Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 83: Ch. 83: Chasm

Felix jumped like he’d seen a ghost. In the span of a second, he straightened up and smoothed out his clothes before sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

“Hello, little lady,” he said to Emma, breaking out what was supposed to be a disarming grin.

Emma did not often smile at others, especially someone as ugly as Felix, so she did not bother to answer, only staring intensely at him with her dark and steady gaze.

“What were you doing, sir?” Emma repeated. She hated engaging in excessive chatter, but Winter had told her that people would take her more seriously if she spoke more. As a result, she did try to talk more often now.

“I-” Felix cleared his throat nervously, then perhaps he realized that he was dealing with a child and leaned over the much shorter Emma. “That is none of your business. This area is not safe for children. Please return to the entrance of the prince’s tent.”

It occurred to Emma that if Winter were in her current position, she would have either burst out laughing or dramatically rolled her eyes. But Emma was much more concise in showing her displeasure.

Lashing out with her left foot, Emma swung her foot between his legs and knocked the toe of her boot against his Achille’s tendon at an angle that Robbie had told her felt like someone had just set fire to your leg. It worked as promised.

.....

“Hey, what are you- Oh! Ah! My leg! Helio have mercy! What did you do?!” Felix folded back down to the ground, the skinny newly adult man wailing on the ground like a little boy.

He threw an accusatory glance at Emma as he yelled loud enough to wake the dead, sending the guards running around the corner in seconds, followed by a bewildered Winter and Julian.

Seeing his loyal servant on the ground, Julian adopted a look of concern and went over to look, kneeling on the soft grass next to Felix.

“What happened? What’s the matter?”

“I- This girl she-” Felix sputtered, his finger wagging in Emma’s direction.

Emma was a quiet girl, but she had learned a few wily tricks from her mistress. Before Felix could finish talking she went to bow before Prince Julian and sternly said, “Your highness, there was a snake that almost bit Felix. In preventing it from causing harm, I scared the beast away but accidentally kicked your manservant. Please punish me as you see fit.”

“No one is getting punished tonight! Right, Julian?” Winter quickly but in, pulling Emma behind her and throwing an irritated wink at her half-brother. Emma was faintly amused by how her younger and shorter friend wanted to ‘protect’ her, the feeling temporarily overwhelming the hurt she’d been carrying around for the past few days.

In fact, Julian wouldn’t have done anything as he felt slight shame at the thought that his manservant, who was also partially trained in the art of battle, could be felled so easily by a kick from a child.

Thus, he was quick to dismiss waving away Emma’s apology. “Nevermind that. At least the snake is gone. It’s a bit late, you should head to bed, Winter.”

Emma witnessed the withering glare Emma tossed Julian’s way, before she turned heel rapidly, forcing Emma to slightly trot to catch up.

“Why that little- I swear, just because he’s a little older he thinks he can boss me around willy nilly. Well, I won’t stand for it! Someday I’ll give him a taste of what it’s like being bossed around!” Winter exclaimed, her hands gesturing passionately with her words.

“Wait,” Winter paused, a thought occurring to her. Her bright gold eyes were visible even in the night as she turned to look at Emma. “Was there really a snake beside the tent? How did you both end up there?”

“There was, your highness.”

“Oh wow, two words for a change!” Winter fist-pumped the air. “Will you tell me why you’re mad at me soon?” Her earnest eyes bore into Emma’s and Emma looked away at the ground.

“He was the snake,” she clarified further, avoiding Winter’s second question.

“Huh,” The brilliant smile faded, replaced a look of contemplation that was beyond Winter’s years. Emma did not speak often, but she was frank and her underlying meaning was easy to understand. Eventually, however, Winter just shrugged. “Well... it’s not our problem.”

Emma nodded, glad her friend wasn’t a mindless do-gooder. She still remembered how the kind, old businessman who had taken his life savings to open a soup kitchen in the roughest suburbs of West Bend had been robbed blind and given a lame leg as a thank you. Now he still wandered the streets with a withered staff, clinging to life desperately as he cursed everyone and everything that moved. But, he had never been bothered since the initial robbery.

Emma sighed hours later as the quiet snores of Winter echoed above her. Sleep was impossible, all her senses on high alert as if something were about to leap out of the shadows. But there was nothing out there between herself and the guards that could get into the tent. However, erring on the side of caution was a lesson that Emma had been forced to learn painfully before she’d even lost her first baby tooth. And this lesson had carved out all the happiness from her heart, until meeting Winter had started refilling that sister-shaped happiness she had once enjoyed long ago.

“Moira,” she whispered hesitantly, the darkness swallowing her words eagerly. Emma’s chest clenched as if someone had grabbed it with great fierceness and she patted it tenderly until the feeling went away, but not fully. It had been a while since the sensation had bothered her.

Emma looked up at Winter’s sleeping face, the tendrils of distinct, icy whiteness falling onto her chubby cheek, and wondered how she could get the words in her heart into the open. She had never had a way with words. That was Clever Jack, and before Jack, there was Moira.

But like a cork in a bottle, Emma said nothing once the sun rose and Winter began chattering again, before falling into one of the long, abnormal silences she was prone to on occasion. There was no window for Winter to sit by, so she sat at the desk with her chin propped up on her fists for a few hours without a sound.

Emma had seen that behavior from the destitute soldiers who returned from war penniless and scarred with wounds both visible and invisible. Sometimes, if she waved a hand in front of Winter’s eyes, her friend wouldn’t even react. Then Emma’s heart would unavoidably soften and she would wish to talk with Winter the way they used to and understand the curious, wonderful enigma that her closest companion was.

Thoughts seemed to move rapidly in her friend’s head, her eyes moving around the way they do when one has a thousand thoughts all firing at once, and others she was like a blank slate for hours. Once in a while, Emma pondered what Winter thought about at those times as she practiced her swordwork, sharpened her blade, or hacked away at the short pieces of grass underfoot. Did Winter think about their friendship? Because Emma found that recently, it was all she could think about.

A princess and a former street urchin as friends? The words sounded foolish in Emma’s head, let alone if she said it aloud. So she did nothing, her outstretched hand that had reached out to pat Winter’s shoulder tucking itself back at her side.

Day in, day out, the wall between the two friends grew taller as the morale in the camp sank further, weighed down by the anchor they now called “eruptions” even though Winter had muttered more than once that they were actually “explosives”. Despite the heavy July sun practically making the army’s shiny armor melt into their flesh, a cloud hung over the military front as well as over Winter and Emma. Winter’s ramblings slowly shortened and she pleaded with Emma less as Emma’s guilt and doubt sent her sword flying quicker and quicker through the air.

War, once a distant idea in Emma’s mind, was turning out to be a bloody, lawless thing. It made Emma feel like she was home in the slums again. When she ran around at night to clear her head, sometimes she would make it out as far as where the nurse camp was, a thick coppery scent hanging in the air the same way she could smell spun sugar and imported perfume when she and Winter sold flowers in the East Bend.

The medical station, which had once been rather idle with only a few soldiers to treat every day, was now packed to the brim like a local pub on weekends. There were agonizing wails and prayer. Lots of prayers. Ironically, it was all the praying, not the screaming and blood, that sent Emma skittering away back into the darkness.

The poor and destitute will always pray for a miracle, Jack had always told her in mockery of their plight. They don’t yet realize that it isn’t Helio who listens, but Akira. Otherwise, why would we get away with everythin’ we do?

From everything she’d seen and done in her 10 years of life, Emma couldn’t agree more. The bishop in charge of the battle mages, a looming, soulless looking man whose washed-out platinum locks nearly blended in with his white and blue garb, became the figurehead for those desperate with prayers about the “eruptions”.

“Please aid your children, oh Helio. For even the earth rebels against us in this righteous battle against those who do not believe in your light. Help us Helio in...” Their voices drifted away into the night along with the prostrate bodies kneeling in prayer before the bishop, yet somehow looking as if they were bowing to him.

There was no torchlight to light Emma’s path through the crates of supplies, tents of slumbering soldiers, and night guards. However, since she could walk, matters of escaping the notice of others and being quick-footed had been her strong suit. It was why Clever Jack had found great use in her presence within his gang too.

Walking back to the tent, Emma nodded to the two guards out front, who had seen her slip out almost an hour prior. She was breathing slightly heavily after jogging back and felt cleansed as if she’d taken a rare bath, reminding her of when Winter had let her join in her large, wooden bathtub. But the feeling washed away as Emma detected an rumpled bed with no Winter in it.

“Winter!” Emma hissed out, dropping the ‘your highness’ entirely as she scrambled to the bedside in a split second. Emma’s dark skirt flew up in a tizzy as she dove over one side of the bed, then the other, just in case Winter had tumbled off it in her sleep. But there was no such luck. Winter was simply not there.

The first threads of panic began to weave through the typically calm Emma. She rushed to the curtain entrance of the tent, ready to yell for guards, but something stayed her hand. Winter was a girl of many thoughts who surely could not be kidnapped so easily. So what if Winter, just like herself, had left?

Without her?

The chasm between the two grew wider in Emma’s heart as she slowly flopped onto the bed, taking in Winter’s familiar scent as something hot pricked her eyes. Her mother had always said that the most reliable thing in this world was money, and the most unreliable: people. The sisterhood between them, was that only wishful thinking on her behalf?

Sometime in the endless night, before Winter returned, Emma nodded off on the bed surrounded by the scent of grass and Winter. When she woke, something warm was pressed against her side. Emma sat up in a flash and turned around to see Winter laying by her side like a cat. Her large eyes regarding Emma lazily as if she had been at it for quite some time.

“Can we talk?”

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