Legends of Astræa_Cupid's Arrow

by Sophia Alessandrini

  “Papillons—butterflies.” Nicholas pointed at them somewhat surprised to see them out this time of the year. The way he looked at me, I could also feel them fluttering inside my tummy until we reached the top of one of the hills.

  I wasn’t falling in love, was I?

  Once we reached the north end of the vineyards, I was able to see the blue ocean on the horizon. The prince stopped and sighed at the view of the palace. We stopped for a brief moment with him.

  “Is everything fine with His Royal Highness?” Francis asked.

  “No… Yes-s.” He whizzed the last letter, lingering on the word as if the prince wouldn’t be fine for long. “I have many pending and unresolved situations since the depart of my father that need deep and thoughtful considerations. Would you consider reviewing them with me, Lord Tarbelli?” the prince requested.

  Francis nodded respectfully to accept the invitation. “I’m guessing His Royal Highness’s return to the palace hasn’t come easy to him,” Francis said. Not with the Count’s toy soldiers harassing us and beating poor Émil to death. I couldn’t imagine it would.

  “That and I wanted to apologize to you for the way you were treated in my home,” Nicholas said, breaking our introspective thoughts.

  I opened my eyes wide and gasped. “Your Royal Highness, does that mean that you will release my friend free?” I asked, hopeful.

  He tightened his jaw in contempt, moving his horse closer to mine and grinning wickedly at me. “Only if you are ready to accept my marriage proposal,” Nicolas said, reminding me of the condition to Gavril’s freedom.

  The more he wanted my hand in marriage, the less desirable I felt—even less lovable. I was his last choice, and it didn’t mean he was in love. Quite the contrary, it felt almost as if I was a conquest—a challenge—a piece of furniture bought in an auction. Feeling somewhat disappointed, Spica and I rushed past him, like an idiot, without knowing which way to go into the forest.

  He inhaled deeply, moving forward with Summanus in silence after me. A dreadful knot formed in my throat, willing to break the last of my resistance. Crap. Crap. Crap. What was I going to do? I fought it, holding my breathing and then not holding it. I hated to be pressed like this. Francis rushed Saturn and passed me.

  The geography had suddenly changed into rugged hills with forestry. I followed Francis’s lead until reaching a high plateau. From the top of the hills, a welcoming view of a large lake greeted us. The morning light reflected like diamonds over the waters. Francis smiled back at me.

  “Étang de Leon. Lake Leon. This used to be the heart of the Tarbelli territory. In the middle of the Landaise forest and near the ocean,” Francis explained as he caught me contemplating the lake.

  “So this was home to you?”

  He nodded. “Many years ago.” His eyes were shadowed by memories of a very distant past.

  My life also seemed far distant and wrong like this lake. I had to make a point to research more about Francis’s history. I had a feeling that this had been home when he was a child. It had to be difficult to recognize the place after so many years. I wondered how many years ago…

  “The Tarbelli were a Celtic-Druid faction of the kingdom before the Romans conquered with Julius Cesar,” Nicholas said. I turned my gaze back to meet Nicholas who had reached us. Holy crap. How long ago was that?

  “And the Lambert—house of Neustria, whose ancestor came from the noble line of Capetian kings of France—with the help of the Romans, took over my lands.” Francis’s voice grated like chalk on a classroom board.

  Oh. My. Gosh. So the palace was on Francis’s land? Crap. Wait—he said house of Neustria. Where had I seen that name before? Crap. Crap. Count Something-Ruthless’s notes. I looked at Nicholas who was slightly blushing. I shook my head and turned my gaze toward the distant view of the blue ocean on the opposite side. Son of a gun, the Count had put Nicholas on the same list as Marcum and my dad.

  “I believe my grandfather paid you in full after you fought on our side against the moors.” Nicholas was making a poor attempt at responding to Francis’s unsettled mood.

  “He did, but one can never compensate the loss of one’s ancestry with gold. I am just grateful Your Royal Highness will restitute Lady Pearson’s birthright.” Francis moved along, leaving Nicholas and me alone.

  I looked at Nicholas, not knowing whether I should have a little sympathy for what the Count was possibly planning to do to him or for affronting one of Francis’s moods. Or should I just feel like rushing to get one of those priceless porcelain vases in the palace and break it on his head for being such a jerk with Gavril?

  Well, things couldn’t be more awkward. I was tempted to beg for Gavril’s freedom, but it wasn’t the right timing. And if I did that, I would end up accepting to marry him. Yet reason demanded that I didn’t. I would place his life in peril more than he was now. The Count would speed his plans to destroy him—us. Time—I needed just enough time to figure out how to stop the Count from hurting Nicholas. Great, the list was growing again.

  Time had elapsed slowly under the morning sunshine, softening the intensity of our feelings. Nicholas pointed us toward the palace on our way back, but for a while, our conversation was reduced to nods and yeses or nos.

  “I am planning to have our royal traditional masquerade in your honor this Saturday,” he informed me.

  Crap. I had forgotten about the party.

  “The kingdom expects me to make some kind of announcement. It has been a whole year since my father passed away and my mother has disappeared.” He inhaled, pausing to explain further. “The kingdom needs my reassurance, our reassurance…”

  Reassurance of what? Marriage? Oh, God no. No. No. NO. Too soon!

  “Will you concede me the first dance?”

  I sat on Spica feeling like the air in my lungs had been punched out of me. This was it. The moment I have been waiting for to save Gavril and to tell him I wasn’t going to marry him. But I did not want to. Why was I resisting the idea? Why did I want to be with him more than anything in this world, every single time I was with him? Secretly, I realized, I was hosting the idea of being loved and safe in his arms. Secretly, my inner being had been longing for a happy ending. Blasted arrow. It was all but a spell. Francis was a long way ahead of us. Some chaperone he was.

  “Your Royal Highness—”

  “Please, call me Nicholas.” He gave me a sincere smile. This was his olive branch. But we knew well this was more like a tempting, dangerous second try. He was perseverant, I’d give him that.

  I stared at his eyes, finding it hard to swallow all of a sudden. So why was half of me fighting this feeling? Why was half of me rooted to having a happily ever after with Nicholas and the other half was not? He stopped moving, waiting for my answer meaningfully.

  Demyan.

  My hand reached for my lips. I closed my eyes for a moment, resigned to what was about to happen.

  “I cannot dance with you or marry you. I am sorry, Nicholas.” This had to be one of the hardest things to say to anyone under the effects of a love potion, or in this case a mysterious golden arrow. I couldn’t even meet his eyes when I said those words. They hurt more than I cared to admit.

  “Is this because of that mongrel?” he asked me, somewhat stoic but deeply hurt by my rejection. Great.

  “This is because you are holding my best friend hostage. He is like a brother to me. Also, you don’t know anything about me. Of who I really am. I am too young to marry, and frankly, your kingdom or the crown haven’t impressed me.” I rushed Spica, feeling angry with him.

  “He killed two of our best Draugr,” His voice blared at me like Francis’s old Renault claxon in traffic as he rushed to ride by my side again. “He committed the crime in my house, and you seem to ignore the fact that he is our sworn enemy.” I slowed down Spica’s march and Summanus matched our speed.

  “He saved my life by doing that. He never asked to come here, and I don’t think I feel safe in the palace when
the miserable Goth-fixated Count is walking free and my friend cannot defend me from him.” At this point we were both shouting at each other.

  “And that is the single one reason he still lives, and you are not too young for marriage.” He pulled me off Spica onto his lap and forced a kiss on me. I fought him, and we both ended up rolling down from Summanus into a dry water ditch full of overgrown long grasses that cushioned our landing.

  We broke into giggles and screams as we rolled through the long grasses, until we stopped, and our gazes locked onto each other’s in wonderment. Our breaths panted in synchronicity. He smiled at me. I responded back grinning like an idiot, feeling something fluttering over my head. A colorful butterfly. Nicholas brushed it away. My gaze followed it into the sky.

  “Say yes.” His nose touched mine, his eyes pleading like a man asking for his life.

  I wanted to say yes, but I had to free Gavril and Marcum, find the medallion, avenge Mother Clarisse, then go to college, go to parties, have friends—normal friends, maybe, uh, boyfriends. I sighed and looked away from him.

  “Your constant challenge makes me want to rip those sexy pants and—”

  The shadow of Francis eclipsed the sunlight from us.

  “And earn His Royal Highness justly the point of my sword if you did,” Francis intervened, standing above us.

  Nicholas turned his face and nodded back at him in defeat, lifting his weight off me and helping me to stand.

  My embarrassment burned brightly on my face, so I brushed my swede pants to avoid Francis’s glare. He handed me the reins to Spica and helped me back onto my horse. Nicholas took Summanus back and rode ahead of us.

  “Don’t look at me like this is all my fault,” I complained.

  “Ailie, if you want to marry the prince, I will support your choice,” Francis said stoically, looking forward as if this choice was the wrong one.

  I sighed at his theatrics. “Like I ever had a choice.” I reminded him that no one would give me a different choice, except the primordials. Death above marriage. Wonderful.

  “Touché. I was hoping to give you at least five years of training, preparing you for this life. I understand that your fate has been preordained because of your special birth circumstances, but I don’t think you are ready to properly fend for your own or the responsibilities the crown will put on your shoulders.” Francis’s voice faltered. He was genuinely concerned for my future.

  I exhaled deeply with relief. He wasn’t going to make me marry Nicholas.

  “I wish you to be stronger and smarter than our past few queens. They were never taught anything like the male kings, truthfully a tragedy. Before, the Strzyga kingdom took a like to the Romans. Female rights were different. They could be fierce warriors, healers, priestesses, even rulers.” He didn’t believe in surmisable little women, and that granted him a top place in my book of heroes. I had been wrong about him all this time. Francis was really a good person.

  “So at least we agree on something,” I said, smiling at him.

  He nodded back at me. He was my ally.

  “So what do we do about Gavril?” I asked him after a minute. We had fallen out of pace with Nicholas.

  “We’ll figure it out. I am on it.” He winked back at me and trotted faster to pass the prince, turning his gaze on Nicholas once as his single warning. I grinned at his fatherly protection skills. It warmed my heart to know he really cared about me. I followed and caught back up with Nicholas.

  Numerous butterflies fluttered in an amorphous cloud formation and strange rhythm as we rode through and out of the vineyards. I turned my gaze toward the sky and stopped at Nicholas, our hearts beating with intensity.

  “I will concede for your friend to see you while he is at the palace,” he conceded.

  I closed my eyes for a split moment. Grateful for the small generosity.

  “But just, if I am present and your guards are present.” The autocrat had returned.

  “Thank you, Nicholas.” My voice came unenthusiastically. I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. The truth was I was not happy. Gavril was still a prisoner with a bomb on his neck, and I couldn’t forget that.

  “Maybe this would be the way to change your first bad impressions of the kingdom,” he prompted. Not likely.

  “Maay-be.” My voice hesitated. I sincerely doubted it would. On the bright side of things, at least he was making an effort.

  Our horses sneezed and shook their heads, as the playful butterflies fluttered along until reaching the large horse stable. The building was all stone and mortar with heavy wooden doors and large cast-iron hinges, at least a couple centuries old. There were at least four dozen stalls for horses.

  “Do you feel sometimes like your life is not yours?” he asked me suddenly, as we stepped down from our horses and relinquished them to the caretakers.

  “All the time,” I said with honesty.

  “Right now, I feel a prisoner of my own birthright. I should be grateful for the position most beings in the world would kill to have,” he confessed.

  No kidding. I knew of someone possibly trying to do exactly that.

  He sighed wistful and continued. “The truth is that I am tired of having so many enemies. I am tired of everyone keeping me safe, and I am tired of losing the people I love.” His honesty crumbled my poorly kept distance. He had lost his father barely a year ago, and his mother remained missing. The rumor was that Nicholas had spent the past year looking for her without success. I took a step closer to him.

  “Funny, that is exactly how I feel. Do you think most people feel this way sometimes?” Alone. I meant to say it literally, but our conversation was taking a totally opposite second meaning. He locked his eyes on me, and those butterflies were inside my stomach.

  “I doubt it,” he said, taking a step closer to me. I knew then nothing had changed much between us after my open rejection. “But it is an empty position if I am alone,” the prince said, giving me his wicked grin.

  “If His Royal Highness would like to discuss those matters in your study,” Francis interrupted.

  We both jumped out of our skin. My cheeks burned hot again. I avoided exchanging gazes with either of them. We strolled beyond the swimming pool and through a garden path, reminding me of the kissing we had that we shouldn’t have had.

  “Would you join me for afternoon tea, Lady Pearson?” Nicholas’s eyes were full of mirth as he kissed my hand.

  “It will be our pleasure, Your Royal highness,” Francis said, reminding him he was my chaperone and my legal guardian at all times.

  “Until then,” Nicholas said, before departing in the company of Francis.

  Reginald waited dutifully with two other guards to escort me to my chambers.

  Chapter 40

  The palace felt so different, now that the guards in toy soldier uniforms were the minority and the Draugr had explicit orders to avoid the humans. The new personnel were too perfect and serviceable. I wondered how Demyan had acquired an army of these zombie-bots. Were they under a spell, drugs? I made a quick mental note to add it to the list of questions I had for him.

  “I left your outfit for afternoon tea. I shall be back in an hour. I made sure you are left alone,” Enit assured me.

  I nodded back at her, grateful I didn’t have to deal with more people or Draugr. “I’ll have a quick shower. Take your time. Francis is with the old-water-splasher-frog-prince,” I told her, jesting my irritation with Nicholas a little.

  “You did kiss him, so now he is a prince,” she jeered on her way out of my room.

  Ugh. I took my shower, hoping to forget how upset it made me that Gavril was still wearing that choking collar or that Marcum was still downstairs in the dungeon. When I came inside the dressing room, I found a box of chocolates and a card over my vanity table that hadn’t been there before Enit left. I opened the card.

  Thank you for joining me.

  Push the panel inside the hat store case twice.

  Until tonight,
/>   The antichrist

  There was no doubt in my mind of who had sent those chocolates. Demyan Greco. He had called himself the antichrist the first time I broke into his dreams. I had to rid of the card. I ripped it into pieces and flushed it. I had to make a note to get matches next time, if I was to follow Francis’s golden rule about keeping secrets. Next time? I grinned widely.

  I couldn’t stop smiling, even when I perfectly knew I couldn’t fully trust Demyan. I pulled one of the artistic chocolates. I picked the one with the edible gold cover and bit into it. I had never tasted gold before, but I had heard of it from the girls at the academy. The chocolate melted quickly in my mouth. The dark sweetness was infused with rose water and a hint of raspberry. Disappointed I couldn’t taste the gold, I put the second half of the piece in my mouth and waited for it to dissolve, feeling somewhat decadent in this palace, like the queen in Demyan’s dream.

  After I dressed, I looked for the panel inside the hat shelves. I pressed twice. Pop. The panel opened, revealing a secret compartment. Inside, I found a nice leather backpack. Confusion and curiosity assaulted me. I opened it and found five thick stashes of cash in multiple currencies and a large envelope with a passport, a social security card, a birth certificate, checkbook, a black credit card matching the name on the documents, and another small written card from Demyan.

  Keep them secure.

  Use them freely in case of emergency.

  Call me if you ever need my help.

  Yours truly, TA

  I opened the passport. It had a sophisticated Photoshopped picture of my face with medium-length auburn hair. I was Ailie Gregory, from Los Angeles, California, age nineteen. I smiled—I was only sixteen. He used my father’s first name for my new identity. Now the trick was going to be hiding all these from Gavril, Enit, and by consequence, Francis. I hated to hide anything from Francis at this point. I was going to tell him—just not yet.