Endless Winter - 4

THE COLD SPRING

The Wildflower saw the dust rising from a distance and heard the sound of hooves and her heart leapt. The Trees raised their heads to look around. The Royal Messenger sped towards them on a handsome black horse, the same messenger who always brought letters from her Prince. She tiptoed, her eyes in search of the Royal Carriage in vain.

Her Prince must have had sent a message to intimate her to get ready for the Palace. She grinned broadly in excitement and anticipation. If only he had come directly to meet her! She did not want any surprise. One endless season without him! It was too long without seeing him, without his touch...

The Messenger came to a graceful halt near her and getting down from the back of the horse swiftly, he bowed before her. She gave him a smile of recognition; he returned it rather grimly. He drew a letter from his breastpocket, a letter bearing her Prince's seal she immediately recognized. The letter that had his trace, his fragrance. She wanted to open it herself, smell it to her heart's content, move her fingers along the letters he traced with the ink...

She stopped herself from tugging at it with a great difficulty. She was soon to be a Royalty. An ungraceful show of eagerness and impatience wouldn't suit her. She stood stiff and straight faced waiting for him to hand her the letter as usual..

He did not hand the letter to her, instead he cleared his throat and read out loud in a steady tone.

"Dear Wildflower,

I won the battle a few days back and returned victorious to the Palace. I don't know how to tell you this but I cannot come to see you anymore. I cherish the moments spent with you but you must understand that a Prince's life is not easy. I cannot take you to the Palace. I cannot do anything that harms the dignity of the Royal Family. I apologise. I made a mistake.

- Prince"

She couldn't believe him. The words pierced her sharper than the winter she had endured waiting for her Prince did. Maybe she was just dreaming? No, she wasn't. There was a collective intake of breath from the Trees, an awkward rustling of the leaves. Forgetting all her pretense, she snatched the letter from the Messenger's hands; she could recognize her Prince's perfect 'S' the way he typically curved it. It seemed familiar... yet totally unfamiliar.

"Mistake." she whispered. The world spun around her frantically. She could even have stopped breathing. Her vision was blurred, the faint noise around her was coming from some distant, deep well. Her brain buzzed and stung as if attacked by wasps. No, the tears did not come. Some of the Trees tried to cover her with their branches protectively.

Could it be some kind of a jest? No. Prince could never play such a cruel joke. She re-read the letter till every word sunk in her brain.

"It is not true. Tell me it is not true! Has Prince given you this letter? Swear on something! Swear by your Gods." she pleaded the Messenger.

The Messenger hung his head. Then he looked in her eyes sadly.

"My Lady, I have been your messenger for three years. I solemnly swear by the God I have faith in. I do not lie. The Prince sent it himself."

There was a grave silence for a moment.

She burst into a laughter, a laughter that she did not recognize. Terrible laughter. Spine chilling. Unnerving. Cold. Mirthless laughter. Even the Trees shuffled their branches nervously. The Messenger backed off with a humble bow at her, rode his horse and left.

She stared after the Messenger, covered with the dust that the horse's hooves set into the air. For a long time, no-one spoke. The Trees exchanged anxious looks, not knowing how to console someone who isn't crying.

With the surge of fury that burnt into her eyes like a wildfire, she went to the spot where she had hidden the treasure she held dear. A thimble that her Prince had dropped once while teaching her archery, one of the soft feathers from a pillow in the Royal Carriage that felt as delicate as his touch, a multicolored stone that he had retrieved diving in the river for her, a silk thread from his sleeve that had tangled with her hair once while they kissed, his letters with his perfect handwriting, his fragrance worn off them already over the years... She threw them all around laughing hysterically, slapping herself.

"You were right! I was a fool." She told the Trees loudly with an unnatural high pitched laugh.

Why. 'Why' was all she thought day and night. The Prince was her life, but for him- she realized she had been nothing but a spark of a short lived adventure, all along.

Wildflower doesn't cry. Her tears have gone dry behind her eyes. Her wail of agony has died in her throat. She just sleeps a little less than she used to, laughs a little less than she used to, loves a little less than she used to.

Her wait for Prince is over. It's winter that just doesn't end for her.

- To be Continued...