Fan Fiction ❯ Spirit of the Dragon ❯ Realization ( Chapter 14 )

Chapter Fourteen

After Crowe left the dining hall, she ran wildly through the snow. She had to get away from him.

Cold wind blasted at her face and clouded her sight. It sent her on a haphazard course, so it was a struggle to locate her tower. But when she did, she swung the door open and slammed it behind her.

Crowe leaned back against the hard wood. She felt dizzy. Her heart was racing.

This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to feel this way.

What am I doing? Her eyes closed and she fumbled for the knob, wanting to hold onto something solid. It steadied her a bit. But her heart was still thumping madly in her chest. What's happening to me? Why can't I breathe? She couldn't get attached to this place. She was waiting for her kingdom to rescue her. She was waiting for Rono to come. If he didn't die in that fire with the rest of them…And then she scolded herself: No! Don't think that way! He's still alive! I know he is! Just when she thought she was over him, Acanthus had returned with news of his army's destruction. And hers too, it seemed…Poor Dakarai. And Verrik, and Caleb…Somehow their deaths had never seemed quite real to her. Her friends. Her followers. Killed in a fire. A fire caused by Acanthus! For the first time since her arrival in Azalea, she felt angry with him. Burning tears streamed down her face. I can't stay here any longer!

She went on a rampage, throwing books and candlesticks and anything else of value onto the bed. It looked like she was losing her mind.

She thrust open the wardrobe doors and tore a dress from its hangers. Next she shoved everything into the cloth, madly collecting the corners into a bundle.

Then it hit her like a heavy blow. Have you forgotten? She was a prodito. The Gardrothians would discover it. They would catch her and brand her and banish her to the Wastelands. Her name would be disgraced in the Libri rae Hira. Never again would she be able to set foot within a thousand miles of the Capital.

Crowe fell against her bed-stand and sank to the floor. She felt defeated. Hollow. Empty. Bitter tears splashed upon the rug. Stop crying! She was furious with herself. She thought she was done with that. Stop being so weak! She angrily cast the bundle aside, letting its contents clatter across the wooden floor. One of the books flew out to hit the wall. She sighed, annoyed with herself, and went to retrieve it. The golden binding was torn and some of the pages were missing.

There was a knock from outside.

"Go away!" She snarled, mostly upset that she had ruined Acanthus' gift.

"Please, Crowe…just…I need to talk with you…"

Crowe sat down in a heap, wiping her eyes with a hand. She felt like a child. "Just go." It was a whisper this time.

"Please…" The prince sounded desperate. "It will only be a moment."

She groaned and put her head in her hands. "Fine, if it means you'll stop bothering me."

There was a creak and he stood in the doorway, white snowflakes fluttering into the room. "Are you alright?" He had not expected her to be sitting on the floor. His eyes traced the line of clutter. "What happened here?" He shut the door and went to her, sitting down with the swish of his cloak.

Crowe sniffed and closed the damaged book. "I was-I was going to leave. I was going to get out of here and then I remembered…" Her voice wavered, to her irritation, "…that I had betrayed my country to help this damn kingdom!" She tossed the book aside. "Do you know what they do to traitors, Acanthus? They tattoo their foreheads and send them off to their doom! They spit on them! Shun them! They end up exiled to a barren wasteland---clinging to what's left of a pathetic existence!" Her whole body was trembling with fury.

Without uttering a word, he reached to pick up his discarded offering. His face was unreadable as he leafed through the crumpled pages.

"Are you listening to me?!"

His voice was calm: "Of course I am."

"Then why aren't you saying anything?!"

He was carefully avoiding her glare. "I decided to wait until you finished your ranting."

"I'm not ranting, you pretentious prick!"

"That was not what I meant…" He appeared to be reading, but she knew very well that he was not.

"Why are you here?" She snapped.

He licked his finger and turned the page. "Is there an answer that will not upset you?"

"What's wrong with you?! Why don't you get mad when I yell at you?!"

He shrugged. "Probably because I am deserving of your words, no matter how abusive they may be."

This admittance caused her anger to ebb away. She growled, although it was mostly out of shame. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"For shouting at you on your birthday. For ruining your present…" She took it from him and stroked the cover. "I love this thing, you know. I didn't mean to wreck it. It seems I destroy things when I'm angry."

His solemn response surprised her: "So do I."

She looked over at him, sensing the severity of his words.

He smiled sadly. "Things such as these are easily fixed, dear lady. Be glad that your rage is of an ordinary nature. It does not take over your soul, and fill your mind with hatred, and erupt in ravenous flames…" His gaze moved upward, and his eyes drifted out of focus, as if he were remembering something very long ago. "Did you hear of the first time my temper took hold of me?"

"No…" She said softly.

"I was only nine. But I was damned spoiled, and had tantrums, I am embarrassed to admit…" He shook his head. "The nursemaids hardly knew what to do. Many of them refused to deal with me. There was only one, who really had the patience. Her name was Datura. She was a…friend of Frostleaf's. She was like a mother to me." He let out a sigh, recalling the whole horrible event. "One day, she would not let me go out to play. She told me I had to study my lessons. It is all part of being an heir, you know. We must learn every aspect of our future kingdom. It is a process which takes many years…

"But I refused to accept this. I screamed at her and told her I hated her, and then before I knew it," He shook his head, "my room was on fire. And she was trapped behind the flames. I went to get Frostleaf. But by the time we quenched them…" He was unable to finish, but there was no need.

"That's awful." Crowe whispered. "What a terrible thing to experience as a child."

He tried to compose himself. "I had kept the spirit, as I call it, under control after that, until you and I met on the battlefield. I know you do not remember, but it was frightening, what I almost did to you…And since then it has consumed me once more.

"I do not think it is a dark spirit, so much as an angry one. It feeds off of my anger and uses it to destroy what it believes are my enemies."

Rono…Crowe looked away, biting her lip.

"I know you said you had forgiven me…" His voice was gentle, "…but somehow I cannot quite believe you. And I doubt I would forgive myself, if I were in your situation." He cocked his head at her. "What are you thinking, Crowe?"

"I'm thinking…that it will take me a little time, before I can accept my losses."

"That is understandable."

"But I am also thinking, that I really can't blame you for what happened. We're in a war. My armies would have trampled your towns, had the spirit not overtaken you. Come to think of it, I'm upset they went through with the plan. I can't believe Ronori led them on."

"I think I know why he did." Prince Acanthus' voice was grave. "Is he the father?"

Crowe gaped at him. "But how…how did you know?"

"The way you spoke his name." He ran a hand through his hair, letting it slide through highlights of gold. "I would gladly toss away my title to have someone mention me so fondly." He was frowning. "It seems to me a very rational thing, for him to burn my cities. For you see, dear Crowe, you looked very much dead when your army retreated, and I imagine this news traveled to him. It is reasonable to assume he lashed out by terrorizing the innocent. It is reasonable to assume he did it as a personal attack on me."

"So you think he was caught in the fire?"

"I cannot say that he was, because I was not very much myself when the flames hit. It is possible some could have escaped."

Neither spoke for a while. Crowe finally said in a quiet voice: "You're very perceptive, aren't you?"

"It is a vital trait for an heir. Without it, kingdoms turn to dust." He needn't explain why.

Crowe yawned. As it turned out, she was tired after all. "Shouldn't you be at your party?"

"There is little point, without a date." He gave her a wistful look. "I had hoped, to at least dance with you."

"I can't dance." She said flatly. "I would have stepped on your feet and made you trip."

"Then I had hoped to stumble with you."

She laughed nervously. "Well not tonight, Acanthus. Perhaps we can wreak havoc on the dance floor some other time."

"I would like that." She couldn't tell if he was joking. "Well, goodnight, Crowe, or should I call you Nightingale?"

Crowe blushed as he extended a hand and helped her to her feet. "What are you talking about?"

"I hope you do not think, that I consider your singing merely `good'. It was a moment of taciturnity. I was quite under the spell of your siren song." He had not let go of her hand.

"You flatter me, Acanthus."

"Nightingale."

"Please don't call me that." She sounded so dismal that he didn't dare question her.

"Sorry. I thought it was only befitting." He gazed at her a moment. "You look very lovely tonight."

"Thank you." It was no more than a squeak. She could hardly breathe as he leaned towards her, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Sweet dreams, Lady Crowe." He pulled back to look at her one last time, and then slowly let her hand drop.

Crowe watched in a haze as his silent footsteps carried him away from her.