Ice Prince Chapter 14: A Day in the Wrong Direction

     Ever since that night the Princess seemed despondent – lost in her own thoughts, withdrawn; and no matter what anyone did she could not be consoled. This greatly distressed the Prince, so instead of one emaciated person to deal with the kingdom had two.

     Darrek set down his book for the twelfth time. He just couldn’t read during such circumstances. He and the Princess had been sharing a room for three days –nothing had happened in those three days and that was exactly what worried him! She hadn’t even complained as she got ready for bed yesterday or as she pushed herself to the far edge of the bed and curled up into a quivering ball. She hadn’t said a word to him after she said: “I had a bad dream.” Nothing.

     Quite frankly that worried him more than anything else. If they fought it – at least – meant that they acknowledged each other and were making headway, or if she got flustered it meant that something in her heart was moving, that perhaps he was catching up to the Princess’ heart; and they had took a step in that direction, or so he thought until the recent turn of events. This rift between them was what troubled him the most; it felt like Rika was slowly slipping away and he couldn’t do anything about it.

     “What do I do about it?” he muttered.

     “Whatever is in your power.”

     Darrek spun around, “Devon!”

     His brother was indeed behind him and quickly filled in the length between them. His face was strangely drawn – contrary to his nature. But his eyes were shining with that primal instinct that he harbored within.

     “It’s been awhile, brother.” Devon said, not a trace of malice in his voice; indeed, it almost seemed indifferent and Darrek would have thought as much if it weren’t for the glimmer in his half-brother’s eyes.

     “Where have you been for the past week?” Darrek asked casually, instinctively staying away from the subject that weighed on his mind.

     “Oh, here and there, and everywhere,” was Devon’s answer.

     Darrek didn’t let up. “Where?” he prodded trying to extract some secret from those dark eyes and the two would have stood in a stalemate, for quite some time, if one of them didn’t relent; but it was not the Prince that would give way but his brother –Devon.

     “To clear my head. I went to the lake house but it seems that the walls have ears even there and apparently mouths too.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “I mean, Darrek,” Devon said as he smiled a cheeky grin, but it was only fleeting and didn’t have its usual confidence or sense of cockiness, it seemed almost hollow, “that wherever I go someone is going to report it, and then that someone will tell it to someone else, until, at the very end of the chain, the message reaches the ears of the wrong person.”

     Darrek folded his arms over his chest. The meaning of Devon’s words didn’t make sense but they didn’t completely get past him. “I see.”

     “I think I overheard you speaking of some trouble and I assume that it revolves around the Princess.” Devon said, hitting his mark.

     “Yes, I was but it has nothing—“

     “On the contrary, it has everything to do with me.”

     “And why would you say that?”

     “Because we’re comrades in love…”

     Darrek stiffened, “What do you mean?”

     “I mean that we both are having trouble with women as of this moment.”

     “Oh?”

     “Yes, I think she followed me back here.” At what he said Darrek gave him a look but Devon only averted his eyes. In this he would not be swayed: “I have nothing left to say besides this, if it will get my mind off my own problems I wouldn’t mind helping you solve yours.”

     “I thank you, but I don’t know if there is anything you can do.”

     “Nonsense, I probably have more experience in disillusioned women than you do.”

     “I don’t think I get what you’re saying.” Bartholomew muttered.

     “I’m saying that you helped me once before so I want another favor. You’re the only one I can turn to at the moment.” I said.

     “Oh no, not one of your ‘favors’ again. You haven’t paid me back for the last one and your interest is racking up: pay off the debt you already have and then we’ll talk about your next endeavor.” Bartholomew said as he shooed me away with his hand as he stood from his lounging position. He tried to get past me but I was resolute.

     “No!” I ordered. “I need your help. And if you won’t help me can we just talk? Am I not even granted that much? If not from a priest from a friend…?”

     Bartholomew rolled his eyes as he stopped in his tracks, “What would you like to confess, milady?” He said with a theatrical bow.

     I sat down on the couch he had previously occupied, indicating that it would be awhile. I folded my hands as demurely as I could manage, trying to hide their shaking, but, of course, the priest’s sharp eyes caught everything. “I…Something has shown me how lucky I am and it’s shed some light on my feelings.”

     “Oh boy: love troubles,” Bartholomew sighed as he sat right next to me; this was going to take awhile.

     “How do I put this plainly?” I wondered aloud; right at that moment it seemed that I would never be able to get my feelings under control.

     “Just start talking and if something doesn’t make sense to me I’ll interrupt you. Sound fair?” I nodded in reply. “Good, now start with this: is it a circumstance or person that bothers you?”

     “I thought that it was the circumstances at first but…” I bit my lip.

     “It’s a person then: I bet it’s the Prince.”

     I looked at him with penetrating eyes. “How do you know these things?”

     “It’s easy for people who relate to each other to see eye to eye.” I looked at him questioningly but beyond that he would say nothing. “So it’s about the Prince; what did he do?”

     “It’s not about what he did, but what he hasn’t done.”

      “Awkward. This isn’t about getting down to it, is it?”

     I blushed a cherry-red as I shook my head vehemently, “No, no, no, nothing like that!” I stammered as I waved my hands about in a flustered manner. “He’s…He’s never…”

      “So it’s about love not lust. Phew!” Bartholomew whistled. “For a second there I thought I was going to have to excuse myself…Such a tempting subject…” he mumbled.

     “Bartholomew, could we please stay on topic!”

     “Oh right.” He said as he sat up rigid, trying to look alert, but no matter how you looked at it he seemed bored.

     “I love the Prince, Bartholomew.” I said as I turned to him, tears smarting my eyes, “Oh, Bartholomew, what am I going to do? If he, if the Prince doesn’t return these feelings will I be left to my own devices? Will it go on like this? Will I be forced to give up this love? Will I grow old without ever hearing those words? He will never…Maybe I should just give up—”

     Slap!

     My eyes widened as I felt a pain bolt through my left cheek, only adding to my tears. And I looked with bewilderment at the raised hand of the priest before me. “Why—?”

     “All I have to do is tell her how I feel…” Darrek muttered. “It will work: ‘Just be yourself, and true to your feelings.’ That’s what Devon said.” He said as he approached the library where Rika was holed up in and, ironically, the place he had done the same.

     He was about to knock on the hard wood when he heard some voices and instinctively pressed his ear to the door:

     “’I love,’” bits and pieces of conversation were picked up. “’Bartholomew…What am I going to do…the Prince…Will I be forced to…love…he…should just give up…’” there was more mumbling and then a sharp noise through the wood, which alarmed the Prince, but he remained glued to his spot, riveted on the words he was hearing.

     Then came Bartholomew’s voice, saying: “’ I couldn’t just sit by and let you slander your own feelings,’” his words were louder than Rika’s so the Prince had no trouble hearing this and, “’Don’t give up on this love.’”

     Darrek staggered back after the words settled. What he had heard rang in his mind: Rika loved Bartholomew and she thought that he was forcing her into love. She had said, or he thought she had said, that he should just give up. And Bartholomew had reaffirmed the Prince’s fears!

     He paled, “The two of them…are in love…” he whispered as he suddenly felt sick. He had to leave; he had to get away. What Devon had said was worthless; his feelings would only land on deaf ears. No wonder the Princess seemed so despondent after her move – she had been in love with the young priest all along.

     “So you’re going to tell him?” Bartholomew asked.

     “Yes, when the moments right.” Rika said as she smiled. “Thank you, Bartholomew.”

     “Don’t mention it. Love’s meant to be smooth but human components are a bit oddly shaped – you have to find the piece that fits.”

     “How do you know?”

     “Only you can figure that out.”

     “No, I mean, how do you know?”

     “Ferrina, what are you doing skulking around out here?” Amy’s voice jolted the Ambassador out of her reverie. She spun around to face the questioning gaze of her secretary.

     “I was just admiring the view.”

     “You’re lying.” Amy stated as she came up beside her friend. “Are you worried that Dannira is back…or Devon?”

     Ferrina smiled dryly. “I’m not worried about what they might do but about what they should do. It’s all too clear that they’re head over heels for each other. But Devon is too busy playing games in order to get her attention to even realize that he already has it.”

     “A match made in heaven…I suppose.”

     “And what about you, Amy?”

     “What are you talking about, milady?” Amy turned her head slightly to avert her eyes. But Ferrina only stared at her all the more.

     “One word from me and it can all be settled. You know that, dear; I would do anything for a friend.” Ferrina said as she placed her hands on Amy’s shoulders and felt them trembling beneath her touch.

     “That won’t be necessary; it’s my problem. I have to deal with it.”

    “Just don’t get hurt again. But from what I’ve seen Bartholomew has done a lot of growing up since then. And I think that this time he was just trying his best to please you.”

     Amy spun to face her as agony displaced her calm features. “I know that, Ferrina! I just…I just – I’m so confused; I don’t know what to think any more.”

     “You don’t have to. It comes naturally.”

     “And what about you, milady?”

     “Mine and Yavin’s wedding is in a month…I really need to wrap things up here quickly.” Ferrina sighed.

     “That’s not what I meant. Ivan is here you know; you two could sit and talk.” Ferrina only laughed. “It’s not something to laugh about! I’m serious. You’re so busy watching over others that you neglect your own needs! You need to take some time to settle your own feelings.”

      I glanced around the corner. There he was, and he was approaching at an alarming rate but I had to do this – now or never. If I ran I may never get it out. Right now I was fueled on pure adrenaline. You know, that feeling you get when you know something has to be done even when it may be harmful to your mind and nerves.

     I rolled back my shoulders and worked at the crick in my neck before I shut my eyes for a brief moment. “I can do this.” I whispered as I bolted from my hiding spot to nearly run into the Prince.

     His arm shot out to steady me, but it was not a warm feeling that shot through my skin where he was touching me. His hand felt like an iron band wrapped around my arm, numbing the nerves and cutting off my circulation. It hurt.

     I tried to ignore the pain searing through my arm and mask my features as I looked up at him but the stone face that he had stopped me dead in my tracks. He didn’t even look at me, his eyes level, “We need to talk.” He said in that same tone of voice I remember from the beginning. The Darrek that stood before me was none other than the Ice Prince.

     He yanked me along until we came to his study. And with much agitation and deliberation he wrenched open the door and tossed me inside. With slow, regal steps he followed me in and shut the door behind him.

     “Darrek, what is this about?”

     “That’s ‘Lord Darrek’ to you.” He said as he turned his head away and grimaced. He looked like he was about to be sick.

     I rushed to him but as I was about to place my hand on his shoulder he jerked away. He shot me a wary look, as if he had been stung and it pierced at my heart.

      I lifted my chin in an attempt not to show my sorrow as I wrenched these words from my mouth: “What is it you want with me, my Lord?”

     He looked at me with a cold exterior but his eyes seemed to belie what he felt. I saw brief pain flicker in them before it was overtaken by a chilly stare. “Rika…I want a divorce.”