Episode 42 - Present
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I’m sorry. I’m sure you expected to hear me say that. Or maybe you didn’t. Who is to say anymore. On one hand, there’s a lot to apologize for, undoubtedly, but an apology will never really be enough. It will never cover enough ground. It will never undo what was done. And I can try to dodge the point with philosophizing all I want, but at the end of the day, there are some answers that are set in stone. Certainty is not always a dirty word. It is a blade that draws its moral imperative entirely from the context in which it is wielded. There is certainty here. I have just been reluctant to accept it.
I am sorry for all that I have done. I regret it. I want to undo it. And all of that means next to nothing.
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The young princess had long since been given her own chambers. Given her status and her age, it was both her right and an obligation of sorts. But it still bothered Queen Evanora. She wanted her daughter close to her. Having almost lost her daughter once, she found herself living in the terror that such a moment can bring. The young princess slept. The queen could not.
A bargain had been struck, the queen knew. King Ezin did not need to say as much to her. It was abundantly clear in the air. She had not been party to it, but she had provided the ink, as it were. And the poison.
But it would all be worth it, she thought, as long as her daughter was safe. As long as the young princess was safe, she thought, there was nothing else to worry about. There was nothing else to be concerned with.
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Will you turn off this podcast? Will this be the episode that makes you give up? Unsubscribe, delete from your downloads. This, that, and the other thing. I’ve taken up so much of your time. None of it can be undone. But of what can be undone, will you do it? It seems possible, to me. I don’t know what fairytale you wrote about me, but it was probably inaccurate.
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The wedding day was quickly approaching. Time rushes headlong into both celebration and destruction, it could be said. And with all those in and around the palace in frantic and near constant preparations, each of the many fleeting seconds was accounted for. There were tapestries to be made, jewels to be strung together, animals slaughtered and then prepared.
The royal family was not excused from this time of toil. Rather, the labors expected of them were quite different. For them, there were ceremonies and traditions to conduct. Reverence to be paid to the deceased king and queen, whether or not they were owed it. And all the while, Princess Eathebel had to smile and feign a fondness for the duke. It was not so hard for her to do, of course. As a princess, she wore deception rather well. It had been taught to her from an early age. As a child so small she had to pretend. She had to smile when she felt like crying. She had to pretend to love the parents who only thinly masked their disdain for her. She had to pretend to be smaller than she was, pretend that she not have opinions about the kingdom, its governance, or her own future.
Like the true actress she was, her performance never faltered. Though the pressure to eliminate the problem grew as the days ticked by, she kept calm and did what she knew she had to do. The wedding was in a week. The formal countdown had begun, kicked off by a gathering in the sun kissed castle gardens. The clock was ticking, but the princess remained unbothered. Everywhere she went the eyes in the shadows were following her, ensuring that she was safe and his. Every so often, she would cast him a glance of love and admiration, knowing with no doubt or hesitation that said gesture was being returned.
“We’ll be together soon,” she would silently say. She would will such a message to him and rest in the comfort of knowing that somehow he would receive it.
All the while, Princess Eathebel stood beside the duke, engaging him in conversations fluidly. Her smile never waned. She laughed at all of his jokes. And when he presented her with a necklace of rubies, she graciously accepted them and complimented his sense of style.
Duke Jemes chuckled lowly. “About that,” he started to say.
The princess tilted her head. “What about that,” she said in a low voice.
Her disdain slipped into her words. She hadn’t been able to catch it in time. All she could do was hope that he hadn’t noticed.
“Well,” he started. “I’m afraid, Your Grace, that I am not so familiar with what is fashionable. But I promise that you will have your pick of any jewelry you like once we are wed.”
“I thank Your Grace,” the princess said with a slight bow of her head.
“You will have your pick of anything you want,” the duke added.
The princess repeated herself.
The duke nodded. “I’ve heard a great deal of your abilities, Princess. And I hope, well… pray that you will let me see that side of you.”
In disbelief, she bristled a bit. “Oh?”
The duke nodded. “I believe in the strength of women, Your Grace. I believe that it is kept a secret by lesser souls who fear said power. But I do not fear it, Your Grace. I wish to see it.”
Princess Eathebel kept her face still. She hid her expression, hiding the intrigue in her eyes as the duke spoke. He sounded genuine to her, and she knew what the alternative sounded like. She had heard the alternative far too many times to count. But she believed that said alternative that he really meant. She thought he was just feeding her whatever it was he thought she wanted to hear. She thought it was a trick, but as she picked apart his words and countenance, she saw no evidence to her theory. She saw no reason to doubt him, no fuel for her skepticism, and no deception in his eyes.
She tested him. “Suppose I will not lay with you, as a wife should with her husband?” the princess asked.
“I would take no offense,” he assured her. “I mean to have a companion, an equal in all things and all regards.”
The princess thanked him, but she was not sure what it was she was thanking him for. For being reasonable? That hardly seemed to be the sort of thing worthy of praise, even if it was a virtue so rare. Maybe it was just a part of her act, a part of the dance she was expected to go through, no matter what she thought or how she understood things around her. She was not sure. Regardless, she did what was expected of her. The time for her own wishes would come later. And she would savor it.
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I want his family to know that he was a good man. And that I never doubted that. My memories of him are fleeting because it happened when I was so young, but they were all of goodness. He was a good man, I promise you. Please don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
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The queen left the vial of poison where she was told to leave it. She left the poison where the king told her to: beneath the statue of his grandfather in the grand hallway that led into her chambers. The eyes would come for it, he whispered. As she knew the mysterious man would. With his skills being what they were, he did not need a poison like this, so carefully designed and brewed as to be impossible to detect. The man in the shadows could take a life with greater ease, but for the royal family, no one could know what had happened. Secrecy would be their salvation. The eyes in the shadows were already damned.
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I can’t imagine anyone coming to my aunt’s defense, but I know someone will. And I know that my defense will be a gateway to that. So don’t defend me. No matter what. Don’t defend me.
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“Another day, another feast,” the princess said to her intended groom.
The duke chuckled softly. “Well, it will be over soon,” he replied.
“Do you not like celebrations?” the princess teased.
“I admit not,” the duke said with a chuckle. He lifted her hand to his lips. “I love the reason for the celebration greatly but not the celebration itself.”
He kissed her hand as his words played in her head. They were things she had said before herself. They were thoughts that were very familiar to her but ones she had never voiced to anyone. It was odd hearing them out of another’s mouth. But she did not tell him that. She said nothing and turned straight ahead. It was not worth thinking about. What’s done was done and there was nothing more to say about it.
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Meanwhile, the young princess–the child of the royal family–was going around and greeting the crowd. It was her first time doing as much. These were the first royal duties she would ever undergo. Queen Evanora followed behind her as the young girl bowed to every noble in attendance and asked about their estates, their families, and the like. The young girl’s curtsies were still a bit clumsy, but she recited the details of each noble’s life perfectly. The crowd was amazed that a child so small could hold so much in her mind. She was brilliant, certainly. They whispered amongst themselves before moving on to the next amusement, the next performer or the like.
The king had spared no expense and no space in organizing his sister’s wedding festivities. The hall was full to bursting. It had to be. It had to be the sort of commotion that distracted the eyes and blurred the mind. The plan was fool proof, he thought, as he watched his daughter move through the crowd. It had to be. There could be no room for error, he thought again.
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There could be no room for error. Never any room for error.
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The young princess strayed out of the banquet room for a moment. A figure that she had not yet greeted caught her eye, and she was intrigued. She knew every single person at the banquet. Her mother had made sure of it. And so, the young princess, confused and curious, followed the movement, followed the shadows, and the eyes she could faintly see.
“Hello,” she called out.
Suddenly, a man appeared and knelt before her.
“Princess,” he said.
The young girl raked her small mind for a name, but one did not come. His face was very distinct, with scarring that no lord would be expected to have. After all, no lord fought his own battles: he had staff for that.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I come on a mission,” he said. Slowly, he pulled out a small bundle from his cloak pocket. He gently under wrapped the handkerchief and revealed a small pastry.
“Mission?” the young princess asked.
Queen Evanora had whispered that word to her and told her it was important. She knew that much. She knew her mother valued a mission. She knew it mattered to the kingdom. The young princess nodded her head.
“You are welcome to my father’s castle,” she said.
“Well, Your Grace, I must be going. So perhaps you could help me?” The man presented the pastry to the young girl. “Please give this to Duke Jemes. And tell him that it is a present.”
The young girl reached out and took the small item. It was only slightly bigger than her hand.
“A present?” she asked.
“Yes, Princess,” the man said. “And you must say it just like that. A present.”
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I hate presents. I really do.
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Duke Jemes brought his wine goblet to his lips but as he was savoring the drink, he saw the small head of his soon to be niece approach the table. He gestured for her to come closer, and she came right up to his side.
“I have a present for Your Grace,” the princess said, just as she had been told to do. All while her aunt and parents watched.
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Aishi Online is a production of Miscellany Media Studios. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. If you like the show, please leave a review, tell a friend, or donate to the show’s Ko-Fi account.