Fiona’s jaw dropped and froze there.
“Say something,” he put his hand on her elbow, shaking her gently.
“Your highness?” it was a statement but it sounded more like a question.
“Call me Archer,” he could see her pull away. Their relationship was sinking into the royal and civilian, but he didn’t want that. Fiona had nursed him back to life and he owed her his life.
“I can’t do that,” she took a couple of steps back in retreat. “You are the Crown Prince, and lost to me forever.”
Archer was about to go after her but he saw Samson. He looked like he had been watching everything that had been unfolding between him and Fiona. He walked over to him, ready to go on his crusade alone. Sure that Samson was angry with even though he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to his daughter.
“I’m sorry,” Archer apologized before a single word was exchanged between them.
“What happened?”
“I told her who I was,” he sighed. “I told her I was Archer, Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdom.”
“It’s a good thing you did. She needs to know that any fantasies she has for the both of you cannot happen,” Samson marched back into his hut.
“Are we set to leave?” Archer didn’t want to know what he meant by ‘fantasies’. He was still trying to mend his already broken heart. He thought he had been betrayed by the woman he loved, he wasn’t about to go down the same road one more time.
“We move out tonight. Hopefully the dark will cover us. We don’t want anyone to know what we are up to,” Samson began to throw some things together that they would go with on their journey.
Archer sat outside, watching the little colony he had called home for a few weeks. Everything seemed peaceful easy. He was tempted more than once to just stay here, let everyone think he was dead. But he had to protect his family from whatever plan he thought Adalia had.
When the night fell, he used his thumb to block out the moon. He looked at the stars littered around the silver flames. Each and every one of them was like his people and they were waiting for him.
“Archer!” Samson tossed a scabbard his way.
Archer drew out the sword inside and he was stunned to see that it was his. His fingers smoothed down the silver blade, over the engraved symbols and embedded white diamonds. He wrapped his fingers around its tilt, and then flexed it around, slicing into thin air. “I can’t believe you had this all this time.”
“A day after Fiona brought you here. I went to the place where she found you. That was lying in the grass.”
“Thank you,” he replaced the blade back into its sheath and tied it around his waist, vowing that it would never leave his side again.
Archer was preparing to leave. But he hadn’t seen Fiona since that afternoon. He had to see her, apologies for what could not be and thank her for what she did for him. He dropped his bag at the door and walked to the well where he expected to find her with her friends. But he met Lola first. He lifted the little girl in his arms and hugged her.
He then put her down and said. “Be a good girl.”
“Are you going to come back?”
Archer wasn’t sure what the answer to that was. Of course he wanted to come back but he didn’t know what was waiting for him at the South or at home. He couldn’t make any promises just in case he died.
“Are you?” Fiona was standing behind her sister wearing the same expression Archer was.
“I can’t promise you that. But I will try,” he looked into her eyes and could see the glint of tears in her eyes.
Fiona pulled Lola back, and with a cold firm voice she said. “You better leave then.”
***
Adalia sat next to her bedroom window staring out at the moon. Her heart was heavy. She couldn’t believe that she would be waking up to a morning where she would have to marry Xander. The thought wasn’t exactly repulsive to her, besides she did agree to marry him months back, but she felt wrong. She had seemed to reach a state of hopelessness and despair. Without Archer she had spun into a panic of loneliness and even debated suicidal thoughts. But she couldn’t be that selfish. She had to think of her people and marrying Xander was a way of showing them that she was dedicated to them.
She heard her door screech open. Adalia turned around to find her mother standing at the door a solemn look on her face. Immediately she thought that her father had grown worse.
“Is father alright?” she jumped up to her feet and marched to the door.
“He’s fine. He can’t seem to keep anything down. But strangely enough all that throwing up seems to be doing him some good,” Liora pulled her towards the bed. “I’m worried about you.”
“Why?” she grinned back despite herself. “I’m fine, excited even. Tomorrow I will be taking my vows.”
“I know you are lying. You don’t want to do this. The only reason you are is because your father asked you to,” Liora felt guilty. She was never forced to marry Gabrielle. She was in love with him and by good grace he was too. They got married without facing any opposition from anyone. Now here was her daughter mourning the death of the man she loved while being pushed into another man’s arms so that she could claim her birth right as Queen.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” she was trying to give her an option, to make sure Adalia knew that she could change her mind. It was her way of making her feel like she had a choice and also a way of relieving some of the guilt crushing down on her heart.
“You know I don’t. We are at the brink of war with the rebels. The soldiers don’t think I can lead them without a man by my side. I am going to give them exactly that,” she walked towards a wall and stared at it. Reminding herself that any decision or choices she would want to make would be met by a wall. She was caged in by her duty towards the Southern people. She wasn’t born with choices but duty weighing down on her shoulders.
“Adalia-,”
“Mother please!” she swallowed hard then spun around to face her. “I need my beauty rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long taxing day.”
Liora left the room without uttering another word.
Adalia returned to the window. She looked out and saw what was awaiting her. The death and frailty of the cups that held passion. The droughts of laughter and all the life of woman split into dust. She blew a kiss out to the moon. “I love you Archer.”