And then something happened that the writer did not intend . . . (all explanations and excuses after the chapter)

Chapter Eleven - Some Love Lost

You did not see that I loved you
But you saw a love of your own
And though I would have been true
You may only reap what is sown
– Bilanciato

When Mother had been properly convinced, we began our next project: what we could do to prevent the prince's plan from succeeding. After a few half-offered ideas, I felt pressed to say, "Mother, Ada and I have been through something like this before. I believe the only way to succeed is for me to confront the prince myself."

Mother looked like she might cry again, but said in a firm voice, "You will not leave your bed until Dr. Candavish pronounces you fit enough, no matter what the rumors are."

"The problem is not just the rumors, Mother," Ada said vehemently. "The prince plans to – "

"Yes, yes," Mother interrupted tiredly. "I know, but that is not what matters. Too much exertion could lead Irene to a relapse, is that what you want?"

"I am the only one who can stop this, Mother. Otherwise, Ella will become queen. Is that what you want?" Usually, I do not care for speaking this way to one's mother, but her comment to Ada when I was right there had rankled me not a little. Mother turned pink and speechless.

Ada gave a resigned sigh. "I have to agree with Irene. Mother, there is no other way. This is our only choice. However, I do not think it would be wise for Irene to attempt to leave the house for at least . . ." She looked me over for a moment. "A week."

"A week!" Mother and I said at the same time, frustrated for different reasons. Quite suddenly, we heard a loud noise downstairs. "Ella's home," Mother whispered, her eyes wide, and left the room quickly. I gave Ada a questioning look. She sighed again.

"Ella has been – away from home for the last few days," Ada explained shortly.

"The last few days?" I echoed incredulously.

"I supposed that the news about Prince Lawrence and you had hurt her, but of course, I told Mother no such thing. I really cannot imagine that Ella went anywhere else except . . ." She looked at me mournfully and in my heart, I felt the same way. Ella must know the plan. The future was even grimmer than we had thought.

I fidgeted slightly and adjusted my pillow. My finger, only somewhat subconsciously, traced the words "Dearest Irene" as I hummed a tune I could not remember the name of and waited. Somehow, the pace of life slowing down so much had not been as calming as one would think. No, it had rather the opposite effect. Two short knocks sounded on my door, and Ada poked her head in with a small smile. "Mother and I are going to church now, Reney."

"All right," I responded, attempting to hide the title of the book in my lap. "I will try not to miss you too much."

"Ha ha," she said as she closed the door. I heard Mother and Ada murmuring as they left the house. I leaned back just a little to watch them from out of my window as they strolled down the street.

Moving carefully, I pushed myself away from my pillow a little, turned myself towards my window and placed my feet on the floor. With my eyes shut and a small prayer, I stood up, a hand hovering near the wall just in case. I was determined to make it to the door today without any assistance from the wall and try my luck with the stairs. My legs no longer shook violently, but they shook all the same. I stumbled unsteadily to the door and only touched the wall once, very briefly. Though it was not my goal, it was a vast improvement from the first day. As I stood at the top of the stairs, trying my best to focus on what I was about to do, my thoughts wondered to a subject that it had been dwelling on rather often as of late.

My heart still felt a little tender from Nat's words, even though I knew the cause of them now. I tried to imagine how his heart felt when he heard that I was to marry Prince Lawrence and wanted, more than anything, to hit something, preferably my cousin or my stepsister.

The anger I felt boiling deep down inside of me took me by surprise, and I wondered, briefly, if it was another side effect of love. I certainly never felt fire threatening to burst out of my veins before now, even when Ella was at her worst. I conjured up my last view of Nat: I had misinterpreted the look in his green, green eyes, but now I saw the pain that he had been masking with anger. When Nathaniel Grey was hurt, he was hurt deeply. Deep hurt is hard to recover from, I knew.

I felt on my lips the ghost of Nat's kiss and beat down the impulse to cry. I shook the thoughts from my head and took a step forward.

I should not have let my mind wander so far from the task at hand. My graceless trip down the stairs certainly brought it back. The stinging thuds told me I was bruised, but my bones, at least, were safe – there were no cracks. I landed with one foot on the bottom stair, one leg folded underneath the other and flat on my back, with the ceiling talking up the entirety of my view. I was certainly glad that there was no one who had seen my embarrassing mistake, especially since I could tell that my skirt was scandalously askew. I rubbed my forehead and felt the beginnings of a headache.

When I was finally standing upright, I inspected myself and found bleeding cuts on my right arm and hand. As I took a careful step towards the store, where there were a few small bandages in the desk, I heard footsteps on the porch and the doorknob twisting. My cheeks flushed, but I knew it was useless to try to run back to my room. The door opened and I prepared to explain myself to Mother and Ada. Thinking it might be best to confess right up front, I began, "I thought I could –"

"Miss Irene, I thought you were under strict orders to stay in bed," Edmund Tanner said, closing the door with a bit of a grin and a twinkle in his light eyes. Struck speechless, I sat down on the stairs. "Oh, I would never dream of tattling, but I have to admit that – are you bleeding?"

"Er, yes. I was just going –" I started.

"Of course, of course," Edmund murmured hurriedly. "Here, let me –" Here he took my unharmed arm gently and pulled me up. "Lead the way," he instructed grimly.

He was mostly silent as he cleaned and tended to my wounds – there were a few more I had missed in my look-over – and when I recalled that his father was also a doctor, I relaxed a little and let him move my limp appendages. After he was through, he lost most of the serious, professional manner that he had adopted doctoring me. "So, what happened?"

"I fell down the stairs," I admitted, feeling my face warm again. "I know it was foolish to attempt them, but I had been walking all right –"

"Now that does not come as a surprise," Edmund interjected. He was prone to interrupt everyone – himself included – and one got used to it after a while. "You were always a fast learner, or, in this case, relearner."

I was unsure of how to respond to this unexpected compliment, so instead I said, "Now that I am well, would you care to inform me or your purpose here?"

Edmund became serious once more. He turned from me as he replaced all of the leftover bandages in the desk drawer. He uttered his reason, still fiddling with the items in the drawer, "Nat."

Nat. . . I was overrun with thoughts and emotions and placed a steadying hand on the desk. Breathlessly anxious, I managed to squeak out, "Nat sent you?"

He finally shut the drawer and looked me in the face. His eyes were sad. "No, Irene. He did not." Suddenly but not at all unexpectedly, I felt as gray and worn as an overused washcloth. Edmund's eyes grew sadder yet and there was some movement that I caught only a glimpse of – I rather think he had almost reached out to touch my hand but thought better of it. Letting out a sigh, he said, his voice low and gentle, "Perhaps we should talk in the living room."

"Yes," I heard myself answer. I took a step and Edmund was immediately at my side, a hand loosely clasping my forearm. I led him to the back of the house and into the living room. Perhaps I stumbled and perhaps I even fell, I could not tell you for I have no memory of the journey.

We sat for a little while in silence, facing each other, a scant handbreadth apart. The window to our small garden seemed a safer subject for my eyes than Edmund, so I watched the sun glowing brightly on a green world as he spoke. "Irene, I have not always been the most observant when it comes to the inner-workings of Nathaniel Grey's heart, but there are certain things that I cannot even miss. I have a feeling that he met up with you shortly before your . . . incident, and I can just imagine what words he spoke. I wanted you to know that when I saw him the next day, he was positively distraught. Alexander, of course, told him about finding you on the street as they did, and how you were so pale and cold they really were not even sure that you were still – you should have seen him then, Irene; he was so utterly hopeless and so full of guilt he really could not even speak about it."

The words were buzzing through my head, but hope would not come to me so easily. I heard my voice, full of acidic hardness, responding quickly, "If he was really 'so full of guilt,' why is it not he who is before me, and why is it not his voice that is informing me of it? Why did he leave me the way I was, with his last words echoing endlessly in my mind? Why did he not run as fast as his legs could carry him to my side when he heard that I was awake?" To my horror, I felt my eyes tingling with salt water as my words became ragged. "Do not play games with my feelings, Edmund Tanner, I have had enough of that sort of thing to last me quite a while –"

Edmund said nothing, simply let me dissolve into a sobbing mess of a heartbroken girl. Again, he made a small movement, but this time it was completed, and he tugged me gently nearer to him so he could give me a loose hug. It was nice to have a shoulder to cry on, which I had had to do without since my father died. I was glad that he felt no need to murmur meaningless comfort in my ears, as it would not have stilled my grief in the least. My eyes finally exhausted of liquid pain, I gave a small hiccough and Edmund pulled away, making no attempt to touch my face or fix my hair. I let my long bangs stay caught in the wetness of my cheeks as we sat in a different kind of silence. Finally, he spoke again, in a voice even quieter than before.

"I know you were hurt by Nat's words, and I know what kinds of things Nat tends to say when he is also hurt, as you do. He does not dwell on them or think over them, just lets them fly out of him, red-hot and burning to the touch." Edmund closed his eyes a little and I could imagine what former pain he was recalling. "But you must know, Irene, how quickly he repents of it inside of himself. He is a proud man and even if he knows he has made a mistake, he – he is not always so willing to let someone forgive him." I could not have known Nathaniel Grey for as long and closely as I have without stumbling upon this fact. I nodded.

There seemed little more to say, but Edmund made no movement from the room or even from the chair that he sat in. He tilted his head to the side, his longish red hair brushing the collar of his Sunday shirt, with almost a smile on his face. "You have been through quite an ordeal these past weeks. But if I may say so, Miss Graham, you are looking practically radiant right this minute."

Another hiccough, this one of surprise, escaped me, and I looked intently at the man across from me. His words were not uttered with the height of flattery or even sincerity, but it made me wonder. He had, after all, asked me to dance, had come to visit me when I was ill, had tended to my wounds, both physical and otherwise, with a gentle touch, and then to say that I looked radiant, even practically so. . .

The grin on his face had acquired a trace of bitterness while I mulled all this over. "I suppose," he said lightly, "that all of that is rather too late now." Before I had a chance to say anything at all, he stood up, gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes as sad as ever, and left me with only a wry, "Do be careful on that staircase."

I sat, my cheeks still quite damp from too many tears and my hands shaking. This was far too much for a girl to handle – I felt rather as if I had been taken up to touch the sky only to be dropped before I had the chance to reach out my hand. For how long had Edmund Tanner watched his best friend woo the girl he loved? Yet he had never shown any sign of it at all, not even a hint, even as he doctored my wounds. Could it be that he had never even hidden it, but I was simply too focused on Nat? "Half-blind with love," I repeated, in a sharper voice than Ada had used originally.

It took me a while to stand up, as my all ready unsteady limbs had not quite gotten used to the knowledge of Edmund's secret. But stand I did, and I slowly made my way back to my room, taking special care on the staircase. With every stair I stepped upon, I felt as though someone was tearing my heart a little more. By the time I had reached the bed, I could no longer make out anything but hazy shapes as I stumbled and cried, needing someway to get the hurt and confusion out of me. It was too much; it was simply too much . . .

Ada woke me gently, brushing a hand through my hair and not even speaking, only humming a gentle tune. I found myself clutching my pillow as one would clutch a rope that was the only thing between them and hurtling down to their death. I turned my face to behold my older sister. She wore a sad smile and her shoes – she had come straight from the door to check on me. "My dear," she murmured after a long moment of patient waiting, "what has occurred?"

I turned my body around so that I could lie on my back and see her whole self as I spoke. My voice was still rough. "Ask me later. I do not care to cry again."

Ada nodded and then looked me in the eye. "Shall I go then?"

"No," I replied sharply, skimming my hand across the bedspread to grasp hers. She noticed the bandages but one look from me told her that this was not to be discussed at present. She took it firmly but carefully and she swallowed hard, as if attempting to keep her feelings at bay. Her mouth opened and shut with a sigh. I saw that she had something she wished to say but worried that I might not want to hear it, so I gave my consent with a nod.

"Seolai was at church today," she said, her eyes wide and her voice tinged with disbelief. I tilted my head in wonderment. "I know, he said he would be gone for a long time and that he had much to do in Jhiline. I was distracted through the whole service, trying to imagine why he was back so soon. The service ended . . ." Ada seemed to have lost her train of thought completely. She stared at my bookshelf as if entranced, with an expression of absolute blankness on her face.

"And then?" I prompted.

"And then we talked," she replied softly, not taking her eyes off the bookshelf or losing the look in her eye. "He – he has broken off our engagement."

"What?" I said, my voice screeching painfully.

"He was very nice about the whole thing," Ada continued, as if I had not said anything at all. "He said he had had a lovely time with me, and that I was a lovely girl, and that he had acted impulsively, without thinking of the millions of consequences to his actions." She spoke the words hollowly and with a resigned air, almost as if she were telling a story.

"Ada," I whispered, as she pulled her hand from mine.

"It is finished between us now," she said, although the declaration lacked any fire with which to convince me. "Seolai has so many responsibilities, you know, to his parents and his brother and his country. He – he would only be burdened down by marriage."

"Some have managed it," I replied curtly, clenching my jaw. Ada finally turned her gaze from the bookshelf and gave me a hard and unyielding look.

"It is for the best," she said fiercely. "Do not suggest anything else." I murmured her name again, pleadingly, and reached out a hand, but she pulled away. "I have made my peace with it," she announced, standing up, looking more regal and inaccessible than she ever had before. "That is all I have to say on the matter." Then she was gone.

I really, really, really did not mean to make Edmund in love with Irene or split up Seolai and Ada. I totally promise. I really do want to write a happy chapter with lots of lovin and . . . not depressing-ness. And eventually we'll get there, I SWEAR! (Oh, and Bilanciato Ky'loe. It is Italian for balanced and sounds niffy.)

The reason I update slow I write slow. So it's not really about to change . . . on the other hand, I will have lossa time this summer for fixing this mess I've turned S&S into.

Really, all of you are unbelievably nice to stick with me and this story. Thank you! And because I'm in that kind of mood, I'll list you all right here! Arein, Lady Kazaana, Hayley, Scoutcraft Piratess, mythicalmemory, cinnamon, and Tiger Lily21! Yay I love you!

Hm, because you'll be at a loss of what to say besides "Holy cow, what the heck was THAT," tell me what your favorite scene has been in this story (or maybe the scene you hated the least, if you're iffy about this baby).

Free chocolate/candy/tofu for everyone!

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