him. So if you want to talk, you can always find me.” He offers, reminding me of our earlier conversation, and then he leaves to patrol the grounds.

It is hours later when I am coaxed to bed and I realize I was wrong.

I will not be asleep tonight.

They send for us in the morning, before the sun has even peeked over the horizon. It does not matter. I haven’t slept. The Advairlians are already dressed in their fall garb. It suits the chill of the morning, but the afternoon will be just as hot as yesterday’s. They aren’t carrying weapons, but their reputation precedes them. They are well trained in martial arts and no one is willing to risk war with another country. It is far too hard to fight on two fronts. They lead the Chautin deeper into their fortress and us to a small kitchenette where we have a quick drink and some toast before we all head to the council room. I cannot force the dry bread to make the trip through my esophagus. I feel lightheaded and ill already. I drink two glasses of water before we are led to the Council room. When the doors open I am not surprised to see that the Chautin are already waiting and seated. I hesitate, causing the woman behind me to collide with me. I am graceful enough to keep from toppling over, although Ezra does insist on grabbing my arm. I bite my lip and resist the urge to yank my arm from his grasp in front of so many people. The commotion causes the prince to look up and he, too, stops cold. His eyes lock on mine, such a hypnotic blue, and then I look away. I continue to my seat with my signature insouciance, one that makes others look away uncomfortably. Only Nehemiah tries to hold my gaze. I sit down numbly, folding my hands in my lap and waiting for this meeting to commence. Our hosts are watching wearily. Weapons were not allowed, but I don’t deny that I feel unsafe here.

They could kill me without the use of a weapon. The thought makes me colder and I nearly shiver, but that would be a sign of weakness. I need to intimidate. I need them to want this, at least half as much as I do. We need peace.

I need peace.

"Both sides in a war have gathered to discuss how a peaceful end can be made. Many times, you have both tried to stop the fighting, so we have come to only one conclusion. Would the princess of Genika please stand?"

I do.

"And the prince of Chautin?"

Nehemiah stands.

"Betrothal between the two is the best we can offer. If both parties are willing, it is a simple solution. Unite the two and you can’t be forced to kill your own people.”

Everything after that kind of fades and I see shock register on many faces. My mother is the first to voice her disapproval, and loudly. Nehemiah opens his mouth and he says something, but in the chaos I cannot hear it. I watch his expression change from open and curious to...blank.

"Quiet!" I command, and miraculously, both sides fall silent. "You were saying?" I look at Nehemiah this time, so he knows that I am speaking directly to him. He visibly changes under my gaze, but I can’t tell if he is surprised or afraid. I’d like to think the latter, but that is doubtful.

“I would like to talk to Emmaline, alone.” Nehemiah announces and there is an immediate uproar of disapproval that is only interrupted when I stand, making the decision before it can be made for me.

“If he wanted me dead, he would have killed me when his people killed my brother. He was standing right next to me, after all.” My voice is soft, but my words are sharp and many people in the room fall quiet. “And if I wanted him dead, I would have let him rot on that battlefield.” With that, I begin to leave the room. I shake my head at Ezra when I pass, but it is the look on my face that makes him remain seated. I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty of my biting words or tone. Whispers break out among the people on the opposite side of the room as I slowly make my way to where Nehemiah stands. I stare somewhere above his head, avoiding his gaze. He stands there for a moment before he begins to walk and I follow him, holding my head high.

I am dressed as a queen and each step I take is audible. My dress billows put behind me and around me, a dazzling emerald green. I look invincible. I feel it, too. Confidence flares through me. When he was in my presence before, alone, he was nothing but polite and careful. I do not expect now to be any different.

“I want to know what you think.” He says as soon as there is a closed door behind us.

The Advairlians vacate the room quickly, giving us a wide berth and as much privacy as they dare.

“I think that neither of us really have a choice. It will take something drastic to bring peace at this point.” I answer politically, honestly, and Nehemiah sighs. I can feel his frustration.

“Emma,” He begins, but I bristle. The nickname grates along my spine.

“Family or friends call me Emma. To you, I am Emmaline.” I interrupt him coolly and there is an awkward pause. I try to forget that he has seen me at my worst, or that I know what he looks like with his shirt off. That I liked the way he looked with his shirt off. For a long, tense moment I can’t look at him and he can’t speak.

“I’m sorry, Emmaline. I didn’t know what they would do. If I had known, I would have done something to stop it.” He murmurs, and this time he knows better than to attempt to approach me. I cross my arms over my chest to protect my aching heart.

“The fault is not entirely yours. What do you suggest we do?” I change the subject and when I finally meet his gaze again, he has retreated into himself as I often do. Emotions are not required here. In fact, I banish them. I can’t think of myself now. I have an entire country relying on me. Putting their hope on me. And I want more than anything to bring them happiness. I want them to have faith in me. I want to succeed.

“I think we should lie.” He says it so bluntly that it takes me a second to catch up with what he really said.

“Excuse me?” I take a step back, craning my neck to look at him. His mouth twitches.

“Well, we could lie or we could tell all of our allies that we want them to stop trading with and declare war on whoever breaks it, should this alliance fall through.” The look on my face gives him his answer. I don’t trust the possibility of us this succeeding enough to try to tell our allies to do as he suggested. I won’t risk declaring war on the world in order to end the war on one country, ruthless as they may be.

"I suggest,” he continues, “that we tell them about our decision, but if they are to refuse, I am having a ball in six days, near midnight. If you come there, I will know that you are serious about it. Just show them..." He searches through his pockets for something, and I automatically produce his signet ring.

"This?" I raise a brow at him and he pauses.

"Yes." He smiles, silently offering friendship, but I look away from him, and he admits defeat to open the door.

And just like that, our plan is in motion.

We return to the council room, where my mother immediately insists on taking me home. We leave, but not before Nehemiah catches my eye and he discreetly taps his bare finger. The ring. I tuck it back into my bodice casually and when I turn to look back at him once more, he is gone.