Bab 28: Harshness of the royal family
Music Recommendation: Remove the complexities- Peter Sandberg
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The silence that had been hanging heavily in the room broke into murmurs. The Vizier ordered the guards,
"Take her to the underground dungeon and clean this up."
"Yes, Your Excellency!" The guards responded.
King William then turned to look at his guests with a smile and said, "Let us move to another room to continue the celebration."
Anastasia couldn't move from where she stood, as it wasn't far from where Charlotte had been beheaded. Shock had overcome her body, and her mind was frozen. She knew the Blackthorns were cruel and heartless, but they had taken someone's life at the thought of them insulting their family.
The murmurs of the guests turned into chatter as they started to make their way out of the room. While some were speechless over what just happened, most didn't care and went back to conversing.
"That's what happens when you meddle with the royal family. It serves the lowly maid right to think that she could get away with such atrocious behaviour," one of the nearby guests remarked.
"Did she draw it purposely?" Someone else asked. "Perhaps she didn't know how to draw in the first place?"
"But she drew Queen Sophia just like she wanted it. It was definitely on purpose!" Another remark came.
Princess Niyasa's face had turned bright red in humiliation. It was because Charlotte was her maid, and she had let the lowly servant insult her grandmother. Queen Sophia demanded in a low voice,
"How could you let something like this happen, Niyasa?"
"Allow me to reprimand her, Queen Sophia," Lady Maya bowed, and Queen Sophia glared again before stepping out of the room. The first concubine of King William then turned to her daughter, who opened her mouth to speak, "Not a word here. Follow me quietly."
When it was time to leave the room with the other guests, Anastasia was walking past where the horror in the room took place, but her eyes couldn't stay ahead and they moved to look at Charlotte.
Anastasia's eyes fell on the blood on the floor, which had spread around the headless body. Her stomach twisted, and unable to keep still, she hurried out of the room. Her feet moved quickly before she stepped into the garden she had visited earlier. She walked as far as her feet could take her away from the barbarous people.
She reached a small circular wall made of dark grey stones that had intricate designs on it, and at the centre was a statue of a woman who looked like she was covered in a veil, but it was the stone work.
Anastasia pulled the veil away from her face. Placing her hand on the little wall, her stomach hurled what she ate this noon.
"H—how could they kill h—her…" Anastasia questioned herself. "They killed her…"
Anastasia's lips trembled. Her vision turned blurry as tears spilled from her eyes. She couldn't believe that Charlotte was dead. Killed without a second thought or any mercy. She closed her eyes to control her emotions, but her tears didn't stop.
She still remembered the day Charlotte had first been brought to the palace and approached her.
'Why are you sitting alone?' Asked a young Charlotte after seeing Anastasia in the corner of the kitchen. 'Let me sit here to keep you company.'
'Anna, look! They are distributing sweets; let us go have some!'
Anastasia knew that Charlotte's lie wouldn't get too far and would end in her being punished. But she was beheaded.
"Why did you steal them… lies, oh my god…" Anastasia felt a chill wrap around her body as she realised the sharp edge of a capricious sword she was standing on.
If and when the royal family found out about her lying to them, they would behead her too! Thinking of Charlotte's fate and what might happen to her, she was terrified, and her body was shaking all over. She had to escape… she couldn't stay in this cruel place. Though she was out in the garden now, she felt suffocated, as if invisible walls were restraining her.
Anastasia felt breathless. Her body swayed, ready to stagger backwards, when she heard someone say,
"Easy there."
Dante stood behind her, holding her arms to support her.
Anastasia caught her footing. She turned to look at him, her eyelashes holding specks of the tears spilling from her eyes.
For the very first time, Dante's eyes fell on the young woman's face, which was not hidden behind the veil. Her brown eyes were moist, and she looked scared. Her cheeks and nose had turned pink. Her parted lips tried to breathe, but she was finding it hard, considering how her chest heaved. His dark eyebrows furrowed, and he instructed her,
"Take slow breaths. Focus on my voice."
It took a good minute before Anastasia's anxious heart stopped beating wildly. She whispered, "I am good now… thank you." Stepping away from him, she leaned her lower back on the small circular wall. She stuck her hand into her pockets to find a handkerchief, but there wasn't one.
"Here," Dante said, offering his handkerchief to her.
Hesitatingly, Anastasia took it from him and used it to wipe her face. She said, "Thank you. I will be fine by myself, Prince Dante."
"You look far from fine. My grandmother wouldn't be happy to know that I left you on your own. Not to mention, I could use some space myself," Dante replied, watching the young woman closely, who looked heartbroken. The side of the garden they sat in was quiet. He noticed her clutching the handkerchief on her lap and asked her, "Is this your first time seeing someone executed?"
Anastasia didn't look at him but nodded in response. She asked him, "Forgive me, for I don't intend to offend, but isn't death too cruel as a punishment?"
"Trust my words when I say that there are far more cruel things than death, milady," Dante stated, his voice calm and collected as if death didn't affect him. He said, "The maid committed the mistake of mocking not just anyone but the highest queen of this kingdom."
Anastasia had forgotten Dante was a Blackthorn, and he had a reputation for being heartless when handing down punishments.
How could she forget? Just because she had worn an expensive dress, and was talking to the princes and princesses, didn't erase the truth that she was a servant lying to them. She remembered her sister mentioning Dante killing the guard who had tried to escape with the older courtesan.
A sliver of fear crept into Anastasia's heart. She told herself not to show fear, because that would only reveal the truth in front of this man. She asked him softly, "When were you able to adjust to the sight of death?"
Dante's head tilted as he watched her. She was definitely a beautiful young woman, but attachment to beauty meant very little to the eldest son of the Blackthorn king. Stepping closer to the circular wall, he leaned against it, while slipping his hands into his long coat. He responded,
"Probably when I was eight or nine." At this, Anastasia's eyebrows rose subtly. But then, he lived in a palace where people were cold and cruel. She heard him say, "And it is hard not to experience death during wars. You bathe in blood that belongs to your enemies or your soldiers, and it changes you."
"I am sorry," Anastasia whispered, for Dante, at this moment, felt more human than what others said of him.
"You don't have to be," Dante's response was curt, and she turned to look at him, where he had crossed his legs. He said, "It is a prestigious position, to fight for your kingdom, and bring back the enemies' heads."
… and there disappeared the human part of him, Anastasia thought in her mind.
"You do not agree," Dante remarked, and it was more of a statement than a question.
Anastasia pursed her lips and replied, "I think every life needs to be cherished, no matter its insignificance. And everything can be fixed… changed."
When her eyes fell on Dante's face, she noticed one corner of his lips pull up, and she would have mistaken it for a smile if it weren't for the unchanging look in his eyes. He said,
"If I am not wrong, the maid wasn't the one who sketched the things that were displayed yesterday. She lied, and my father probably knows it. Letting one person off the hook gives an opportunity for others to commit similar offences, which is why it's better to deal with such things swiftly."
Anastasia frowned and carefully asked, "How can you tell?"
"That it wasn't her?" Dante's midnight eyes didn't break away from Anastasia's doe-like eyes. His words were vague, "Let's just say that it is experience. When you are working with intruders and liars… you can spot the truth, like how your sister isn't allergic to the weather and the sand. Or that you didn't have breakfast in your room this morning."
Her heart hitched at his words, and she gripped the edge of the wall to calm her heart, feeling its cool surface.
Anastasia started, "I—"
"I hold no interest in knowing your reasons. You are a guest in the palace, whose visit is short. And what we are doing is only a charade to stop others from bothering us," Dante's words were curt. "So be at ease," he said, before looking away from her.
They stood like that for several minutes under the stars, surrounded by silence.
Anastasia grew worried at the thought of her lie coming to light, and she stayed quiet. Having not slept the entire night and having cried a while ago, she felt her eyes growing heavy and adjusted her posture so that she wouldn't doze off.
On the other hand, Dante noted how he didn't mind this young lady's company. It was probably because she wasn't throwing herself at him. It was refreshing for once and made her seem tolerable. He knew about her not having breakfast because before leaving the palace, he had questioned Mr. Gilbert if any guests had their meal served in their room, and the answer had been no.
Anastasia and Dante turned to look at each other at the same time. He pushed himself to stand straight and said,
"We should return inside."
While shifting and changing her posture, Anastasia moved her bottom further back, such that when she went to stand up, instead of moving forward, she felt her body move backwards. Dante, who noticed this, moved to catch her, and she caught hold of the front of his coat with her hands to prevent her fall.
But that ended up pulling him into the fountain of water behind them that she didn't know she had been leaning against. Water splashed out.
Anastasia gasped, her eyes wide and awake. Because of the water in the fountain, her body and clothes were soaking wet.
Before her hovered an equally drenched Dante, water dripping down his hair and face. There was a look of annoyance and irritation in his eyes as he glared at her now.
"It seems like regular baths don't appeal to you, Lady Flores," Dante remarked, his eyes on hers. "Or do you prefer company," his words taunted with slight irritation.
Gulping the nervousness, Anastasia apologised, "I—I didn't mean to pull you, Your Highness."
Dante pulled himself away from her and climbed out of the fountain, running his hand through his wet hair to push them all back.
Anastasia struggled to get out before she succeeded, and fixed her dress that had lifted.
On the other hand, Dante stared at Anastasia, where water continued to pool around her feet, similar to him. She looked embarrassed while she held her hands in front of her and shivered. Her clothes now stuck to her body like a second skin, revealing the dip and rise of her womanly curves. But her wet dress revealed more than just the outline. For some reason, the sight of her provoked his usually controlled thoughts, and he clenched his jaws.
Anastasia suddenly felt something thrown at her. She looked at her hands and noticed the brown coat. She heard Dante order,
"Wear it. You will need it on your way back inside."
When Anastasia looked up at Dante, she caught sight of his white shirt that had turned transparent to reveal the skin and muscles underneath his wet shirt. Water drops dripped down his neck and disappeared behind the fabric. He turned his back to her and her eyes fell on his broad shoulders. He said, "I will be going in first."
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