The Way We Fall

Chapter 156 (Roche)

Roche swerved around a courtier who blinked twice at her, his gaze running over her fine gown. Roche felt her cheeks heat despite this being one of countless times that she'd drawn such a stare. The gown Tigris had gotten her was not one for servants with its fine silk and careful, hand stitched patterns.

She shifted the tray of short eats to one hand, running her freed fingers down the delicate embroidery. The curling script felt alive beneath her fingers. Pure joy filtered through her. Tigris had really thought this gift through. For all of the princess' faults, she was a loyal leader and friend. Roche felt a stir of pride as she wove through the crowd of mingling courtiers, catching sight of her lady. She was proud to serve Tigris. Now more than ever, she had no doubts about the future the princess was destined to bring.

Kai was somewhere up ahead of her standing between Tigris and the king. After Finn's betrayal, he'd become the king's caretaker. Roche should also be up there, next to the dais, but Tigris had sent her to grab some snacks before the festivities went into full swing.

She was so distracted that she nearly strode into one of the entertainers worming their way to the front of the crowd. They both let out twin cries of surprise as Roche scrambled to keep her tray upright. She looked up at the woman, an apologetic smile already upon her lips.

"I'm so sor-"

She faltered, shock running through her. Because the face she was looking at wasn't that of a stranger's. She would recognise that smooth, tawny skin, ebony hair, and wise grey-blue eyes anywhere.

"Medea," Roche breathed, her fingers slackening around the tray. The woman's lips stretched into a smile, and Roche's heart twinged painfully. Because that smile was too wide, so unlike Medea's shy, devious curl of lips.

Roche blinked, and suddenly Medea wasn't staring back at her. It was an elderly woman with rich, dark skin, ebony eyes, and a twisted knot of grey hair. The woman's eyes twinkled as she tilted her head. Her golden earrings twinkled, brushing against her silk swaddled shoulders.

"I'm sorry, that's not my name," the woman replied, her voice like the rustling of a dry corn husk. So unlike the smooth, honeyed tone of Medea's voice.

Roche swallowed, stepping aside respectfully. "Sorry, I thought you looked like someone I knew." she managed to say. The crone shrugged forgivingly and slipped by.

Roche stared after her, an uncomfortable swirl of emotion filling her chest, doubt singing strongly. She half wondered if what she'd just seen was the product of a grieving mind. But the image of Medea's face had been so vivid. It was as if the image of her late lover had been conjured from her mind exactly.

Doubt and suspicion mingled in Roche's chest. She followed the woman's path, watching as she deftly wove through the crowd with her silks piled high over her head. She didn't spare anyone a glance, and everyone ignored her as well. The woman seemed intent on getting to the front of the room.

To the dais.

Roche hurried forward, glancing around. Tigris and Kai were utterly unaware of who approached, linking their hands together behind the king.

Dread curdled her gut. She practically ran to the front of the room, dodging courtiers much more deftly than the elderly woman. She made it to Tigris' side. The princess chuckled at something her father said before leaning over to Kai. Whatever she whispered in his ear made him sputter.

Roche held out the platter of short eats, standing staunchly by Tigris' side. "Want a snack?" she asked loudly. Tigris and Kai's hands sprang apart until they noticed who it was. Tigris scowled.

"Damn it, Roche!" Tigris hissed, forcing a pleasant mask back onto her face before any of the courtiers could notice her lapse, "I nearly flipped the damn table."