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She hurries down the halls, feet soundless against the aging stones. Threadbare carpet, dark as stained blood, lap lifelessly at her ankles. Golden strands, pure as the rising sun, brush past her lips, stinging her eyes, bothersome and frustrating. Impatient, she tucks them behind her ears with fumbling hands and clumsy fingers, so unlike the sly, clever palms that belong in sitting rooms and banquet halls.
The night is quiet. Torches no longer illuminate the corridors. Still, she hurries, nightdress hitched past her knees, feet soft and bare. She rounds a corner, heart hammering in her chest. There is nothing but the sound of her panting breaths. No one to hear them but herself.
A door creaks, hinges unoiled. The murmur of clothing against uncut grass, just around the corner. She inhales, sharp and gasping, chest cold —
“Wait!”
The rustling stops.
By the doorway, a lonesome figure stands, head bowed. Hair she knows is black as a raven’s wing, silky smooth and fine, covered by the fold of a hood. A travelling dress, light and inconspicuous, like coal burnt low in the morning. A small knife, strapped innocently to a forearm, gilded in gold and silver, quick to be wielded and quick to be sheathed. But most of all…
“Wait.”
Those eyes. Iridescent in the moonlight, captivating as they blink, turned towards the world.
“Please. Don’t go.”
Her hands are clasped to the ribbons of her nightdress, lace rounded against the curve of a breast. The hummingbird in her chest is fluttering as though about to take flight, rattling against the confines of that unforgiving ribcage. Her lungs reach and reach, yearning desperately for a breath of sweet, fresh air, just two steps away, so close, yet so far.
There is no response. The figure stays still and silent, an unmoving silhouette against the clouded sky.
“Please, please stay with me. I cannot live without you. My heart cries when I am not with you. My hands still and my mouth goes silent. My lungs ache for the sweet sound of your laughter, every fresh smile and crinkled eye. I cannot live without you.”
Words flow, unbidden and unstoppable, encouraged by her traitorous heart. Everything in her is screaming to fulfill her duty, to assume her place, to leave this be. Yet, her heart longs for a different future. Was it not her heart that had left her awake and staring, waiting for heavy footsteps to fade away? Was it not her heart that had led her to slip out of bed in nothing but a thin chemise, stealing down the halls like a thief in the night? Was it not her heart, in its infinite wisdom, that had chased the last vestiges of doubt away, took her hand and guided her faithfully down this path?
“I would give you anything. I would follow you to the ends of the earth—”
“Would you?”
She does not dare to breathe.
“I— Excuse me?”
“Would you follow me to the ends of the earth? You say you want me, you desire me, you crave me — yet you will not follow me.”
The figure’s head raises, turns.
“Would you lay down your duty and come with me now? Would you set down your pride, your dignity, your throne, just to be with me? Would you give up your family, your suitors, your dinners and your teas, your dresses and hairpins and rouge, just to be with me?”
She is silent. Stunned. It is unfathomable, unthinkable, unknowable, what life would be like without these things. Without her home, her people, her place in this world.
“I… I could not possibly…”
Their eyes meet.
“I thought so.”
The figure starts to turn, head bowed once more.
“But… I cannot live without you.”
Her voice is a pitiful thing, feeble and weak, pathetic and green in the face of the world.
The figure’s head remains bowed, yet when she speaks, it is with a confidence far beyond her unassuming stature.
“Darling, it is I who cannot. Yet you will not have me. There is nothing for me to do but go.”
She steps closer, raises her cloaked eyes. They burn with sorrow, burnished and bright.
“And now, I shall leave you.”
The shadow of a caress hints against her cheek.
“Goodbye. Pray you never find me again.”
There is nothing left to say.
“I love you.”
But she is gone, only a whisper of wind stealing these last words unheard.