Not All Heroes Are Guiltless

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

We are home.

The gates to the capital are a wondrous and comforting sight. I enjoy my ability to leave for missions and make returning home all the sweeter.

When we reach the palace, I quickly jump out of the wagon and get the dismissal wave from Andrew. He ordered me before we started this morning to hurry and clean up from the road to greet my aunt. Everyone else will take the prisoners to General Tolson and dismantle the caravan.

I rush up the grand marble stairs of the palace, knowing my aunt is more than likely in her audience room. She would be busy listening to her subjects and should allow me a chance to get to my quarters. Well, I wished it was the circumstance. I’m on the second flight of stairs when I hear a large commotion in the foyer downstairs, “Princess AmAela, return down these stairs this instant!”

I turn to ice at her order and then slowly turn around with nervousness. I’m dirty and stinky from the road on a hot summer day and am in no position to be witnessed by the Queen and her court. I hold my head up high as I walk down the stairs to the proud smile of my aunt and about fifty more courtesan behind her. “Good. You are still in one piece. We have the summer solstice ball tonight. I can’t visit you until tomorrow. I’ll send some of my ladies to help you with your dress.”

I curtsy hearing the order, but I groan at the notion of attending a ball, “Forgive me, Queen Lana. I do not mean to be offensive. I would really wish to be excused from the ball tonight. I’ve not slept well on the road and fear I will pass out from exhaustion.”

Queen Lana eyes and cheeks flicker a small amount of concern, but quickly is pushed behind the royal theatrical mask the queen expertly achieves when she’s in public spaces. When it’s just me and her, she doesn’t mask her emotions from me. A part wants to talk about the fact the crystal was used on me, but with the court behind her, I feel somewhat ashamed by the idea I was stunned. Lana starts to speak but then holds herself back, “I’m sorry, my dear child. Your presence will be expected. Your request is denied. I am glad to see you’ve returned home. You are dismissed.”

With a quick flick of her hand, she spins around and heads back to her audience room with her court on her heels. I return slower as I head to my rooms. I loathe formal balls. Well, all balls are formal. Aunt Lana continuously informs me that they are necessary for the function of the nation. They keep the nobles entertained and the connections with the people open even though only nobles and the wealthy are invited to these functions.

My rooms are always quiet. Since I don’t live here for long stretches, I don’t have any servants. Lana always sends her own. She also has them maintain the rooms while I’m gone. Lana was angry when I wanted to move out of her quarters when I was ten years old. I had to beg her because I always slept best when I would sneak in for naps.

These rooms were filled with memories of my mother. Her favorite objects are still in these rooms, and I wouldn’t change it. I was eight when she succumbed to the madness of her curse. My dad died when I was three from the same.

In these rooms, their love is almost pliable still. The memories are always comforting. Journals and portraits fill the space, and I can almost imagine the gifts my father showered to my mother as her prized possessions.

I open the door to the bath and start pumping water into the tub. There is no wood to light the furnace underneath, so I guess a cold bath it is. I have already dried off and put on a slip to work out the tangles of my hair when a knock emerges to announce the presence of the queen’s servants. I greet the faces with a comb trapped in my hair. Two of the maids hiss out in distress as they pull me to a chair in front of a vanity to help remove the comb.

More servants bring out a hideous orange hew dress with puffy sleeves and a bodice so low without a back while the skirt wouldn’t even fit through the grand gate much less than my door. “No, I’m not wearing that.”

Lady Altasa, one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, rolls her eyes, “It is the latest fashion. You must look respectable to your position.”

I laugh at her idea of respectability. The dress is what you would expect from a back-alley stage show, which I won’t ever admit being too. I turned my nose up, but Lady Altasa started her argument. One of the servants finally manages to remove the comb from my hair and starts working on detangling my curls.

I fight constantly with Lady Altasa about my nights attire, and she loses her patience with me and walks out of my room, probably to complain to my aunt. Nothing unusual. The servants around me talk me out of my military formal wear because it is ‘unbecoming’ of the crown princess. One wise maid even admitted my mother never wore her military uniform during parties. After ceremonies, she would often wear beautiful dressing and was the belle at every ball. After much irritation, I finally agreed to something else and opened the door to my mother’s closet. It’s still filled with her dresses.

The servants smile in glee while they help choose a beautiful white dress filled with lace. White daisies embroidered hems and a straight satin train. Fashion from the time of my mother’s but I still find it graceful and tactful. The servants help braid daisies into my hair and apply a small amount of animal fat they call makeup, and I’m ready to meet my aunt.

I travel to her quarters and wait in her drawing room while she finishes dressing herself. Right at the stroke of seven at night, she walks out in all her splender.

She’s in a regal red ball gown with gold thread embroidered along the cuffs and collar. She looks so posh and prim just like a queen is expected to be presented. Her dark hazel eyes lit up by her intricate balance of makeup, making her seem more jovial in complexion. She has her hair pulled into an elaborate braided bun, and the largest of rubies adorned her neck.

Her eyes landed on me, and she quickly judged my attire. I want to protest, but then I notice a waver in her expression. She had the slightest tender moment like she’s holding tears back, “You chose one of your mother’s dresses?”

I instantly purse my lips in regret as I recognize my error. She loved my mother dearly, and of course, she would recognize this gorgeous gown. “I’m sorry, Aunt Lana. Lady Altasa’s choice was a hideous affront of orange with too many gaudy gems and no cloth for a back. I thought this would fit better for a princess.”

Aunt Lana smiles full of pride and love, and I’m glad she’s not angry with me. “That dress does sound reputable. No, I don’t mind you like this. It is fitting. For a moment, I thought you were your mother. Now, come. We must greet our guests.”

She grabs a hold of my hand as we walk together to the ballroom. The entry hall is filled, and I stand with my aunt as the people greet her before attending the ball. After an hour and a half and the welcoming is nearly completed. The ball is in full swing with dancing and laughing. Andrew arrives in his formal military attire. He bows toward the Queen. Aunt Lana, with a devious but gleeful laugh, embarrasses me by ordering Andrew to escort me into my first dance of the night without either of our approval.

Andrew lends me his arm as we walk into the ballroom, obviously aware of the eyes of the Queen resting on us. I still feel the need to push him away, but it’s not a strong feeling I can’t ignore. I do, however, feel extremely guilty. Andrew has his family and bloodline to consider, and there are multiple candidates for him to introduce to, which would open connections he could potentially find a wife. He doesn’t need to be babysitting the princess. He’s already doing that as my commanding officer, and now he’s being forced to do it socially. I whisper softly when we reach the dance floor, “I’m sorry.”

Andrew stops on our way and looks at me with the same concern he’s held the last few days, “What’s wrong?”

“That you must babysit me for a living, and you shouldn’t have to babysit me on your night off.” I say as he guides me into the flow of the other dancers.

He looks perturbed and then sighs, “Don’t be sorry. I don’t babysit you, and I didn’t come tonight to babysit you. I came to discern anyone else to pressure you into marrying them. It’s a perk I get to dance with the princess to scare potential competing suitors.”

I look at him and furrow my eyebrows and then swallow, trying to get my dispute from being evident in our conversation from the bystanders, “Andrew, I-“

He snaps before I can even speak. He looked at me, nearly crazed eyes with red protruding around his eyes and forehead he seemed angry, “What happened to Andy, Aela? You’ve been using my full name since you woke up.”

I keep my focus on him, and I can feel my feet stepping on his, but he keeps me from tripping, and I discreetly shake my head in a no, “I don’t know-OW!”

A phantom pain in my chest causes my eyes to blur and haze. It feels like I’m being slammed into a wall. I shook my head to right myself when another pain exploded in my gut and made me heave and nearly vomit. Andrew pulls me out onto the balcony and asks the guards to clear it. The fresh air feels good, and I’m craving the cool breeze and smell of ocean.

I rub my wrists unconsciously as Andrew grabs me a drink. He pulls it to my lips, and it’s a rich summer mead, but it's smoothing down my parched throat.

“Feeling any better?” Andrew says, stroking my arm again and combing my stray hairs behind my ear. At this moment, I’m hit with the realization that he’s in love with me. I’m not sure why the idea is detestable. He’s still waiting for me to answer.

I take another sip of the mead and place the glass down on the balcony, “Yes, I don’t know what that was.”

Andrew lips droop sorrowfully and nods his head, “I’m glad I was here for you.”

I watch him as the voice in the back of my head screams danger. I’m not sure, but it’s starting to have influence on me, and I’m worried about the false pretense of protection, “Andrew, you know I’ve only seen you as a tutor or a friend.”

He drops his hands from me and bites his lower lip again, “Yes, I’ve known that for some time. I’m willing to wait for you, though.”

I glance back into the ballroom, and my stomach is in knots. I don’t want to respond to that at all. Andrew sighs defeatedly, “I’ll tell the queen you were exhausted and needed rest. Go back to your quarters and sleep. I’ll see you at the briefing in two days.”

With a light thank you, knowing my confession hurt him and I’m unsure how to truly respond to his declaration, I turn to leave. But he shocks me when he yells out behind me, “Oh Aela.”

“Yes?” I look back with curiosity.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says with tears shining in his eyes. I leave without a response.