Equilibrium

Chapter Seven

We greet the crowds for nearly an hour before Nehemiah excuses us for the night. I am tired, and my mind is swimming with names and professions. Nehemiah knows each and every one of his subjects, and I want to know these ones as well. Some were hostile, but most were civil enough. I do not think that I will have my throat slit in my sleep tonight, at least.

“You’ll be sleeping in my quarters. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the chaise.” He opens the door for me, but I can’t bring my legs to propel me forward. Fear is crawling up my throat and the walls feel closer. It hits me all at once--what I am doing.

I am resigning myself to a lifetime of danger, doubt, and fear. Doubled what it was before. I won’t ever fall in love. I won’t have the life my father fought so hard to give me, the life he died trying to give me.

“Emmaline?” Nehemiah ducks down to look me in the eye, and for the first time I realize that he has freckles. That the slope of his nose is perfect. That his hair curls, just a little bit, around his ears.

“I-” I don’t know what the words are, clawing their way up my throat.

I force myself to breathe. Breathe. I have people depending on me and I cannot back down. I shake my head, as if clearing it, but the motion makes me feel like I am going to be sick.

“Nothing.” I dismiss it, cautiously stepping around him and into the room.

It is bigger than I expected. My chambers back home are by no means small, but his are massive. There is a bed bigger than any I have ever seen directly ahead of me. The duvet is a deep royal blue and the pillows are mounded halfway down it. There is a speckled canopy meant to look like stars hanging above it. The wood floors are darker in here, polished. There is a window seat the size of a couch and a desk right next to it with an ornate chair to match. There are papers scattered across it. The chaise is tucked in one corner, the size of a bed itself. He will be comfortable, at least.

“There are nightclothes on the chest over there. The washroom is through that door, and the other one leads to a balcony. It would be best if you avoided it tonight.” He is still standing behind me. I nod mutely, my throat dry.

"Our rooms are built right next to each other, with an adjoining door. I thought it would be better this way, but your room isn’t finished quite yet." He shuts the door softly behind us. I suck in a deep breath. His room smells like pine.

"Nehemiah...what you said earlier...was it true?" I ask, because I need to know.

“I don’t think that I can...I don’t think that I will ever be able to forget what happened. The fighting and the war and the loss…” The implicit words hurt a little. He is saying that he could never love me. Maybe we could be friends at some point, but never really in love. I could never forget, either, but...every girl wants to be loved. They may not always show it, but it is a necessity in life.

A necessity that I will have to do without.

I will accept friends, then. I mean, I am going to be living with him--whether here or in Genika--for the rest of my life. Before I can gather a response, one of the guards comes through the doors without knocking or announcing himself.

“Sir, Lady Leighla wishes to see you.” He looks apologetic, as if he knows that he is interrupting something, except there is nothing to interrupt. There will never be anything to interrupt. I want, more than anything, to feel loved. It is something I will never get, and it creates a hollow feeling in my chest that I struggle to hide alone, so I hide everything together. I hide me, deep down where none of my hopes can rise. I pretend to occupy myself in observing the room. I force myself to be busy.

Not ten minutes later, Nehemiah re-enters.

"They are here. Your people. They are demanding peacefully to see you, but..." He warns, and I am glad that I have not yet had time to change into night apparel. I couldn’t quite figure out how to take the dress off. Getting it on was easy enough with the servants at home to help. I had resigned myself to sleeping in it.

I follow behind him swiftly, to the large spiral staircase that leads down to the lower floor--the very same one I ascended hours ago...years ago--branching off at other floors as well, like a tree. This place is confusing, but I am starting to get the hang of it. Confusing, but beautiful. Meant to be distracting. The lower floor opens up into a large open room, where there are five people, one of which is Elias, and he is livid. Ezra stands off to his right, pacing the length of the floor. The general is here, along with two of the best Genician soldiers.

"I wish to speak to Lady Emmaline alone." Ezra practically demands immediately. There are too many people present, and I am supposed to be madly in love. I remember myself just in time and Nehemiah moves closer to me as he realizes this, too.

"Nehemiah stays." I acquiesce and slowly, the guards all trickle out, wary of the other four that Elias brought along. He watches me quietly, his arms crossed, but not tightly. He looks...relaxed.

"Emmaline, what are you doing?" Ezra demands the very second that the doors close and I step towards Nehemiah warily, close enough to feel the warmth of his chest and his breath. It smells like mint. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and I don’t react to it. I see Ezra’s eyes widen to the point of bulging. His disgust is apparent in his tone and in his eyes.

"I am doing what no one else is willing to do but Nehemiah. I am trying to bring peace!"

This only agitates him further. Sure, he probably thought that we would end up together--he and I--but there was a chance, and he should have realized that.

"This is insane. What the hell were you thinking? They are going to kill you." He hisses and Nehemiah takes a long, angry stride forward, but I put a hand out and to my secret surprise, he stops at the first touch of my fingertips to his chest.

"Watch your tongue. Need I remind you who you are talking to?" Nehemiah is shaking in fury, and I move closer to him, attempting to calm him at least a little. When I touch him, the anger drains from him and he is alert, very aware of me as I am of him. We are both afraid of upsetting one another and that works to my advantage here.

"Maybe you do, but I don't know who she is. Emmaline, we are going home." Ezra turns towards the doors, to retrieve his men, but I don't budge. My heart is racing with this small act of defiance, but I am tired of being pushed around. I don't even know who I really am--compared to who everyone else wants me to be.

"No. I am staying the night here, and then I will return in the morning to make arrangements for Nehemiah to arrive at a later time. I expect that you will inform my mother? As of right now, I am eighteen. You can no longer control me. I am of age." My words stop him short and his shoulders tense. I almost feel bad. Once a Genician Royal turns eighteen, they can take the throne. My mother was preparing for it to be my brother, but in his absence it will be me. I am to choose my husband tomorrow, and once I choose Nehemiah, there will be no going back.

And I will choose Nehemiah.

“You cannot--” Ezra starts in, but Elias cuts him off.

“Your queen has issued her orders. It would do you well to obey them, Beta.” He nearly spits the last word, an emphasis meant to hurt. He is second. I alone am first. Elias catches my eye and nods, looking almost...proud. His approval feeds my resolve.

Ezra leaves, but he leaves two of his company behind with me. I give them very strict instructions about what they are to do, and more importantly what they are not to do. They are not happy with it, but I know that they will listen. I am mad at Ezra. I am also mad at myself. When Nehemiah comes in he closes the door behind himself quietly, but I can tell that he is still seething. He wants to talk, I think, so I sit at the window while he paces, slowly cooling himself off. I wonder what has riled him this much.

"Do they always treat you like that?" He bursts, incredulously, and I jump at the suddenness of his voice, but then I sigh.

"Not always. Some can get away with it. Ezra is my Bond." I say by way of explanation, but judging by his puzzled expression, he does not know what I mean. "Not every queen gets married when she is crowned. If I chose not to marry, he would be my adviser. He would act as a leashed king. He would only have so much power. Usually, queens end up marrying their Bonds, but my mother didn't, and neither will I." I shrug, now that he is the only one to see it, and he stops pacing, staring at me for a moment.

"What do you really think about it?" He asks, and his voice is strained. "Emmaline...I know that it is different in-in Genika, but here, people don't hide away. They are free to say what they mean and be emotional. We are good at reading people but you--I can't see into you at all. That night, on the battlefield...you were so calm, but at the same time, I could tell how you were feeling. You were...different. Compassionate." He struggles to explain it and I only shrug again, which amuses him, but also frustrates him I think.

"I think that they don't know how to talk to me." I shrug again. I can't help it. "I 'hide' more often than you would think."

"I doubt that.” He shakes his head. “Do you want me to leave while you change?” He changes the subject before I have the chance to retort. I open my mouth, then close it.

“Actually, I think...I think I need your help. I don’t know how to get it off.” At his puzzled look, I elaborate. “The dress. I don’t know how to take the dress off.”

His cheeks flush. I fight the urge to fidget and he steps around me slowly. His hesitance is all that keeps me from bolting. At least he, too, isn’t sure of us. His fingers are warm against my neck, examining the bodice, and after a bit of fumbling the dress becomes loose. He steps back in front of me and makes a point of turning around while I change swiftly into the warm clothes set out for me to sleep in. He changes a moment later. I risk a glance towards him, his back turned to me, and take in the scars on his toned back. I only see them for a second before I look away.

Now I take my time in exploring the room. It is fully stocked with clothes (in a closet opposite of the bathroom) that fit eerily well as well as shoes, jewelry, and a meager supply of card games, books, and puzzles. The walls are a complimenting forest green with a few large yellow swirls in it. The doors are all different colors--the one leading to the washroom is the same shade of yellow. The door to the balcony is white, the doors to leave are red, the door to the closet is purple, and the door to what will become my room is blue. I have a vanity near the desk, which is also cherry, and it has some powder holders on it. There are small glass bottles of perfume, and a quill and ink. There are also charcoal pencils. I walk along these new, foreign things, and then I settle against the pillows on the bed. Nehemiah takes a seat at his desk after lighting a candle that becomes our only source of light.

“You should sleep,” he tells me, but it is a long time before I do. I lie awake, watching him from the darkness. I close my eyes whenever he glances up at me, until I don’t open them again and drift into an uneasy slumber.