It Was Real

Reyna woke up with a sharp numbing pain above the hip. The room faded into view. She saw the grey ceiling, the early pale light pouring through the window, then Rowan. He said something, his lips moving, yet she couldn't hear a single word; the buzzing in her ears was too loud.

Had she died in her sleep? It was the only good explanation for why Rowan was here. But from what she'd been told, the moment after you died should be painless. Right now her body was aching all over.

She lifted her head and saw that her dress was bunched up right below her breasts, her bottom private parts covered by a blanket. The bruises scattered all over her arms and torso had gone from red to blue. She was already too pale; now she looked like one of those lifeless paintings displayed in her father's reading chamber.

It was only then that she noticed her wound was now coated with this black slimy fluid, and she almost freaked out when Rowan applied some more to it with his black slimy fingers.

"This will heal you faster. Trust me," he said with his other hand on her knee.

She almost said she would trust him even if he led her to a cliff and asked her to jump. She was so madly in love with this man, it made her feel stupid, especially in this situation.

"What is that?" she asked and propped her head up.

"Magic," he replied, his lips curved a little. "Those sisters in the woods cured my wounds with these herbs, so I stole some just in case. I almost forgot that I kept them under the saddle." Then the corners of his lips lowered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think we'd need them for this...For you."

The remorseful look in his eyes led her to believe that he meant it. This Rowan was not the one who'd bellowed at her yesterday and made her feel like the most worthless being in the world. This Rowan seemed like her Rowan. She then pushed the idea to the back of her mind, so she wouldn't grow too attached to it.

Once Rowan finished, he cleaned his fingers with a rag that he kept on his lap, and turned away so she could cover herself. She smoothed down her dress, careful not to touch her wound and pushed herself up to sit with her back against the wall.

"Do you know who did this to you?" he asked.

Her gaze shifted from his face down to her wound. "My brother sent him."

"Why does your brother want to hurt you?"

"Everyone wants to hurt me," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

He considered her for a moment.

"Last night..."

Her head shot up as soon as she heard the words. It was only then that she remembered why he was here. He'd been here all night. She'd had a nightmare about the man at the market, woken up in the middle of the night, seen Rowan, and crawled onto his lap. She remembered crying so hard she couldn't speak. She remembered him holding her like he used to. Like he didn't hate her.

Her tears threatened to spill, and she had to inhale a shaky breath to hold them back. Rowan's mouth clamped shut before he even started his sentence. Perhaps he noticed her previous reaction and concluded that she didn't want to talk about last night.

She truly didn't.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said.

She averted her eyes, hands clasped on her stomach. "It's okay. I'm used to it." It sounded so pathetic when she whispered like that. "My brother and father used to yell at me all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay, Peach."

He called her Peach. He'd called her Peach last night, too. Not Your Highness, but that stupid name she'd grown to love more than her own.

"Did they always mistreat you?" he asked.

"My father called it tough love," she said with a sneer, shaking her head. "That was the only kind of love I knew after I'd lost my mother."

"There's no such thing as tough love. Either you love someone or you don't." After a moment's silence, he carried on, "What would you do when you return to the castle?"

She wondered why he suddenly took an interest in her life. If they were still acting normal toward each other, she would attempt to joke about it. Yesterday you hated me. Today you care. What's that all about, Rowan?

"Hug my uncle," she answered. "Take a walk in the rose garden. Eat all the food I want. Put on one of those pretty dresses that I can't breathe in." A small grin tugged at her lips. "Attend a ball and dance barefoot while all the guests stared and silently judged."

He let out a laugh so short she wasn't sure if her mind had made it up.

"I've attended the King's party once," he said.

She immediately turned back to him. "You have?"

"Not as an official guest, of course." He laughed. "That was after I'd met you by the river. I was in the castle to help Kenny's mother, who was one of the cooks for the party. Then Kenny and I snuck into the dining hall to observe the members of the gentry. I saw your father, mother, and brother. But you weren't there."

"My father ordered to have me confined in a tower."

"Because you almost drowned?" Rowan sounded aghast, or angry; she couldn't tell.

"Because I misbehaved."

Now that she thought of it, she realised she couldn't be royalty or even a nobody. She'd been somewhere in between her whole life. There was really no place for her in this world.

"I'm sorry I got in the way," she said. "If it weren't for me, you and Kenny would have been free by now."

When he sighed, she took a gander at him. He looked nervous and couldn't stop twisting the rag on his lap. "I'm not going anywhere with Kenny," he said. "I wouldn't even if you hadn't got hurt."

"Why not?" she asked, almost expectant.

"I said that to anger you," he admitted to his hands. "Or at least I hoped it would anger you. But I regretted it immediately. I was a coward; I couldn't handle the truth."

"What are you saying, Rowan?" she asked in a tone more urgent than the beating of her heart.

Before he could answer, the door swung open and Jenny barged right in. "They're looking for her," she said between short rapid breaths, then pointed a finger at Reyna. "You're...you're Reyna Callisto..."

Every time Reyna thought she couldn't be more ashamed of her name, someone would say it with insurmountable disgust, or fear.

This time, she hoped it was disgust.

"We can't turn her in, Gem," Rowan told his sister, who was shaking like a ghost. Eyes still broad with panic, she looked at Reyna like she could see right through her.

"They're coming for her. They'll kill us if–"

"My brother can't arrest me." Reyna tried to sound as positive as she could, but her voice was shaky. "A king's power is void outside his kingdom. We're all safe here."

Jenny kept shaking her head like she wanted to get it off her neck. "It's not your brother," she uttered. "It's...our Queen."

"Calanthe?"

Reyna had never met Calanthe. She'd only heard of her. The ladies in court had exchanged so many tales about what Reyna's father had done to Calanthe's family. She didn't know which of those stories were true, or if any of them was true, but she knew Calanthe had been married to Uncle Edgar because it'd been the only way for her to remain royalty. Reyna's father had felt deeply insulted when her uncle decided to wed an illegitimate princess, who was also the daughter of an enemy.

"Is my uncle looking for me?" Reyna asked. Hope grew inside of her, only to burst like bubbles when Jenny's expression turned grey.

"The King is...dead, Your Highness. He was murdered last night..."

The rest of what Jenny said remained unheard as the floor and ceiling started spinning out of control. The beating of her own pulse was all Reyna could apprehend before an inhuman scream tore through her body, and she collapsed like she'd been shot by ten arrows at once.

She screamed and screamed as Rowan folded her into his arms and clutched her like she might disintegrate across the floor. She reached for her own dagger, but his hand found hers first and pinned it to his chest, squeezing them as tight as he could until she caved in.

She cried and cried. She couldn't stop...

.

.

.

Rowan thought it was impossible to truly feel another's pain, but Reyna's scream had come so close. She'd screamed with her whole body, eyes wide with horror, mouth rigid and open as her nails dug deep into her own arms. By the time she'd lost her voice and could only weep quietly against his chest, she'd been covered with bruises, some blue, some red that she'd caused herself.

She still looked troubled after she'd passed out from exhaustion. It was like even in unconsciousness, she knew she'd lost everything she'd held dear. Her uncle had been her only purpose. Now Rowan feared there was no reason left for her to go on.

The thought had crossed her mind, he knew it. Her second instinct had been to reach for the dagger she'd always carried on her hip, only to remember she'd been unarmed. She hadn't been in her right mind to choose death, but she'd thought of it. She could have ended her life right in front of him.

Rowan had no idea how he'd drifted off, but in his dream, he saw Reyna waving him goodbye before disappearing into a veil of black smoke. He jerked awake, sweating and gasping for air only to find himself alone in the dark.

He pushed himself up and sprinted out of the pantry like he was on fire. He ran into Jenny outside the house; she was carrying two buckets of water in both hands. He asked her if she'd seen Reyna, and his sister blanched when she replied, "She just took the black horse and headed to the river."

Curses spurted out of Rowan's mouth as he broke into a run to the stable and took Lightning out. He rode on the mare's back through the city, galloping across the hills to Vidarr River, to where they'd first met. He hoped she was still there, and it wasn't too late.

.

.

.

At the riverbank. Dusk was falling. Reyna had lost track of time since she and Thunder had got here. In only a nightgown and a black coat, she sat as still as a rock by the water, legs crossed, chin on her knuckles. She was gazing thoughtfully at her reflection in the river when the galloping of a horse intruded the serenity of the forest. Her reflection blurred. She shot her head up and saw Rowan arriving on Lightning.

He unmounted the horse, strode straight toward her, and before she could say a word, he swept her into his arms. He was panting, chest rising and falling without rhythm. Then, she heard a sniffle.

He was crying.

"Did something...did something happen?" she faltered. If something had happened to his family while she was here–

"I thought you'd done something stupid, Peach," he croaked into her hair while holding her like she was his only possession.

She pushed away with her fists against his chest, lifted her chin, and took in the sight of his unbearable frown. Tears on his cheeks sparkled in the dusk-tinted light, while his green eyes were as clear and dark as the night river.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she brought a hand to his face and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Why did you leave the house?"

"I told Jenny I needed some fresh air..." She looked down, her hands returned to her sides and tightened into fists to resist touching him again. "Don't worry. Nobody saw me."

She felt his fingers in her unruly hair. He combed them through her soft curls and rested his palm at the nape of her neck. Then he lowered his head, guardedly, leaning closer, his warm breath fanning her burning face.

She almost tiptoed and met his lips halfway to forget about everything else for just a short-lived moment. But the voices in her head didn't allow her to do it. She drew back, arms secured around herself. His hand, which had previously touched her hair, halted midair as he didn't know what to do next.

"I have to go."

"What do you mean?" He sounded scared. "Go where?"

"To the castle. To see Calanthe."

"Peach..."

"There's a monetary reward tied to me. If you bring me to her–"

"Fuck! Would you stop that?" he snapped and shoved his hands in his tangled long locks, turning away. She touched his shoulder. He brushed her off. She touched him again, this time fisting his shirt and forcing him to face her.

"You have to trust me, Rowan," she said calmly despite herself.

He shot her an agonising glare. "I don't want money. I want you. I want you to be safe. I want you h-here. With me. Where I'll keep you safe."

"It's not that easy." She could barely hear herself.

"It is! Listen." He caught her hands and brought them to his chest, his eyes desperate and hopeful at the same time. "We'll run far away from here where no one can find us. Let's go West, or East, cross the ocean; I don't care. I just want to be with you so I can protect you."

He was saying everything he'd said to her in her dreams. Those were everything she'd wanted to hear. The only thing missing was those three words, which she prayed he wouldn't blurt out at this moment.

Sometimes the things we wanted were the things we couldn't have. And it'd be selfish to take them knowing you didn't deserve them.

"I would never be safe if I kept on running," she whispered, not sure if that was to herself or to him.

"Calanthe will kill you, Peach."

"She can't kill me. She's not allowed. Not when I'm still the Princess of Isolde and she doesn't have proof that I killed my uncle, because I didn't."

Rowan stalled for a moment before he said, "It's Egon..."

She gave an assertive nod, her lower lip trembling. "I don't know how he'd done it, but I know it was him, and Calanthe is falling right into his trap. She wants to use me as bait to start a war with the North, which is exactly what Egon wants. He's killed our uncle and he'll kill her, too, because she knows nothing of politics and therefore is incapable of ruling a kingdom on her own. The people and alliances of Theros were already against my uncle's marriage to her; if she takes me as her prisoner without any proof of my crimes, the other kingdoms will turn against Theros and support Egon in the war."

She halted to suck in a breath, her entire body shaking.

"Let me come with you then," Rowan broke the silence.

"I c-can't." She shook her head, her heart beating louder and faster. "I can only guarantee my own safety. They'll kill you. I can't let them kill you..."

As she burst into tears, he held her face and inclined his head. She thought he would kiss her, but he didn't; he kept their foreheads together, his eyes squeezed shut like he was in pain.

"I can't let them kill you," he growled. "I don't trust anyone. Not Calanthe. Certainly not your brother."

"Egon doesn't want to kill me; he just wants me to come back. And I don't know why. I honestly don't know why he can't let me go, but I have to take responsibility for what I've done. I have to surrender."

There was a moment when neither of them moved or made a sound, and all she could hear was the rustling of leaves and sighing of water. She wished time would stop, and they'd be here, like this, forever.

"Peach," Rowan's voice brought her back to reality. "I have to tell you something."

She hid her nervousness with a straight face while her pulse began to flutter. "What is it?"

"That night, at the King's party–" her chest expanded with relief even though she was half-disappointed; those weren't the words she'd expected to hear "–there was a lady who arrived in the middle of dinner. She was one of the royal guests. Beautiful, white-haired, dressed in all black, a shiny smile..."

"Did she have a gold tooth?"

"I think so...Have you met her?"

"Right after I met you." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "She called me Princess, or...Your Highness. I don't remember if she said anything else, but she knew who I was. I was so scared, so I ran."

"She was a witch."

"A witch?"

How come no one had told her about this witch? Not even her uncle who had invited the witch to his own party?

Rowan went on despite her puzzlement. "Your father didn't believe in magic. So the witch offered to tell the fate of his kingdom by reading Egon's palm. She said Egon becoming King would endanger the people of Isolde." Hesitation ensued. "And..."

"And what?"

He brushed his thumb across her cheek, his eyes dimmed like he was looking at something he wholeheartedly desired but could never possess.

"You're the saviour in the prophecy, Peach."

It took her a moment to let that sink in, and when it did, she started shaking her head. "No, no, no, that can't be true. I'm not....I-I can't!"

She couldn't be the saviour. She couldn't even save herself. Everyone around her died, either for her or because of her. If there was a word for someone who brought death upon people without intending to hurt anyone, she would be that word.

She glanced back up at Rowan's face, hoping he'd agree with the voices in her head and tell her she wasn't the saviour, just a naive girl who caused trouble everywhere she went to whomever she met.

She wasn't the saviour.

The corner of his mouth turned up and dropped so fast she almost didn't notice. "Egon's afraid of you. He can't kill you because he doesn't know what would happen to his kingdom if he killed the hero in the prophecy. That's why he wants to keep you in his castle to make sure you don't turn against him and take the throne."

The idea of her being the saviour was preposterous enough, she could not dare to imagine herself as...

The Queen.

She stepped back, stopping just before she fell into the water. She couldn't feel her toes, couldn't even look him in the eye. Was the ground beneath her feet shifting or was it her who was shaking?

This wasn't as simple as submitting herself to Calanthe and talking the poor woman out of another meaningless war. If the prophecy was true, Egon would be the death of Isolde. She had to take power back from him. But how? She couldn't even take a sword from his hand.

"Saviour or not, I have to do something," she said almost to herself. "I can't run away forever."

Before he could speak, she had turned and strode back to her horse. She mounted Thunder and looked down at Rowan; his mouth was agape like he wanted to say a lot more.

"I'll meet you at the house," she told him, kicked the horse, and rode away.

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.

.

Reyna tramped around the pantry to collect all the things that belonged to hers – her sword, her coat, the clothes she'd worn when she arrived, and her gloves – while he watched anguishedly from the doorway. She cleaned the entire place until there was no sign that she'd been here.

As she stopped to survey the room to make sure she left nothing behind, he couldn't help the thought that when she walked out this door, she'd disappear from his life like a ghost. Just thinking about it made him feel like his heart had been ripped out.

"Will your wound be alright?" he asked, despairingly needing a reason to keep her around.

"It's gotten better," she said with a reassuring smile. He knew she wasn't lying because those herbs were indeed magical.

Selfishness rumbled in his chest. He wished he'd never cured her. Her wound would heal eventually, with or without the herbs, but if she left to be the saviour she was destined to be, she might be killed, or worse, live and continue to endure her brother's abuse.

He opened his mouth as she bent down to pick up a few coins on the floor, yet stopped himself before he could beg her not to go. He could have vowed to be her humble servant for the rest of his life, as long as she ran away with him and let him take care of her. But that wasn't what she wanted. Her destiny was bigger than him, than her, than both of them. If she succeeded, she would take the throne. She'd have all the humble servants she wished for, and marry a king.

"All right. I've got everything I need." She turned back to him with a tight smile while fidgeting with the fur on her coat draped over one arm. She must expect him to move out of the way so she could leave, but he remained standing at the door, like a royal guard refusing to take her order.

"If you really want to leave, I cannot stop you," he blurted before he could help himself. "But please answer one question."

"Rowan," she stressed his name as if to beg him not to speak. He didn't care. They would never cross paths again, so this might be his only chance to ask.

He raised a finger and swallowed in an attempt to wet the dry patch in his throat. "One question. Then I'll let you go."

She regarded him with contemplative eyes. "What is it?"

He pushed his tongue into his cheek, staring at everything in the room but her, while she waited, arms folded over her chest.

"From the moment we met until now," he said. "Was there anything real?"

He watched her expression soften as she thinned her lips and inspected his face. She looked baffled yet sorrowful.

"Because it was all real for me," he appended, his throat closing in. "I'm...pathetically...in love with you."

She froze, her eyes too large for her face. It was the same look she'd given him when she woke up last night and saw him. He wondered what it meant. Did she not want to hear those words? Did she hate them? Did she not care?

"Does this mean no?" he trembled.

She still said nothing.

With two long strides, she closed the distance between them, dropped her coat to their feet and cupped his face with both hands. Her delicate touch made him feel so precarious, like he might crumble if she let go. He brought his hands up and placed them over hers. He peered at her face; she looked breathtakingly beautiful when she cried.

"We were the only thing that was real," she said to him.

He didn't know he was crying, too, until he felt hot tears running down his cheeks. He dropped his head as she arched her neck, meeting his lips halfway for a fiery kiss that got his head spinning.