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“Father?” I called again, and this time something rustled on the floor near the bed, the sound of something scraping against wood followed by a grunt.
I looked toward the Boy, who already had his sword drawn toward the noise. He stepped before me, all guard now as we moved around a pile of clothes and toward the sound.
Toward the man who was curled up there.
“Father!”
He was there, wrapped in a blanket as he awoke from whatever dream had sent him to the floor. His hair was as tangled as mine, his eyes wide as I dropped to my knees, pulling the blankets and whatever else he was caught in off.
The boy raced behind me, but he did not sheath his sword.
“Father! What happened?” Those eyes turned to me, confusion staring back before recognition took its place.
“Elara! My darling girl! It is so–” he stopped whatever he was to say, looking from my dress to the stained bedclothes that he was in. “Oh my! Is it your eighteenth birthday already? I told your mother we needed a party, to celebrate your coming of age, to show the kingdom their beautiful princess. Did I miss it? I’m not dressed for it, but with your Catalysts’ help I think I can be ready in time.” He nodded toward the Boy who finally sheathed his sword with a swish.
My heart tensed, everything he said hitting one painful prick after another. When I was in the throne room the other day, he only saw his little girl, but now it was almost as though he saw me and remembered.
Almost. There was still confusion in his voice.
“He’s not my—” I began before thinking better of it. “Where is your Catalyst, Father? Where is Uncle Jahn?”
“Jahn?” He turned to the hollow in the wall. “Sleeping most like, he’s always sleeping.” Sleeping? Did he not see that nothing was there, my chest felt like it was encased in iron as I looked at the Boy.
“We will have to wake him up too,” he continued, looking from me to the Boy as he tried to move himself to sit, only to slump back down again. “We cannot miss your party, my darling girl.”
“My birthday was last month, remember?” I whispered, pressing my lips together as I helped him to sit.
“Last month?” he asked, those eyes searching as though looking for some proof I wasn’t telling the truth. “Did we have a celebration? I wanted you to have a grand ball, I wanted everyone to see my little girl.”
His hand was cold as he pressed it against my cheek, those eyes still searching, still hoping for some sign that he hadn’t missed it.
“You didn’t miss it,” I lied, each word making it feel as though my chest was about to break in two. “It was a beautiful event. Everyone was there. You were there.”
‘Everyone’ meaning me and the Boy in my room. Batian had cakes from the kitchen delivered to me earlier that day and I had waited until after the sun had set hoping he would return to share them with me, but he never came. So, the Boy and I ate and ate and laughed as we made up stories about all the adventures we would go on someday.
Batian had apologized, Mother had kept him on important business, but we both knew what it really was. What Dalyah had really done.
“Oh good, good,” he patted my hand. “You met him, then? Did you like him?”
“Him?” Another look at the Boy, who stiffened.
“Yes, my darling girl, my beautiful child. So kind. He will love you, he will care for you, I know it. I always want you to be safe. I have fought so hard for that. So hard.” His voice was pained as he patted my hand, his eyes filling with tears.
The vice that was encompassing my chest suddenly felt to be made of knives as his words hit home, the words I had waited so long to hear sunk into all those ripped and broken places in my soul. My father still fought for me.
It should have been a balm, some kind of beautiful light that healed everything, but they just cut and diced as I looked around his room, to the empty space where his Catalyst should be. He didn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this.
“What has she done?” I knew it was her; my mother. The darkness, the cold, it was like looking into a mirror of what she tried to create for me.
How could this have happened?
“He will take care of you. As you deserve,” Father continued, not having heard me, those tears dripping down his cheeks as he patted my hand.
“Father, what are you talking about?” My voice caught, the warmth from the Boy pressing against me as he stepped closer.
“Your betrothed, Elara. He was to be at your party. I signed the contracts. Did you meet him? Do you like him?”
“My betrothed?” I could barely get the words out, even as life started to come back to Fathers eyes.
