Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Blood On My Hands

A week passed and my mood improved only slightly, I spent most of my time either in places where I couldn't find my new nemesis, like my room, or those where nothing reminded me of him, like the library. I had never been a great reading fanatic, but in my defence, I had also been sent into the working world with a minimum degree.

Sometimes, to be honest, always, I felt ashamed of my education. I had just been in a good mood, leafing through a large almanack on plants, the book already very yellowed and dusty, but I liked pictures more than writing when I froze on a page. It was written in pencil I SEE YOU. It could theoretically have been addressed to anyone, yet I recognised the letters, they had sprung from Leopold's hand.

Now my friends were only fit to mop the floor, but instead of fearing it, as I should have done, I dismissed it with an almost indifference. Yes, he saw me, had contacts in this castle. If he was trying to wear me down with that, then that was the wrong way to go. It was doubtful, however, that he knew which thick book I was looking into out of thousands and thousands. I closed the almanack and leaned against one of the shelves. I was in the twilight of the room, enough shade not to be seen and still enough to read, or in my case leaf through.

Judging by the position of the sun, it must be afternoon, the dust dancing through the brown to gold dipped room. I took my hand and removed the glove, my fingers playing with the beam of light, trying to catch the warmth. Slowly I slid down the shelf and pulled my legs towards me. What was I going to do? I remembered Leo's plan of revenge. Overthrow the monarchy, that was very original. Still, going over the subject again and again had no point.

I'd been avoiding my task for three weeks. I had long since realised that I conflicted with interest. I rose and decided to put the plan into action, then my suffering here would finally end. Nicolas had it coming to him while we were starving outside, he had everything he could wish for. That it was wrong and would haunt me forever, I knew, but I didn't want any more. Blood was on my hands, my fate sealed.

I strolled through the library room, past globes, open maps and protractors, no one ever seemed to clean up the place. My goal was clear, a history book was needed. I had to be tactical about it, maybe I could find out something about his family that I could use against him. In addition, I could write down everything that had gone wrong in the past revolutions. I almost felt euphoria. Nicolas was a naïve little wretch who needed a strong hand to guide him, that was his weak point. I climbed the ladder and found myself on the top floor, hoping to find what I was looking for. I did. "The Story of Mehr" was written in curved letters on the spine of a book.

I pulled it out and began to study it. One thing my school had done right, I could read, albeit very slowly, but well enough not to forget everything. I heard a crack and looked up from the ancestral tome. It didn't sound like old wood making noise. I cleared my throat: "Leopold?" No answer, either I was getting paranoid or I was getting a fever, I looked back into the book, by now I was in the 12th century, this family was really deep-rooted, I couldn't cope with that in a thousand years.

The sound came again. I squinted and stood up without the book, I had put a bookmark in it beforehand, and held on to the balustrade of the curved metal staircase, "Just show yourself and don't scare me," I said down into the room. My hair was down and swinging slightly over my torso. A person did indeed emerge from the third wall of shelves ----, but this face did not belong to Leopold. It was the prince himself. I swallowed.

He was dressed casually, his hair dishevelled, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He looked tired. "I didn't know you were here," I curtsied quickly. I guess my work was done for the day. Nicolas continued to look at me, making no move to leave: "Who is Leopold?" No friendly hello, nothing. I bit my lip, what could I say now? "I was just so engrossed in the book, it happens once in a while...Prince Nicolas." I refrained from curtsying again.

He cleared his throat, trying not to make the conversation seem indifferent: "What are you doing here all alone, Miss Woodstock?" We both seemed unwilling to reopen the already established basis of trust. He put his hands in his suit pockets. He was so different from what I knew him to be, it almost hurt me. I said nothing in response and immediately asked a counter-question: "And you, what are you doing here, don't you have to ensnare girls?" He sighed, apparently he didn't want to talk to me. Why didn't he just leave it at that? "I'm working, Miss Woodstock," he replied. I raised an eyebrow, he probably couldn't see that either. "Working?", I replied, confused.

He ran his hand over his face: "Yes, just imagine, that's what I do pretty much every day, I'm going to be king of this country one day, this profession has to be worked hard for. Yet you still haven't answered me what you are doing here" I would have liked to answer work, but I kept it to myself and said instead: "Reading...but I'd rather not bother you any further for once."

I began to descend the stairs. My hem slid heavily down the stairs and rustled slightly. I was wearing linen, rather high-necked midnight dress with bobbin lace. My sleeves were cuffed at the bottom and the hem was ankle length. I was about three steps from the floor when I was startled by his voice: "Belle...wait." I swallowed and tried not to look at him. I walked faster and bumped into him the next moment, he had stood in my way.

"Forgive me, I was an idiot, I know that now," he whispered. My hand tightened on the parapet. Did he have to make it so difficult for me: "Please let me go." I didn't want to look him in the eye. I heard the hesitation in his voice: "I hope you will forgive me one day." I kept silent and said in my mind, I hope YOU forgive me one day. "I understand..." he released me. I hurried past him, trying to hold back my tears until I was outside.

"I'll let you go, you can leave the palace today if you want." My hand hovered over the door handle. Don't turn around, just don't turn around, Belle. He was a good man, I couldn't kill him. That's why I hated myself now for the sentence I said: "No... I'm staying." Without waiting for his reaction, I yanked open the door and scurried to freedom. As fast as my feet could carry me, I ran across the corridors. Just away, I just wanted to getaway.

The tears and the pent-up weight made their way and I knew I would have blood on my hands again.

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