《I Love You; Good Bye》


 Page One

    Deep in the woods of a faraway, banished land, a young woman wept over the corpse of a deer. Her hands were pushed up against its bloodied fur, her porcelain skin tainted with the warmth of vermilion, as tears streamed down her faded sepia eyes that matched her messy bangs now soaked with the rain of an ever-growing storm.


    It was terribly cold, and she shivered, and gasped, and pushed up against her weak and frail legs that did nothing but sink into the soil where earthworms slithered past her bare shins.


    She tried to remember why she mourned the death of this creature, but nothing came to mind.


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    Soon, her thoughts were replaced with the sounds of hooves smashing their way through mud, whimpers of fear that left her lips.


    A single horse came into view once the shadows of the branches above ceased to obstruct its figure from her vision.


    ¡°Get yourselves over here, men!¡± The voice of a young man, his shouts, made her freeze.


    Slow and careful, she tilted her chin upwards, until her widened eyes met with an onyx gaze filled with hate. He is death, she thought as she covered whatever she could of her naked body with her arms¡ªcrossed against her chest¡ªand observed the silhouette who donned black from head to toe. He is death, and he has come to take me away.


    The young man¡¯s features scrunched up as his brows came to cover his glare of disdain. He tugged on his horse¡¯s reins, he said, ¡°I¡¯ve found her.¡±

 Page Two

    They shackled her and threw robes over her head. The man who had found her looked down at her figure and scoffed as she was forced into the back of a carriage. ¡°At least have some decency,¡± he said before returning to his horse.


    There were three to five soldiers. They all shared what seemed to be a uniform for the guard of this country. Some of them were whispering amongst themselves. She heard a few refer to her as ¡°It¡±. One of them pointed at her head, or more specifically, a tad above it. As he did this a few more times, someone told him to stop and gave his ribs a playful, nudge of the elbow. The young woman heard him being called by the name Elian; she thought it was a wonderful name.


    Contrary to the others, Elian did not seem hostile towards the idea of her existence. He only rearranged the bow that hung off his back and scratched at his short, chestnut hair, whilst a flush of red peppered his cheeks that were once a lighter hue of pink.


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    However, no matter how long she glanced his way, Elian did not look back.


    ¡°Elian¡­¡± she tested the feel of his name against her tongue, and wondered if they too would give her a title once she arrived at wherever it was that they were taking her.


    The carriage begun to move into the fog of the road before them.


    The noises of hooves beating the ground and leaving dust behind returned.


    She closed her eyes and let her back rest against old wood. As curiosity got the better of the young woman, she reached up to touch what Elian had glared at minutes ago.


    Antlers¡ªjust like the ones on the deer that had perished by her knees.


    Antlers¡­


    She gasped.


    I have antlers!

 Page Three

    The young woman was woken by a sudden shake to her shoulder. The touch was not gentle, nor was it brash, it felt like an order that could not be denied. ¡°Get up,¡± a voice¡ªshe recognised as the one attached to the man she called Death¡ªsaid. ¡°And tell me your name while we¡¯re at it. I would like to know who I am speaking to before we start any conversation.¡±


    She was surprised to find he did not settle for calling her It or That Girl like the others did. Though his scowl did not die, as he asked again, ¡°Your name, what is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± she blurted.


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    This made him pause. ¡°You don¡¯t have one,¡± he said, ¡°or you don¡¯t remember?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    She looked past his shoulder. The fog had not let out, but a tall, tall castle¡ªembraced by yet another forest¡ªloomed over their tiny figures now.


    Before its magnificent door, a crowd of soldiers who wore the same uniforms, she had seen on the others earlier on, were shuttling inside; this time, both men and women donned the emblem of their country as they carried shields and swords and bows, and more, into the fortress.


    What appeared to be a crowd of teenagers, gathered behind the guard; one by one, they marched behind their protectors with torches that lit up the ever-growing night and resembled giant, orange fireflies.


    ¡°Ophelia,¡± the man finally told the young woman.


    ¡°Ophelia?¡± she echoed.


    He nodded. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°From now on, it will be your name.¡±

 Page Four

    ¡°Am I one of you now?¡± Ophelia asked with a curt, tilt of her head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± the man she knew as death scoffed and finally pulled her out of the carriage. ¡°You¡¯ll never be welcome here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Then why¡­¡± Ophelia¡¯s question lingered on the tip of her tongue. The man spared no time leading her towards the castle by the shackles around her wrists. She winced as they nicked her thin skin. ¡°Forget it,¡± she said. ¡°Is this place not your home? Is that why you cannot welcome me?¡±


    He paused. Behind them, a trail of footsteps had created dented marks in the fresh soil; some of boots, some of feet. ¡°We kidnapped you, woman!¡± He turned towards her with an angry motion of his arm that sliced the air in two. ¡°Why would you even want to be welcome by us? Are you mad?¡±


    ¡°Kidnapped?¡± Ophelia said the word as if it was the first time she had ever heard it. ¡°You helped me,¡±¡ªshe reached out for his hands and gave them both a tiny squeeze¡ª¡°I wish for us to be friends, um...¡± Ophelia averted her gaze. The fog she stared into reminded her of her own¡ªand current¡ªmental ordeal.


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    ¡°Kris,¡± the man supplied; he shook off her touch until it was faint, faded entirely, and the only thing which remained for him to do was march forward¡ªalways forward¡ªwithout ever stopping once. The light disappeared from the horizon. He pulled on the chains that connected the shackles which surrounded Ophelia¡¯s wrists.


    When Ophelia glanced back at the castle, it had gotten bigger, and bigger. And, as they approached, she felt a certain sense of nostalgia once the last of the torchbearers disappeared behind the tall walls of impenetrable stone.


    Images of a distant past clouded her mind¡ªbut it was too late now, too late to remember as her memories were once again blown away by the words of another. ¡°My father desires to see you,¡± Kris said. ¡°Do not even think of angering him.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t thinking of that at all, Ophelia wanted to say; though the phrase was soon lost to the night once her eyes found a familiar face amidst the crowd before them.


    She gasped.


    Elian.

 Page Five

    Elian joined them. He waved, and ran, and called Kris¡¯s name until his legs were steady again and he was walking beside Ophelia; it occurred to Ophelia that Elian¡¯s smile was much richer when he was far from his comrades, or, perhaps closer to Kris¡ªshe didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°You¡¯re taking her to father? Alone?¡± Elian asked, in a tone that once again implied curiosity over disgust.


    Kris shrugged. Beside them, children in tattered robes dashed past their figures and giggled despite their miserable states. ¡°She is harmless, brother.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    Ophelia observed Kris. As he scoffed and took a look back at her from over his shoulder, his gaze darkened with a chilling fog that inspired Ophelia with urges to escape back into the woods, where nothing was new and everything was wise. ¡°She believes we have saved her.¡±


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    ¡°Oh.¡± Elian¡¯s smile faded. This time, he was neither facing Ophelia nor Kris¡ªit was as if he sought out something far away, something that was greater than the crowd before then, greater than the fortress¡¯s sturdy walls. ¡°I see¡­¡± were the last words Ophelia heard him say for a good moment.


    When they had finally passed many faces now forgotten, Elian spoke again. ¡°Does she speak our tongue?¡±


    Ophelia parted her lips to reply, Yes, I do. Yet, the pieces that remained of phrases unspoken were but a mere set of lonely croaks that escaped her throat, leaving both the young men before her oblivious to her attempt; stolen¡ªby what? She did not know.


    The scent of burnt pinewood surrounded her senses as a large bonfire kept many a shadow warm. They danced with each other under the twilight and stars that filled the deep violet sky like a myriad of lost souls wandering inside the darkest of voids.


    Soon, the sight of them disappeared¡ªalong with the flames¡ªonce Ophelia was led, slow and steady, into the tallest tower of the castle.

 Page Six

    It was midnight.


    The tower¡¯s air was pure no more; it smelled of dust¡ªdust and the way furniture does when it ages without being properly cared for.


    By now, Elian had already gone, like a ghostly apparition that made Ophelia wonder whether he had been a fraction of her imagination. The day had seemed both long and short, short and long, and she did not know what to make of it. Kris had promised her he would be back soon; but how soon was soon? she wondered. And what if he didn¡¯t come back? What if he left her here all alone like¡ª


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    Ophelia paused. Like?


    Like what?


    Like who?


    She shook her head.


    She could not remember. Perhaps it was the cold of this room that was driving her mad; the fact that there was a fireplace right before her¡ªone she hadn¡¯t any means to light.


    Maybe I should sleep for now, was the conclusion she came to; for moving only injured her wrists a little more, and the shackles that bound her were not showing any signs of ageing to the point where they would crack, or break.


    She closed her eyes.


    There was a voice.


    There was a sun.


    There, were the memories of a distant past, the soft whispers of the Earth and the kind touch of a woman whose name she could not remember.

 Page Seven

    Who are you?


    Who are you? Ophelia shouted in her dreams filled with images of a forest she feared she might never see again.


    Her feet were bare as she ran across the soil, chasing a figure that disappeared behind tree after tree, until she was alone. Until the cadaver of a deer was at her knees again, gutted and bleeding onto her skin.


    She screamed.


    There was pressure on her shoulders.


    She kicked, and lashed out at whatever was shaking her, peeling her away from the feeling of caring so much, of being so close, of not wanting to rouse. ¡°Let me go!¡± Ophelia shouted. ¡°Let me go!¡±


    ¡°To where?¡± A voice asked.


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    She gasped.


    She opened her eyes.


    Her hair was splayed out like savage vines across the tiny single bed. Kris was above her. He had removed her shackles and replaced them with his hands, which were now wrapped around her wrists he pinned besides her head. ¡°To where?¡± He asked Ophelia again. ¡°And to what means?¡±


    Ophelia¡¯s lip quivered. Tears filled her eyes to the brim, until she was unable to see a single detail of the room. When she finally blinked, and accepted to weep even though she did not quite know where her desperation was coming from, she whimpered and told Kris, ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know where I should go.¡±


    Kris did not move. He did not hold her, he did not hit her, nor did he wipe her tears either. He stayed silent, observing every single one of her movements, her words, the way she tried to force the corners of her lips to be stable; even though they would always fall in the end.


    When Ophelia finally stopped mourning the loss of a presence invisible to her, Kris released her wrists and rose from the bed. His back was turned to her. He was still wearing his uniform. It reminded Ophelia of the first time they had met, except now, she had taken notice of a scar that had made a dent across the thin skin of his neck.


    Kris said, ¡°It is time for you to leave this place.¡±

 Page Eight

    ¡°Why is she still silent?¡± The king caressed his beard with one hand as the other rested against the arm of his throne. As he tapped his foot with impatience, he said, ¡°I thought you mentioned her having the gift of speech.¡±


    ¡°She does, father!¡± Kris¡¯s arm lingered against his elbow. He bit his lip and averted his gaze from the king¡¯s. ¡°At least¡­¡± he said. ¡°She did.¡±


    ¡°Speak, girl!¡± The king shouted. He pounded his fist and glared at Olivia who knew not what to say. Just like before¡ªwhen she had yearned to answer Elian¡¯s question¡ªher words would not come no matter what she tried. The king continued to scream, however at this point, Ophelia had drowned out his distasteful accusations of mockery and replaced them with silence as she observed the gold that dangled all around the throne room, the banners that danced above their heads; some with emblems Ophelia did not recognise.


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    And then, she froze. As Ophelia laid her eyes upon a painting depicting the murder of two innocent deer her lips parted, she gasped, she took a step back.


    Kris stopped apologising to his father. His father¡¯s yelling faded. ¡°Kris,¡± he said. ¡°Is she one of them?¡±


    ¡°We do not know,¡± Ophelia heard Kris say. ¡°She has no memories of her past, nor are there any witnesses available who could give us a clue.¡±


    The King scoffed. He rose from his seat and marched over to where Ophelia stood. His navy, velvet cape draped off his throne and onto the floor like waves lapping at the sand on a shore.


    Shaken and unwell, the images of bloodshed and pain¡ªso much pain¡ªflashed through Ophelia¡¯s mind.


    ¡°No matter,¡± the king told Kris as he glared down at the young woman who cowered in fear. ¡°We¡¯ll be sending her to the army as punishment. Perhaps, then, she will finally learn her place.¡± He turned back to glance at Kris from over his shoulder. ¡°Whichever services she is to offer them,¡± he said, ¡°you choose.¡±

 Page Nine

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I am merciful,¡± Kris told Ophelia, who had just finished trying on her brand-new robes, onyx and blue¡ªjust like his.


    Ophelia slipped into her boots. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± she asked him. The maids walked in and deposited a warm cape made of fur across her back.


    ¡°Never mind.¡± Kris waved her off and headed for the still open door. ¡°Finished serving your three days of picking up crops for the hungry, and then we¡¯ll talk.¡±


    She attempted to bid him farewell; yet, with the old maids nearby now, it was the sound of nothing that left her lips.


    Not a minute later in marched Elian with a coat of his own, made up of expensive leathers, all brown and thick enough to last him through the winter. His wooden bow stuck out from behind his back like a single wing; it fascinated Ophelia. She wondered when, and how, and why, he had learned to use it.


    Apparently, Elian got the gist of this, for he soon asked her, ¡°Has it caught your interest?¡±


    She nodded.


    The maids shuffled out of the room with the discretion of worker bees who still had much left to do in their day.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Elian paused. He stared at Ophelia as if it were the first time he was looking at her. ¡°So you can understand me,¡± he said.


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    She nodded again.


    He put a finger to his chin and added, ¡°But you can¡¯t talk.¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    Elian bit his lip. He sighed and glanced downward at the stone floor of her new bedroom. ¡°Listen¡­¡± His eyes met with hers again. The green of his gaze reminded her of the forest; the contrast between him and his brother was something that baffled Ophelia to the highest degree. ¡°I know we¡¯re not supposed to help you, but¡­¡± He scratched the back of his head. ¡°From what I gather, you are quite new to our customs, so¡­ I¡¯ll come check up on you from time to time. If that¡¯s fine with you, o-of course¡ª¡±


    Ophelia took his hands in hers. She squeezed them once and looked up to him with a smile.


    He returned her grin. ¡°I see,¡± Elian echoed. ¡°That¡¯s good to know then.¡± With a fist to his lips, he cleared his throat. ¡°I must get going now,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure one of the guards will arrive to accompany you any minute now.¡± As he headed for the door, he stopped in his tracks. His back was still turned to Ophelia when he spoke again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about father¡¯s behaviour,¡± he told her. ¡°He¡¯s sick, and he hasn¡¯t been himself lately. I don¡¯t think you deserve your punishment, but none of us want to go against his orders at the risk of being beheaded. I hope you¡¯ll find it in yourself to forgive us.¡±


    And then, he was gone.


    Ophelia could not understand why he had decided to be kind with her. Earlier this morning, she had heard a crowd outside her window spreading rumours that the castle had now adopted a spirit of nature. Some seemed fearful, others delighted. Could he be one of these people who believe me to be something more than I am? she wondered as she thought back to Elian and his words. And what if that were me after all? How would I know, since I have forgotten?


    The guard knocked on her door.


    Ophelia was led out to a carriage, whose destination was a place far from the castle she had barely gotten the time to know.

 Page Ten

    Ophelia wasn¡¯t sure which war it was that these people were fighting, or if there even was one in the first place. As they all hopped out of the carriage and approached¡ªwhat she had heard every soldier refer to as¡ªthe training grounds, she still had yet to see any signs of a fight breaking out, or traps, and fires that could have lingered on the horizon. There were, however, many men forging swords, weapons and arrows, in a building nearby. She watched them through a window; they did not notice her, she assumed it was because they were too absorbed in their work.


    ¡°Come!¡± Elian ushered her over. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t bother them,¡± he said. ¡°We need our weapons to be sturdy and strong. If they make a single mistake, we could pay greatly in battle later on.¡±


    Without a word, Ophelia followed his steps into what resembled an inn. The training grounds were not what Ophelia had expected, and it was a certainty in her mind that she could have surely mistaken it for a modest village of their times.


    She grabbed hold of Elian¡¯s sleeve and tugged. Elian paused. He spared her a glance from over his shoulder. ¡°Nervous?¡± he asked her with a chuckle.


    Ophelia shook her head. No, she wanted to say. No, I¡¯m not nervous. But I want to know what it is you are fighting for. She tried to mime a warrior holding his sword, and then another, whom she pointed to as she shrugged and looked upward to Elian with confusion in hopes that he would understand.


    ¡°Ah,¡± he smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you won¡¯t have to fight at all. We just need someone to assist us in the kitchen and farms.¡±


    She sighed. Her shoulders hung low as both their feet made the floorboards creak once they headed to the rooms on the second floor.


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    ¡°I know,¡± Elian said. ¡°I know,¡± he echoed. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly great fun, but we¡¯re short on men, and we could use an extra pair of hands.¡± He motioned to the door he had just opened. ¡°Here. This is where we¡¯ll be staying.¡±


    When Ophelia said nothing in response, and only stared blankly at what Elian had just shown her, he coughed and hooked an arm around his neck. ¡°Sorry, usually we do try to have separate rooms for men and women, but I can¡¯t watch over you if you¡¯re on the opposite end of the training grounds. I hope it¡¯s not an issue for¡ª¡±


    She stepped into the room. Elian went silent. Someone had already taken the liberty of lighting the fireplace, and the noises of logs crackling filled the room; as did the warmth of the flames.


    Of course it wasn¡¯t an issue. Why would it be? Ophelia asked herself, as she thought, The only problem here is that my words have been stolen from me. Where have they gone? And what must I do to get them back?


    Ophelia heard Elian take a deep breath from behind her. Yet, before the young man could speak again, his name was called from downstairs. ¡°Sorry,¡± he excused himself with a curt bow. He stepped away from Ophelia¡¯s figure. ¡°I think my presence is needed downstairs. We¡¯ll be having dinner soon, feel free to come down once you hear the bell ring.¡±


    Ophelia nodded once. She closed the door behind his shadow. When she finally had time for herself, a single better look at the room immediately told her that these were surely Elian¡¯s permanent quarters. Bows were hanging off the walls, as were arrows and unfamiliar, foreign trinkets she could not name. However, what made her veins go cold was not the portrait of his family with a mother long gone and a smaller version of Kris who smiled brighter than any suns she¡¯d ever seen¡ªit was the head of a deer, plastered behind the door, gazing into her eyes with his pupils now hollow of any emotion.


    Ophelia took a step back.


    She tripped over her foot and fell to the floor.


    Outside, men were singing, woman were laughing.


    I need to get away, Ophelia thought, without truly knowing why, only, that something deep inside of her told her she was not safe here. I have to escape.


    Before they get me too.

 Page Eleven

    The bell rang, and yet, Ophelia did not move.


    Her breaths were heavy. Her lungs were short on air. She hadn¡¯t kept track of the time¡ªso it could have very well been only a minute, or over an hour¡ªbut after a moment, the deer¡¯s head moved along with the opening door. ¡°Hey,¡± Elian said as he stepped in with his leather boots still partially soaked by the dew outside. ¡°Dinner¡¯s ready.¡± His voice was soft, like seeds of daffodils flying through the wind. Despite Ophelia¡¯s earlier gut-wrenching feeling, she sensed no hostility whatsoever coming from him.


    Ophelia hugged her knees close to her chest. She averted her gaze from his. A part of the old wood showed resistance when the skirt of her dress rose alongside her legs; its fabric was now caught in the many, tiny splinters she could not see.


    Elian kneeled down before her and extended his hand for her to take. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he said. ¡°Are you not feeling well?¡±


    She shook her head. Even if she could have spoken, she wasn¡¯t sure she would have found the words, nor the courage, to do so.


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    ¡°Stop babying her,¡± a voice said from the corridor. ¡°She¡¯s a grown woman. Even if she appears to be young, Kris tells me she is at least of age to offer her hand in marriage or join the army.¡±


    ¡°I know, Vera,¡± Elian said in return. ¡°But not everyone¡¯s like you. Sometimes,¡±¡ªhe smiled at Ophelia¡ª¡°we just need a bit of a push, right?¡±


    Ophelia gulped. That these people could murder other sources of life in cold blood seemed preposterous to her. And yet¡­ and yet¡­ She glanced upward once more, to the deer¡¯s head. And yet, this was here.


    She took Elian¡¯s hand; it was the least she could do. A young woman who looked no older than twenty was there, waiting, when she passed the open door. Her arms were crossed, a sword hung by her waist and her long black hair fell at the sides of her face, framing the stare of an ice-queen¡ªthe lightest blue in anyone Ophelia had ever seen.


    ¡°Ophelia,¡±¡ªElian motioned to his comrade with his free hand¡ª¡°Meet Vera. She¡¯s in charge of most of our troupes.¡±


    Vera looked down at Ophelia and scoffed. ¡°She reminds me of them,¡± she said before turning her back on them. ¡°It¡¯s ominous, I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    Them? Who is that? Ophelia wondered as she watched Vera walk away, her dark cape casting shadows along the ground lit by torches that burned bright across the inn¡¯s walls.

 Page Twelve

    To say dinner was atrocious was an understatement. Ophelia had refused to touch any of it. It smelled like skin, the scent of death. Just like that deer in the forest. Just like the blood, she had thought.


    ¡°Ophelia?¡± And here was Elian again, calling her name for the hundredth time tonight even though he very well knew she couldn¡¯t, and would never answer.


    She wanted to trust him, truly, she did, but something was off about him; something was off about everyone here. They were murderers. They didn¡¯t mind taking lives, and despite what Elian had claimed earlier on, she wasn¡¯t sure she could believe a man who¡¯d said he would not harm her, when he¡¯d scoffed down the body of another life¡ªand relished in the scent of burnt cadavers¡ªwith a smile on his face.


    ¡°Ah, I finally found you!¡± Elian huffed. He rested both his hands against his knees. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you actually came out here¡­¡±


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    Ophelia couldn¡¯t fathom his surprise¡ªafter all, it was him who had given her this task of picking up strawberries in an empty field at midnight.


    Maybe it showed on her face, for then, he said, ¡°I know I told you this would be one of your assignments during your stay here, but I think you should take the night off. I¡¯m sorry. I should have known you were feeling ill.¡± Elian pursed his lips together. He took a step forward and grasped her shoulder.


    A gasp escaped from Ophelia¡¯s lips. She shut her eyes and dropped the round, woven basket full of berries at her feet. The end of her skirt was now tinged by the colour red. She tensed, waited, for the unknown to come.


    Once she realised Elian¡¯s touch was nothing but gentle, the fear that he had taken back his promise of doing her no harm immediately dissipated in Ophelia¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Walk with me?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯d like to show you something, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Ophelia nodded.


    She left the basket behind.


    In the hollow night, they left the sound of footsteps behind, past the strawberry fields, towards the light of the moon which illuminated their figures and gave their shadows a faint glow, one usually only finds in his wildest dreams.

 Page Thirteen

    What Elian had so dearly yearned to show her was a wheat field. A perfect circle had been sliced in its middle, one they currently sat in, crossed legged as they looked up to the moon. "I always came here when I was a child," he said as he glanced Ophelia''s way. "I used to wonder¡ªand I still do¡ªif this part of the field will ever grow back."


    Ophelia cocked her head as if to ask, Does it not? Why?


    This time, it seems Elian understood; that, or he had merely wished to tell her his story from the start. She did her best to listen. She did her best to keep herself from losing track of his words when the glint of the sky above made his emerald eyes turn into darker hues of sickly blues. "They say it was witchcraft," Elian told her, in a tone that did not evoke fear, but curiosity¡ªa thirst for knowledge. "Others think it is a prank. Yet, we''ve tried everything to make the soil fertile again¡ªnothing ever works. I..." Elian bit his lip. His eyes darted to their feet. "I always believed it was real," he said. "Magic. And now,"¡ªhis gaze met Ophelia''s again¡ª"with you here,"¡ªhe smiled¡ª"maybe we''ll finally get answers. You don''t know how happy that makes me, Ophelia."


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    Ophelia turned her head away. Her heart was beating, fast, in ways that made her head spin and her throat dry. She didn''t know why she''d believed Elian''s interest in her was true from the start. Perhaps, she thought, that she had wanted to trust in him¡ªin the good of this world filled with wonderful but deadly creatures and tales.


    She gulped.


    I''m nothing to him.


    "Sorry." Elian chuckled. "Did I scare you with all this talk of magic?" He leaned in. His fingers brushed against her knuckles. "I didn''t mean to," he said. "It''ll be okay, I promise."


    Elian grinned again. Ophelia wanted to throw up.


    I''m nothing. I''m neither a friend, nor a foe.


    I''m useful.


    Convenient.


    Proof.


    Cattle.


    "I promise, I''ll protect you from the enchantress, whomever she may be."

 Page Fourteen

    Ophelia soon realized that it was not the enchantress she had to fear, but Vera.


    The captain of the guard knocked on her door, during the earliest hours of morning, when light had yet to rise. "Open up," she said. "Or I''ll come in there myself."


    A yawn took over Ophelia''s features. Her stride was lazy, her footsteps crooked, as she pushed her sluggish body out of bed, away from sheets that had kept her warm when her morale could not do so anymore.


    Events from last night flooded her mind. She did not know what to think of the situation, nor did she know whether it was wise in cases like these to think at all. Ophelia wanted out, yet, to where was still a mystery to her¡ªand so, she hadn''t a choice but to stay here, where everything was twisted inward; like a strange dance that never stopped, like someone''s last breath before the first snows of winter, like the air filled with rumors that would never wash away with the waves of summer.


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    Ophelia yanked the lock away from old wood. She opened the door. Vera wasn''t pleased. She did the things that people did when they prepared themselves to scream, and accuse others of negligence in parts of their lives. She tapped her elbow with her fingers. Her lips were shaking, not out of fear. In she came walking, with boots that made floorboards creak. To the window outside she pointed, and said, "Get dressed, Ophelia. I don''t want you here."

 Page Fifteen

    Ophelia wanted to reply. She couldn¡¯t.


    Vera¡¯s features scrunched up as if she were in pain. But she wasn¡¯t, Ophelia knew, that it was anger which had taken over her mind¡ªalthough the origin of Vera¡¯s rage was a mystery to her.


    ¡°Get dressed,¡± Vera told her again, while pointing to Ophelia¡¯s clothes this time, which had been left hanging on a nearby chair. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t walk amongst our ranks. It¡¯s wrong.¡±


    I know, Ophelia wanted to say.


    It is wrong, but what can I do about it? What can I do, when I have nothing else but here?


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me?¡± Vera¡¯s breaths had hitched. The calm and collected young woman Ophelia first met when she¡¯d arrived was gone. Her face was red, her lips made of trembles, and her hands fisted in the cream-colored collar of Ophelia¡¯s nightgown, which she now held as if her life depended on it. ¡°I told you to leave!¡±


    There was a creak in the corridor. Vera turned her head towards the half-opened door. A gasp escaped her. The strands of hair that were neatly tucked behind her ears fell before her eyes. It was too late for her to turn back from what she had set in motion, because Elian was now gazing at them both. And in his glare there was confusion, worry, unspoken questions all at once. It took him a moment, before he finally said, ¡°I would like an explanation, but we have more pressing matters at hand. Vera.¡± His attention shot towards her. ¡°Release Ophelia. You shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


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    It was a strange thing, Ophelia thought, to be hearing Vera¡¯s reproaches coming out from Elian¡¯s mouth.


    Vera complied. Her head hung low. By now, sunlight had begun to filter in through the round window out of their reaches, as newly hatched bluebirds sung their songs in the rooftop¡¯s dents. ¡°Elian,¡± she said, ¡°I only wanted to protect you before this¡±¡ªher finger found itself inches away from Ophelia¡¯s nose¡ª¡°consumes you again.¡±


    Elian parted his lips. They moved, once, twice, thrice, yet, no sound came out. He sighed. He said, ¡°It won¡¯t be like last time.¡±


    Last time?


    What does he mean by last time?


    ¡°You¡¯re a bad liar, Elian.¡± Judging from Elian¡¯s expression, it surprised him¡ªjust as much as it had Ophelia¡ªthat Vera used such a condescending tone on the Prince of her country. ¡°You¡¯re going to get hurt again; except this time¡ª¡± Vera stepped away from Ophelia. She walked past Elian, and came to a halt only once her long, black velvet cape was covered in his shadow. ¡°This time,¡± she said, ¡°Not me, nor anybody else will be there to protect you.¡±


    She dashed out the doorway.

 Page Sixteen

    Elian ran after her. The questions Ophelia wanted to ask them both stacked up in her mind. It was cruel, she thought, that all she could do was watch them from the entrance of her room as they grabbed each other¡¯s limbs and tried to fight one another away.


    ¡°Why does nobody believe me when I say I¡¯ve changed?¡± Elian cried, as he held onto her arm, as Vera faced his gaze with a chilling glare of her own. ¡°Why don¡¯t you¡ªout of all people¡ªbelieve me?¡±


    ¡°Because¡ª¡± Vera shook him off. This time, it seems Elian was too tired to even try to make her stay again. ¡°Because,¡± she said, voice a little lower than before, ¡°I know you still want to find your mother. I know you still have yet to truly move on. And I¡¯m sorry, Elian¡ª¡± Vera¡¯s voice broke; Ophelia could not see her face anymore, though it wasn¡¯t hard for her to imagine the expression she was making. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, ¡°but until you do, I don¡¯t think I can trust you anymore.¡±


    Elian¡¯s fingers curled into a fist. He didn¡¯t move. He was still, like a statue, a perfect soldier and not the lively Prince Ophelia was so used to knowing. ¡°Father is ill,¡± he said, simply, as if the statement didn¡¯t regard his own kin.


    Vera turned around. She was back to being angry now, and for a moment, Ophelia found this reassuring, because everything was back to normal and right again. ¡°I know that,¡± Vera told Elian, her tone bordering on offence. ¡°What are you trying to accomplish here?¡± She scoffed. ¡°I sure hope you¡¯re not playing the pity card on me. We both know that would be distasteful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Elian told her. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± He glanced down to his feet, then back up again, at her, at the hallway behind them. Someone downstairs had lit the fireplace. Ophelia could hear the sound of flames crackling through the air. ¡°He¡¯s¡­¡± Elian bit his lip. ¡°In his final days now. I just wanted you to know.¡±


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    Vera¡¯s eyes widened. It was brief, but for an instant, Ophelia could have sworn her gaze had grown glossy with tears¡ªtears she soon blinked away. ¡°Elian¡ª¡± Vera shook her head. ¡°Forgive me. I had no idea it was this¡ª¡±


    ¡°Bad?¡± This time, it was Elian who scoffed, as a smile he didn¡¯t mean took his lips. ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°Obviously, we don¡¯t know each other as well as we thought we did anymore.¡±


    ¡°Do you really believe that?¡± Vera asked, while he turned his back on her and walked in the direction of Ophelia¡¯s room once again. ¡°You don¡¯t think friends have the right to fight every once in a while?¡±


    Ophelia quickly removed her head from the door frame and jumped back into bed. She closed her eyes. She didn¡¯t know if Elian would believe that she¡¯d truly fallen asleep with all the ruckus they were making, though she figured it was better than standing there and doing nothing in the middle of her poor old room.


    ¡°Not when they stick around only while it is convenient, no,¡± she heard Elian mutter.


    ¡°Elian.¡± There were footsteps now. Vera¡¯s footsteps. Panicked footsteps. ¡°You know that¡¯s not true!¡± she said. ¡°You know I didn¡¯t have a choice but to¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Vera.¡± Yet again, Elian didn¡¯t sound like himself. His words were empty, of life, of fear, of everything Ophelia had associated with the young Prince. And Ophelia couldn¡¯t help but wonder if she¡¯d ever truly known him, or if it was Elian who did not know himself. ¡°I only came here to get Ophelia and tell you we were leaving early. You don¡¯t need to apologize, or to pretend,¡± he told Vera. ¡°I don¡¯t care about what you think of me, and I won¡¯t use my power to remove you from your post. Just¡­don¡¯t be mean to Ophelia, all right? She didn¡¯t choose to be here. It¡¯s my fault if things ended up this way, and my responsibility, so¡­stay out of it.¡± It didn¡¯t take long for him to find his way into a room that would soon be Ophelia¡¯s no more once she¡¯d walked out of the inn¡¯s door. ¡°Ophelia?¡± Elian knocked on hard wood. ¡°Are you asleep?¡± he asked.


    For once, Ophelia could agree with Vera¡ªElian was a terrible liar.

 Page Seventeen

    The King¡¯s dead body wasn¡¯t at all like the deer¡¯s, which Ophelia had found in the forest, and if it weren¡¯t for the civilians that mourned him around an open casket which hugged him tight, she could have almost wondered if he weren¡¯t simply asleep.


    Elian didn¡¯t speak much on their way back, neither did Kris when they arrived and he had to break the news to his brother that they were too late. ¡°Father has passed,¡± were the only words they¡¯d exchanged before the day followed another, then three, until it was finally time to bury the old man and crown the new ruler of this land.


    Ophelia observed Kris walk up to the casket. Unlike the others, he was not crying as he deposited pale white flowers at his feet. It was a curious thing, these funerals, and Ophelia wished she could have found her voice at this very moment to ask them why they treated the dead better than when they¡¯d been alive.


    The King¡¯s face soon disappeared underground, though the tears of his entourage did not as they continued to weep throughout the day, the ceremony held swiftly after, where Kris found himself seated atop a throne, his back clad by velvet capes embroidered in gold. For once, he did not look like death, but a regular young man who wanted no part in what was going on. His eyes were still dark, yet not with a storm, nor with rage¡ªthey were filled by sorrow, for today and the days that were to come.


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    At least, this is what Ophelia thought to herself when he rose, and bowed before his people, and said, ¡°I promise to do my best.¡±


    She listened to the whispers of the villagers that floated around them like ghosts. There were young voices. There were old ones. There were curious gazes, as were there condescending glares. Some said he didn¡¯t deserve to be King, others seemed to think it was fitting. Ophelia only wanted to know what made him appear so discontented with the situation at hand.


    Kris¡¯s figure faded, Ophelia¡¯s did too. As she zigzagged her way through the sea of bodies that smelt of foreign aromas Elian had called perfumes, she traced Kris¡¯s shadow with her feet, until they were alone, in his room, and her voice returned once more, letting her speak, letting her say, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

 Page Eighteen

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand,¡± Kris muttered under his breath. His fingers coiled into fists as he turned his back on Ophelia¡¯s figure. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here.¡±


    Ophelia stepped forth and allowed for the door, which led to Kris¡¯s room, to shut behind them. ¡°You say this with certainty,¡± she told him, her voice a whisper lost to the callings of the wind brewing a storm outside. ¡°You say this as if I have not lived among you for many a day. As if I had not been subjected to your father¡¯s rule, too. As if I did not have to watch you tear down the lives of deer for your traditions, and be forced to face the aftermath¡¯s of what you¡¯ve done on the walls of your bedrooms.¡±


    Kris¡¯s shoulders tensed. Ophelia wondered if she¡¯d gone too far. ¡°You saw that?¡± his tone wasn¡¯t that of pride, but of a man who had many things to hide¡ªshame, she thought. And then: Strange; how very, very strange of him it would be to even feel such remorse.


    ¡°I know you take lives for pleasure.¡± Ophelia¡¯s statement rang across the room like an arrow of truth that pierced the silence between them. ¡°I don¡¯t need to know more.¡±


    And that is when Kris¡¯s guard shattered, because, ¡°I know you can¡¯t talk to the others,¡± he said as he approached. Ophelia thought it was over. She believed she had angered the man that had become Death for her once more¡ªbut this wasn¡¯t the case. He wasn¡¯t coming at her with a sword. He was holding her, with arms that had once been open, arms that were now clasped around her, arms that prevented Ophelia from watching as he cried.


    Arms that muffled the words she nevertheless heard, ¡°I¡¯ve never murdered anything or anyone, Ophelia,¡± he said. ¡°Elian, he¡ª¡± Kris took a deep breath that shook like his legs did, that quivered Ophelia¡¯s hands did. ¡°Elian did it for me,¡± he whispered the words like they were made of sin. ¡°We lied. We lied to father, to everyone. He did it for my sake. Because I wasn¡¯t strong enough to murder with these hands.¡± He pulled away from her, glanced down to his open palms with hate-filled eyes. ¡°I am weak, Ophelia, and I hate that you have come here. Because of you¡±¡ªtheir gazes met, his was now fire, as was hers¡ª¡°because of you¡­¡± Kris lowered his voice. ¡°Because of you,¡± he said, ¡°they risk knowing I am not a hunter; and if they discover the truth, I will turn into the hunted, a king shunned from his throne.¡±


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    He looked away with disgust. ¡°Do you understand now? Do you understand why I do not want you near me? Or will you haunt me like that deer did with its round, and innocent eyes that begged me not to do it? Do you do this on purpose?¡± he was shouting now, a victim to his rage. ¡°Answer me, Ophelia! Do you want to remind me of that day where Elian proved that he should have been king and not me?¡± He sniffled, took a step backward, away from her. ¡°¡­I can¡¯t,¡± he muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t take this anymore. Why? Why do you torture me so? Who sent you here?¡±


    ¡°Kris¡­¡± Ophelia bit her lip. She tried to reach out to him, but the newly appointed king swatted her hand as if it were a fly, and down it came to rest by the young girl¡¯s side yet again. ¡°Forgive me,¡± she said, not because she felt need to apologize, but because she didn¡¯t know of any other word in her vocabulary to express the sorrow she¡¯d been feeling for the past couple minutes. Ophelia shook her head. Her eyes were shut. ¡°I did not mean to remind you of those times, no.¡± She blinked.


    ¡°Is it true, what you tell me?¡± she asked, after a few seconds had passed.


    When Kris turned to her one final time, with clouds shrouding his glare, Ophelia knew she had chosen the wrong words.


    How she wished she could take them back.


    Outside, rain started to pour harder than it¡¯d been before.


    Kris pointed at the door. ¡°Get out,¡± he said. ¡°Your presence is no longer needed here.¡±