The Empress' Descent

Chapter 17 - Distant Memories

[Cynthia]

Solaria's princess could often be seen reading storybooks to orphans under the shade of an oak tree. She'd sit on its thick roots and the children would sit cross-legged and crane their necks to listen, their eyes shimmering and attentive.

This visit of hers was unlike the previous ones. She did not come alone. A stern-looking lady walked beside her, her aura emanating with authority and grace even as she did nothing but stand still. This was what the children had thought at first glance.

Today's visit was not different only because of the new lady's presence. It was also because, this time, Princess Cynthia's listeners were comprised only of girls.

On a grassy plain not too far from the oak tree, the boys lined in neat rows before Lady Clary who had her hands clasped strictly behind her. They seemed as though they were little soldiers in training. What with their gazes focused straight ahead and their arms bunched at the sides.

Cynthia would look up from the pages of the book to peer at Clary who was unexpectedly enjoying her time with the boys. Her ears sometimes caught little bits of boyish laughter along the gust of the spring breeze. And when she'd lift her head to watch, she was shocked to find Clary laughing together with them.

To Cynthia, her brother's fiancée never failed to drop her guard. It was as though she needed to be constantly alert, constantly careful. As if Clary was treading dangerous waters or tip-toeing on a tightrope.

But it had mattered less to Cynthia why Clary behaved like that. Not that she didn't care, it simply hadn't bothered her. Ironically, she once thought that she saw Clary as an honest and direct person. Even though Cynthia saw how Clary's eyes had more to say than her mouth.

Perhaps it was Clary's uniqueness and complicatedness that had drawn Cynthia to her. There was also the matter of Clary's resemblance to her sister. The uncanny similarity had disturbed her at first. Though she grew to be comfortable with it with time.

Cynthia's attention was on Clary.

Clary had called the tallest boy—the one who had charged at Cynthia—in front, wooden sword in his fist. Clary was teaching him the correct form, doing it herself so that the child could follow.

Then she bent her back to grab the boy's arm, shaking it to check if it had enough strength. Clary gave a nod of confirmation and the boy's face instantly lit up. Now, Clary took another practice sword.

She thrust her arm, piercing the wind, slashing a phantom enemy. The breeze caught her hair, revealing her focused crystal-blue eyes. Her body moved with grace, her feet light and nimble. As if her limbs were paper and not blood and bone.

At that moment, she seemed as though she was dancing. As though the blade was not wood but metal. Her peach day dress had magically turned into glossy armor.

A whoosh of air slammed into Cynthia, her chest constricting. All of a sudden, the world went bright and silent. The children had disappeared.

Empress Athelina was there. Cynthia's older sister came back.

Cynthia snapped back to the present. The girl with pigtails had been pulling on her sleeves.

"Princess..." she called. But Cynthia remained gaping at the field.

Athelina vanished. Clary had ceased her performance, leaving the kids open-mouthed and amazed. Slowly, they began clapping. Clary bowed and proceeded to teach.

Cynthia returned to the girls seated across her on the ground.

"Princess, what's wrong? Why did you stop?"