Heirs of the Gods

Ch 74: Never enough

Warnings for violence, blood and strong verbal violence.

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The winter storm that had already engulfed Gerrathea wouldn't take long to hit Cereas. It was visible in the biting winds raging against rolling hills and the moody grey sky looming above, barely tinged with pink.

The halls of the castle were a riot of toasty brown, dark green and light ochre wool coats. In her fur-lined black cloak, Ella stood out, as she made her way across the palace, nodding for the curious courtiers.

"Hello, Melyn," she greeted a maid she recognised, a woman that had served her during the weeks she lived in Cereas.

The orange-skinned faerie came forward, bowing deeply, a gesture Ella had assured her wasn't necessary, but the young maid refused to accept. "Princess Elowen, how may I help you? Are you looking for Princess Briar? Her Highness is out for the morning, gone to Hazel Brook, to deliver coats and winter boots for the school children."

It was also long since Ella had given up on correcting her over the title. Ella wasn't a princess. Her father had been the brother of a King and thus, a prince, but in Faerie, the title of prince and princess was only awarded to the children of the King, and his siblings. Ella was, by title, a High Duchess, or rather, High Lady. But then again, no one other than the aristocracy bothered with learning the tedious in-and-outs of titles and ranking.

"I'm looking for Prince Gidden, actually. Is there any chance I could speak with him?"

"His Royal Highness is out right now, but he'll be coming by soon enough, he's only gone to the borders briefly. Would you like to wait for him in the parlour?"

Ella bit the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing. She could perfectly picture Gidden's pained grimace whenever anyone addressed him as Prince, or heaven forbid it, His Royal Highness.

She delighted in imagining his expression when she told him of Melyn's words. That is... if he forgave her. The thought sobered her enough, and she accepted Melyn's offer to show her to a sitting room.

Ella accepted the teacup handed to her by Melyn more as something to do with her anxious hands. The tea service in front of her remained untouched long after the maid had gone. Creamy cakes and buttery biscuits that would have seemed appetising had it not been for her churning stomach.

Ella reached for her pocket and thought better of it, letting her hand fiddle with the buttons on her cloak instead. The letter in her pocket practically burned a hole through the material, but she didn't take it out.

It had taken her multiple tries to write it properly and a bin full of crumpled up reject-letters. Still, her words had come out clearly.

Write if you don't know what to say, Aedion had told her, so she had. Ella didn't trust she'd know how to convey her feeling to Gidden when she faced him, but writing out her thoughts had made her ideas clearer and more structured.

She would apologise, and her letter would do all the speaking.

After thumping her jittery leg on the floor for what felt like forever, she abandoned her plush seat and her now lukewarm cup of tea in favour of pacing the room, before walking over to one of the large windows.

The gauzy teal curtains had been pulled back with ribbons, revealing the outside of the palace. Sprawling parklands of well-groomed gardens, trees, rolling hills and ponds. She smiled, watching as Fraz practised riding lessons with his instructor.

He jumped over small, knee-heigh hurdles with his horse, a lazy and sweet-tempered mare with a glossy black coat covered in large white spots. Miss Moo, he'd named her. Apparently, questionable pet name choices ran in the family.