The Way We Fall

Chapter 19 (Roche)

TW: Blood and injury. Please read with caution.

The royal children had spent the remainder of the day in the library, prowling through the stacks like lions. Roche didn't miss the dangerous glint that still flickered in Aodh's eyes and decided to remain in her chambers for the rest of the day to avoid earning another bruise.

The datura petal stared at her tauntingly from where she'd placed it on the pillow of her bed. She glared at it furiously. The image of a pale, unresponsive Finn was seared into the back of her eyelids.

Aodh was right.

She was to blame for this.

She'd been so fixated on the king she hadn't noticed the flower being slipped into his son's drink. She'd been a fool. Recalling her earlier triumph made her cringe.

"I'm such an idiot." she murmured, pressing her hands against her burning eyes. And now, the prince would pay with his life.

It was many hours until Roche heard the enraged slam of the library doors, a sure sign that the royals had left. She slipped out of her chambers, into the shelves to rifle through books. With all these texts, surely there had to be something about datura enchantments.

The evening sun dwindled to a faint orange glow. Roche kept looking, stacking books about poisons into her arms even though none of them were what she needed. The stack she balanced precariously in her arms was nearly as tall as her when she heard the library doors swing open again. Roche dropped the books, fully expecting the furious prince to strangle her. But it was only Verita, looking weary and rumpled. Roche rushed towards her.

"How is he?" she asked. Her heart sank as Verita sighed sadly.

"He only has a few days, at best." Verita replied blankly. Roche followed her to their quarters. They both sat on the bench, exhausted and devastated.

"I don't understand," Verita whispered, holding her head in her hands, "How did this happen? I thought the flower had been destroyed. You sensed it, didn't you?"

Roche nodded, dazed. "Of course," she answered, "When the ambassador told the servant boy, Ganymede to- oh."

"What?" Verita asked with a note of alarm as Roche jumped to her feet. Roche couldn't believe herself. She smacked her forehead.

"It was a distraction!" she realized aloud, meeting Verita's wide eyed gaze, "He drew the attention to himself while the boy was pouring Finn's drink. The flower must have been slipped in then, right before the boy went to serve the king."

Verita's eyes widened. The realisation made Roche press her hands against her head. "I'm an idiot!" she snarled, so loud that it echoed off the walls. Verita shook her head.

"It wasn't your fault." the librarian said softly, "You did what you could."

Roche laughed humourlessly. "It wasn't enough. And now..." she trailed off.

An innocent boy would die.

The one, kind royal who'd defended her.

The one royal who'd been willing to speak out against the king's war against Irulia.

And it was all. Her. Fault.

Verita murmured something soothing, but Roche didn't hear it as she retreated to her chambers. She flipped through all the books she'd found about datura until her candle had melted into nothing but a puddle of wax. She hadn't realised she was crying until she felt something wet trickling down her cheeks. Roche carefully set aside the priceless book on her nightstand. After a long moment, she stood and headed for the washroom. She found a small washbasin and razor, braced herself, and nicked her palm. She cupped her hands, watching the dark inkblood surface and swim around lazily between her fingers.