Leaves of Revolution

by Puttroff, Breeana

  “Well, for starters, losing ninety percent of my lifespan, missing all of those days with people I care about…”

  She had a point – he’d never given much thought to that aspect before. “Of course, you people over here only live ten times as long if you don’t get attacked by a rabid animal, or poisoned by some plant, or murdered by your stepfather.”

  “Samuel was murdered in your world, you know.”

  “Still, in my world there are no armed guards who consider beheading me for not saying ‘Your Majesty’ when I talk to Quinn Robbins.”

  Linnea grew quiet, giving him a plaintive look that he liked much, much less than her murderous one. “Is that what you’re so upset about?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Who said I was upset?”

  Her eyebrow arched into an impossibly perfect v. “Who said I was stupid?”

  “Well, if you think I’m so upset, did you consider that it might be because I have an enormous clump of bird poop on my head?”

  His harsh tone didn’t faze her. “No. If you were in a regular mood, you might be annoyed, but you’d see how it was funny, too.”

  “Is that why you followed me? So you could laugh at me about it?”

  Even the accusation of following him didn’t make her flinch. “No. I came to see if you might want some help – or at least some company.”

  He didn’t understand the sudden tightness in his throat; he coughed to cover it up. “You want to help me clean bird poop out of my hair?”

  “Okay. Keep you company.”

  Five minutes ago, he’d wanted nothing in the world more than he wanted to escape from all human contact. Now… he wasn’t so sure. He started walking down the hall. “Are you going to stop trying to make me talk about my feelings?”

  She followed. “Are you kidding? You think I’m going to pass up an opportunity to focus on someone else’s problems?”

  “Go back to the kitchen, Linnea.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’m not sharing a room with anyone, and none of the guards are going to pop in there and give you a hard time. They’ll at least knock first.”

  He whirled around to face her. “You’d let me clean up in there?”

  “Sure. If you’re nice enough to me, I might even let you heat up some water over the fire and leave for a while so you could have a bath. There’s a washroom between my room and the one Quinn and William are in.”

  “I can be nice.”

  “Go and grab your clothes. And a comb. That I won’t share today.”

  “So, are you doing okay?” Linnea asked when Zander showed up in her room with his stuff.

  Without looking at her, he set his clean clothes down on a chair and headed toward the fireplace. A large pot already hung from the hook over the fire.

  “Did you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Linnea! You shouldn’t be carrying that kind of stuff, should you?”

  “Oh, calm down. Someone else left the water in here. I just put it over the fire.”

  “Still…”

  “Zander, nobody has time for me to be helpless. There’s cold water in that bucket right there. You can carry that into the washroom if it’s so important to you.” To punctuate her assertion, she sneezed loudly.

  He couldn’t muster quite the same dirty look as she could, but he tried his best. “Bless you. And you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

  “Yeah, I am. Surely you have a more interesting answer than I do. I’m a ridiculous mess who might not ever be completely okay again – the least you could do is provide a distraction.”

  He stared at the flickering flames of the fire, debating exactly how warm he needed the water to be. “I’m as fine as anyone else – except I don’t know what I’m doing with, well, anything, and I know the other guards wonder exactly what the heck I’m doing here, and everyone in the house is in the Friends of Philip except for me, and I don’t have any useful advice for anyone, and there is bird poop in my hair.”

  Keeping his eyes trained on the fire, he braced himself for her laughter, but it didn’t come. After a long moment, he turned to face her.

  Her expression was soft, serious. “Was that so difficult?”

  He stood and picked up the bucket of cold water to carry it to the promised washroom. “I don’t know if it was difficult, just useless. What does it matter if I’m upset? Nothing changes.” Walking away from her, he went into the adjoining room and took his time dumping the bucket into the small tub. For good measure, he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it before heading back to the room.

  She was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him calmly as he started trying to scrub his hair. “Do you want to join the Friends of Philip?”

  “Linnea, I’ve been in this world for exactly five minutes. I barely even know what that means. It’s some kind of crazy commitment of your life to a cause on a planet I have nothing to do with!”

  She frowned. “You could only commit your life anymore to this ‘cause’ if you donated limbs or were actually killed, you know.” She sneezed again.

  He wished he had a handkerchief or something to offer to her, but he didn’t, and she beat him to it anyway, pulling a white cloth from her pocket. “Limbs might be easier.”

  “Exactly. You know, it’s a step that you moved to Philotheum, and that you agreed to do guard training, and you’ve been a little more pleasant with everyone – most of the time – but when are you going to start acting like you really belong here?”

  “How about when I actually do?”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “So, in your mind, then, never.”

  “Yeah, probably. I don’t belong here. I’m not from here.”

  This time she buried her face in her hands. “This? Really? This has to be the similarity between you and William? It took me forever to figure out what drew Quinn to both of you, and, well, I’m disappointed.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You, and this whole not-belonging here because you weren’t born here nonsense.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you know why people – the guards – are treating you like you don’t belong here?”

  “Because I slip up nineteen times a day and don’t call Quinn ‘Her Majesty’?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s part of it, but it’s more your reaction to it than anything else. You’re a hero who earned your place here as much – or more than – any of the other guards. And you have a legitimate reason to be used to just calling Quinn by her name.”

  “It’s not legitimate to them.”

  “It’s not anything to them. It’s none of their business. It’s between you and Quinn, and if she doesn’t call you out on it, it’s not their problem.”

  “She should call me out on it.”

  “She should. And you should quit doing it, at least in front of them, but that has nothing to do with you belonging here or not.”

  He sucked air in through his nose. “So how do I belong here, Linnea? When I’m not even supposed to be here?”

  She was quiet for a second, pensive. Then she looked at him. “Supposed to isn’t real, you know, Zander.”

  “What?”

  “This world you have in your head, this other place you’re ‘supposed’ to be – it’s not real. Don’t look at me like that. I know the other world exists, but the image you have in your head of yourself being there right now – that’s not real. Trust me. I have a world like that in my head, too… a whole world of what’s ‘supposed to be’ with Ben and decorating a nursery in the castle.”

  He swallowed.

  “But it’s all just imaginary. That’s not how it happened. Ben’s not in this world, and you’re not in that one. Maybe it’ll change in the future, but today is never going to be different. Where you are, right now, is how it is. This is where you belong. Nobody belongs any more or any less than you. And if you would just accept that, you would start to feel it.”

  The
spot he’d been scrubbing on the side of his head was starting to get sore.

  “Yeah, it’s clean now, Zander,” Linnea said.

  He dropped his hand. “So what are you saying I should do, join the Friends of Philip?”

  She shrugged. “I’m saying you’ve already joined, only without the tattoo. Whether you get it or not is up to you, but don’t walk around thinking you shouldn’t be able to or you’re not entitled to. Like it or not, you’re one of us now.”

  The water over the fire was bubbling; Zander grabbed the hook and swung out the little metal arm to bring the bucket out of the heat, and picked up the thick oven mitt. Before he slid it on, though, he looked back at Linnea. “Is getting the tattoo really as painful as the stories about it?”

  “It would get you out of barn duty for a day or so.”

  He chuckled softly. “All right. I’m going to take a bath. It will be nice to actually be clean.”

  She stood up and nodded toward the washroom door. “Good. There’s someone else who needs a good testing of the presumption that talking to me won’t change anything.”

  ~ Fifteen ~

  Communication

  THOMAS PAUSED IN THE hallway, taking several deep breaths and trying to decide what to say first. No good ideas came to mind, but he knew he needed to do it anyway. Linnea was right. Now that they were out of the castle and things were so dangerous, he couldn’t afford to keep letting the situation with Mia disintegrate.

  He either needed to fix things with her, or end them so they could both move forward. And he knew which one he wanted.

  After a final fortifying breath, he knocked on the door of William and Quinn’s room.

  Mia opened it almost instantly, cradling Samuel in one arm.

  “Oh, Thomas. They’re not in here right now. Quinn is meeting with Marcus about something, and William and Nathaniel are talking with Tobias. Or at least they were.”

  He took it as a good sign that she was being informal. When she really wanted to distance herself from him, she was careful to use titles and formal speech. “Actually, Mia, I came here to talk to you.”

  She gestured for him to come in the room, but she took several steps back and held Samuel close to her chest. “I don’t want to fight, Thomas,” she said quietly as he closed the door.

  When he turned around to face her again, her expression had changed; he could see the strength she was trying to exude, the mask that had taken over to show him that he couldn’t hurt her.

  He reached for the coin in his pocket, clenching it so tightly in his hand he was sure it would leave an indentation – maybe that was what he needed, an outline of a rose in his palm.

  “I know,” he said. “I don’t want to fight with you, either. I don’t want to hurt you. I know I have.”

  Her rigid mask faltered for a second; he caught a glimpse of softness in her green eyes, but then the solid shield dropped over her face again. The pain he knew it was hiding sliced something deep inside him, nearly making him gasp.

  Linnea’s words rang in his mind. It didn’t matter how any of this had started or whose “fault” it was. If they kept playing emotional chicken, nobody was going to win, and he knew he had everything to lose.

  So he took a deep breath. “Mia, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distant, and expecting you to take chances I wasn’t willing to take.” He pressed harder on the coin. “I don’t know how you still feel about me, but I want you to know that I care for you, maybe more now than ever. I love you. I don’t know if you’ll have me back, but I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore. Even if you’ve totally given up on me, I want to still be here for you, and to stop hurting you.”

  Now the mask was gone, shattered in a million transparent pieces as she closed her eyes and her hands began to tremble.

  Thomas stepped quietly forward and lifted the baby from her arms, careful not to touch her – he had a feeling that might break her completely.

  Tucking Samuel into the crook of one elbow, he reached into his pocket with his other hand to retrieve a handkerchief and held it up to her.

  She shook her head.

  “That trick always works for your father,” he said to Samuel. “I think I’m maybe not actually as charming as everyone claims I am.”

  That worked, though. Mia let out a quiet chuckle. “No, you’re not,” she said.

  He grinned. “Remember that, Samuel. When you find someone who understands the truth about you, you need to try to keep them around.” He looked over at Mia. “What do you think?”

  She sighed loudly, shaking her head at him. “I might as well. We’re all going to be dead or in prison soon enough anyway.”

  “That’s the other thing I like about you. You get right in there and challenge my optimism. Every time.”

  “At least I know I’m good at something.”

  He’d thought it would be hard, this – or at least he’d made it hard over the last several moons. It sounded hard, anyway, essentially baring his soul to another person. He’d expected the fear and the uncertainty, had even expected to maybe regret doing it, depending on her reaction – but what he hadn’t anticipated was the relief. Now he understood that the freedom of sharing his feelings was worth whatever risk he was taking.

  Smiling, he reached into his pocket again, this time to drop the coin and retrieve the bracelet. He took a step toward her. “Would you consider wearing this again?”

  For a long moment she was quiet, looking at the bracelet and then at him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she finally asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s what I want, but I understand if you’re not sure right now – or if you’ve moved on.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Moved on?”

  “Well, James is a pretty great guy, and Kian – I think he could lift a horse over his head without breaking a sweat.”

  Mia giggled. “I don’t know… I think if I had to choose, I might go for Ethan.”

  “He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “Uh… yeah, actually a little. Or worried – you know, since I’m younger than you. I didn’t know you had a thing for older men.”

  “He’s just nice, Thomas. He helped me get all of the diapers out of the wash tub last night, you know – and even rigged up a line so I could hang them to dry.”

  Thomas closed his eyes. “I deserved that. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “You meant it when you said you’d do it, but it wasn’t your job, and other things came up.”

  He nodded, thinking for a moment about other things his sister had said. “Is it hard for you to talk to me sometimes – because I’m a prince and you’re a baby nurse?”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t know the right way to answer that question.”

  Swallowing hard, he reached over to her, using one finger to lift her chin until she was looking at him again. “However you actually feel would be easiest.”

  She didn’t speak, but she nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t mean for it to be that way.”

  “You don’t have to mean for it to be, Thomas, it just is.”

  “I know. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a prince, you know… then I’d be free to have my spoiled temper tantrum and put equal responsibility on you when things get tough, but I get it. You’re in a much harder place than I am when we argue. I have to remember that and take care of you.”

  “It wasn’t all your fault. I did want to ask for this job, and I didn’t tell you.”

  He reached for her hand, matching the tip of each of her fingers with his fingertips.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He nodded and leaned in closer, taking her whole hand in his, tucking the bracelet between their palms, and bending his face down until his lips just touched hers, brushing them gently. Then he leaned his forehead against hers. “Let’s just don’t do that again, okay? Talk to me, please?”

  She
nodded gently against his forehead, biting her lip and exhaling as she accepted the bracelet, holding it tight in her curled fist. “Can I ask the same of you?”

  “Yes.”

  Just as he went to kiss her again, Samuel squirmed in his arms and let out a squeal.

  Thomas and Mia both laughed.

  “Did you think I forgot about you, Little Man?” Thomas asked, pulling back and bouncing him gently, kissing his soft black hair instead.

  “Actually,” Mia said, “I suspect he’s having a different issue.” She pointed to Thomas’ shirt; a dark, wet circle had appeared in the place where he’d been cradling Samuel close to his chest.

  He sighed. “I love you, too, Samuel. Goodness.”

  “Could be worse,” Mia said, smiling and holding her arms out for the baby.

  “Things could always be worse,” Thomas agreed. “I think I’ll go and find another shirt.”

  “Good idea.”

  Just as he opened the door, though, he heard voices in the hallway – William and Quinn were returning, and Linnea was with them. He pulled the door open wide for them.

  William looked surprised to see Thomas there. “We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” he whispered, casting a glance at Mia.

  Thomas shook his head, mouthing, “We’re good.”

  “Uh-oh, Samuel,” William cooed, walking quickly toward Mia – hiding his quick interaction with Thomas – “did you make a mess for Mia?”

  “It’s no problem,” Mia said. “We have a whole stack of fresh diapers now. Thomas is the one who got hit.”

  Samuel let out a loud gurgle as Mia laid him on the bed – Thomas was certain his nephew was enjoying the joke. “Can I borrow one of your shirts, Will?” he asked, already walking toward the dresser. Now that both William and Quinn were here, he didn’t want to miss any of the conversation they were about to have.

  “It’s still snowing hard outside,” William said, ignoring Thomas’ digging in his drawers. “There are no signs of it letting up anytime soon – not today for sure.”