Chapter Eight- That of Poison and Roses

Eight

Words,

Words,

Words.

I search for them, but I cannot find the right ones. I cannot find words to explain the heaviness in my chest, like my heart itself is pressing down on my soul.

It’s sorrow, yes. But even more, it’s guilt.

Not again, please, not again.

I try to ease the tension in my gut, try and remind myself what everyone said last time.

It’s not your fault, Aily.

But what if it is?

I could’ve spoken up. Speaking up would’ve saved Miriam, all those years ago.

Maybe it could’ve saved my father too.

But I guess I’ll never know now. 

I look across to the door, the one with my father’s corpse behind it. We’re standing in the hallway of what I assume is the medical wing, though we could truly be anywhere. All the hallways here are uniform in their tall ceilings, maroon carpet, sparkling chandeliers. 

It doesn’t feel right for a place so beautiful to feel so heavy with death.

I wonder if the maroon carpet was chosen on purpose, perhaps to hide bloodstains in this wing. Of course, it’s more likely because maroon is the color on their flag.

Then again, isn’t the purpose of all beauty simply to hide bloodshed?

It’s not your fault, Aily.

But isn’t that why I have to dress up all pretty? To hide the bloodstains embedded in my soul? In the soul of our kingdom?

You must be beautiful, my mother told me once, because no one will follow an ugly royal. How can they take pride in their land when they are embarrassed of their queen?

My father was great at this.

He was wise, handsome, great with negotiations- a perfect king.

That is, because no one knew how he ignored his daughter all her life.

I don’t grieve my father because I loved him.

Yet, for some reason, I still grieve.

Perhaps I’ll never know why.