Em woke up in the early morning feeling as if an anchor was crushing her chest. She wanted nothing more than to die in order to get away from the immense pain. She didn't want to open her eyes and see that he wasn't there anymore. Em didn't want to face his absence yet, but she had to know that yesterday had not been another of her nightmares. With much effort, she forced herself out of bed. After dressing up, she walked out of her room and went over to his.
A cold hand gripped her heart as she approached. Em froze in front of the door and stared at the brass doorknob. She took a deep breath and gripped it. The door was unlocked, but there came no relief from that knowledge because he must have checked out of his room. Dreading what she'd find (or wouldn't find) inside, Em crept into the room. Her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the figure sitting on the edge of the bed. She mouthed his name, but she had forgotten how to create sound. Her entire body shook from the shock of him still there. Roger was hunched over, his dark head in his hands. Em's eyes wandered to the duffel bag on the ground at his feet. She had come to him just in time. Em let out a breath of relief.
Roger lifted his head at the sound of the sigh. His black eyes locked onto her dark brown for a space of three painstaking breaths before he leaped to his feet. "Step aside," he ordered and picked up his bag. His voice was not in his usual muffled tone. It was raspy and harsh, an effect not lost on Em. Roger was hung-over. His black eyes bore into hers. The whites were still bloodshot. He kept his face turned away the weak light filtering from the balcony. His guard was down. If there was one thing Roger had taught her, it was never let an opportunity like this slip away. "Step aside," he repeated with a bite of impatience this time.
"No."
Em shut the door behind her before walking up to him. She stopped when he pulled out a short dagger from his belt, but she stood in his way with her hands on her hips. "Listen to me," she said. "You gave me not one fucking chance to explain myself yesterday. Now you will listen."
Roger raised the dagger closer to her face. Its sharp point was less than six inches from her nose. "You are not in a position to order me around, Princess." He bared his teeth at her. "Pathetic girl. Out of my way or I'll gut you like a fish."
With no other choice, Em reached behind her and extracted the pistol that had been pocketed underneath her belt. Roger's eyes widened with fury to see his own effect pointed at him. He lowered the dagger.
"I took it from you last night," said Em, "while you were preoccupied with other matters."
The dagger disappeared. Roger lifted his gaze from the pistol's nozzle to eye her disdainfully. "You wouldn't shoot me," he said.
"Not dead, no," said Em, but even she heard the hesitance in her voice. Her breath hitched when Roger dropped his bag on the floor before confidently walking up to her. The pistol shook but Em did not fire even when the nozzle pressed into his thin chest. Roger ignored the tears that filled her dark brown eyes as he reached up and took the firearm from her without any resistance. Their fingers brushed against each other for a brief moment, but Roger ignored the small jolt that went up his arm from the spot where he'd touched her. He put the pistol in its holster before locking gazes with hers.
"I will leave you here in Politicka," said Roger quietly. "You can find your own way back home." He went back for his bag and then moved toward the door.
As he passed her, Em spun around and cried, "Do you still love me?"
Roger froze. "Does it matter?" he asked over his shoulder, hoping to keep his voice calm and devoid of all emotion. "Do you honestly believe something between us can continue to exist now that I know what you are?"
"How can you say that?" exclaimed Em. "If you had still thought of me as a baron's daughter, you wouldn't have cast me aside like a worn slipper as you are doing now."
"You are not a baron's daughter," Roger countered. "Even you must have realized that your return will now be inevitable since he has found you." He turned around to face her. His eyes were narrowed in anger, and the scar on the left side of his lips burned red against his pale skin. "We had both acknowledged before that you will return one day, but I was the fool to forget that."
"But my sister, Annalyn!" Em cried, grasping for any hope left. "She is queen. I want her to be queen. I'd leave my people for you!" Em realized her mistake when Roger's eyes widened.
"You said your sister is half-Draconian," he said slowly, his mind hardening he lines of the vague picture. "She is older than you." Roger's eyes lifted to see Em's face pale slightly. "She is a bastard, and you are the real heir," he growled.
"But I don't have to be—"
"I will not be the reason you left an entire country to ruin!" roared Roger, now for the first time allowing his inner turmoil to break the surface. Em flinched, and the small action fueled his rage. "My love for you cannot overcome the obligations of your birthright! I don't know what the gods were thinking to allow us to fall in love with each other, but I know it was my choice to walk away from you. And 'tis still my choice!"
"W-What are you saying?" Em demanded.
Roger shot her a glare that seemed to freeze up her insides. "I am leaving you so that I am not the one who watches you go. I have made a mistake, and I am correcting it. Goodbye," as an afterthought, he added scathingly, "Princess."
Em sank to her knees after he disappeared through the doorway. "Don't leave me," she said tearfully to the thin air. She felt helpless to do anything to fix her situation. "What can I do?"
From the balcony, a gust of wind blew into the room. It moved over Em's shoulders and her hair like a mother tenderly stroking her distraught child. Her ears were filled with the zephyr. Go after him, it told her gently.
Em jumped to her feet and shot out the door. From the dining room on the main floor, she heard Cecil's alarmed voice call her name but she ignored him. As if the gods were looking after her, the streets were barely peopled. Heart hammering, Em raced to the dockyard. Goddess, please let him still be there, she prayed. Let there have been a delay. She spotted the stairs that led down to the wooden platform. But when she got to the topmost step and looked into the distance, she saw that she was too late.
The Jolly Roger had set out. It sailed toward the morning sun just barely peeking out above the horizon. In the ship's wake were churning waters and a young woman with a broken heart.
"Emelia!"
Em whipped around. Distantly, she saw Cecil trotting toward her, waving one of his arms. A few tears slipped down her face. She wiped them roughly away and turned back to the dock, blocking out the old man's cries for her. Em leaped over the stairs and flew down the platform. When she got to the end, she dove into the sea's waiting arms.
MMMMMM
At the helm, Michael heard a few of the men shout in surprise from below on the main deck. He glanced at Roger, who stood like a stone gargoyle beside him. Knowing Michael wasn't about to get any answers from him, the first mate turned to the deckhand leaning over the side of the ship, staring in open-mouth wonder at something happening back at the docks. "Mister Bernucle," the first mate called. "Kindly take the wheel." Michael felt Roger's black scowl on the back of his head as he and the other man switched places.
"O gods, Em!" Michael shouted when his blue eyes landed on the small figure trying in vain to swim after the ship. He moved away from the edge and prepared to leap overboard but a pair of strong arms held him back. "Leggo of me!"
Roger threw Michael to the floor with disgust written all over his pale face. "You will ignore the wench and return to your duties," he ordered. "If the little fool wants to drown, then let her. When I come back to check up on you, you better be manning the wheel." He turned on his heel and walked out of the helm.
"Stay there, Bernucle," said the first mate in a low voice as he picked himself off the floor. He went to the railing again and looked back at the docks. The port was shrinking before his eyes, but he spotted Em. To his relief, she had swum back to the dock. She lay beside the edge with an old man hovering over her whom Michael assumed was Cecil. Michael exhaled the breath he'd been holding before he walked away from the sight, leaving Bernucle at the helm.
Michael burst into the captain's quarters. Roger looked up from behind his writing desk. His black eyes flashed as he rose from his seat. "Who is manning the wheel?" He shot the words like bullets out of the left corner of his mouth, but Michael stood his ground.
"You did not hear her out," he stated. "Roger, you taught me to never give up, so you shouldn't give up on Em."
"She is heir to a throne," Roger fired back. "She is willing to leave people suffering for one person. She is a selfish girl."
"You have chosen an inauspicious moment yourself to act as the concerned knight in shining armor," countered Michael. "Since when did you care for land affairs?"
"And you seem fine with letting an entire country go up in flames," hissed Roger. "Even if she chose to go back, we both know I would never leave the sea."
"Dammit Roger!" Michael said. "Just because she is landed doesn't mean you would always have to be, too!"
Roger's black eyes bore into Michael's blue eyes. His pale face was stoic once again. "Get out." Roger didn't take his eyes off of Michael until the double doors had shut behind him. Slowly, Roger walked around his desk and picked up a small urn full of the lumota spice of which he was so fond.
Roger's face contorted. The scar on his lips twisted and stretched. With all his strength, he hurled the urn against the wall opposite of him. It broke to pieces with a satisfying crash. The perfume ran down the wall and splattered the floor below. Its scent filled his nostrils but not the rage burning through his chest. The pain inside him demanded more satisfaction until it couldn't be felt any longer.
Outside the captain's quarters, all eyes stared at the double doors with trepidation as the muffled sounds of destruction came through them. Everyone was frozen in place, waiting in fear for the tumult to stop and for Dread Pirate Robin to come bursting out with murderous intent. A pair of heavy footsteps attracted their attentions.
"Back to what you are doing," ordered the first mate. "The captain wants no idle hands when he inspects our work later."
Reluctantly, everyone returned to their stations. They had seen the paleness of the first mate's normally tan skin. He had been close to his own. Dread Robin's rampage had begun a full minute after the first mate had exited the captain's quarters.
Michael glanced at the double doors when they shook, as if a large object had been hurled against them. He swallowed hard and returned to the helm. For the first time in a long while, he sent up a swift prayer to any god or goddess that could give his afflicted friend guidance.
MMMMMM
The Jolly Roger became smaller and smaller in front of Em's disbelieving eyes. She lay propped up on one elbow near the edge of the loading dock. Salt water from her body pooled around her. She stared after the pirate ship, effortlessly blocking out Cecil's reprimanding words. Her attempt to swim after the ship was moronic even to her half-crazed mind. She hadn't gone far when her limbs grew tired and a pounding headache developed. She'd been forced to swim back to the dock where Cecil awaited her.
"He's gone," Em uttered. She was stunned. Perhaps Roger would realize his mistake and order the crew to turn the ship back? It shouldn't take long for him to regret his decision. Yet as she stared longer at the shrinking vessel, she knew none of these would happen. Only divine intervention would bring him back now.
Cecil stepped back as Em picked herself off the floor. He untied the strings of his summer cloak and then wrapped the article around the princess's soaking wet body. To his concern, she shivered despite that the rising sun brought Politicka's well-known tropical heat. "Come now, Princess," said the old man soothingly to the distraught girl as he turned her around and began guiding her up the dock. He didn't notice Em flinch from the use of her title. "I will hire some men to escort us to Representative Thyreum's villa where I've been invited to stay before sailing to the capital—"
"No," said Em. "I won't go with you." She stopped in her tracks, forcing Cecil to stop walking as well. Em threw off his cloak and moved away from him. When she looked up at her grandfather's best friend, he was pink in the face with frustration.
"Princess Emelia, what has gotten into you?" exclaimed Cecil, head shaking from side to side. "First, you tell me that you are giving up your throne. Then you claim to have fallen in love with, not just an ordinary pirate, no, but Dread Pirate Robin, the Pirate King and thus implying that the reason for refusing to accept your responsibility as princess is because you claim to love him. Finally, you try to swim after a pirate ship even after it is quite clear Dread Robin has abandoned you—"
"Shut up!" Em screamed. "Shut the bloody hell up, Cecil!" A small, malicious part of her was satisfied by the scandalized look that appeared across the old man's bearded face. "It is not a 'claim' when I say I love Roger. 'Tis a fact! I would and I am giving up my right to the crown for him because I love him. I did not create some romantic fantasy between me and him because he helped saved me from the pirate that Cicero gave me to after kidnapping me. And he has not abandoned me," she added coldly. "He will come back. I know it."
Despite the confusion that overwhelmed him, Cecil felt immense pity and concern well up his chest for the young woman standing in front of him. These emotions must have shown plainly across his face because she averted her eyes in shame.
"Cecil, just go back to the representative's villa without me," Em told him weakly as she turned away and started back to the inn. She didn't hear him inhaled sharply or see him shake his head in the negative. He followed after her.
"I shall do no such thing," said Cecil calmly. "I will stay with you. I may not understand your attraction toward Dread Robin, but I happen to know all too well what a person with a broken heart looks like."
Em bit her bottom lip hard. Her eyelids prickled familiarly. She blinked back the tears forming around her eyes and began to walk faster.
The innkeeper greeted Em with a solemn face from behind the front desk. He probably had seen it all underneath his roof. He nodded to her as she walked up to his desk. "I'm sure ye still want your rooms," he said.
Em gave him a watery smile. "Yes, thank you very much," she said. She nodded to Cecil standing beside her. "He'll take my old room."
The wizened man, who was even older than Cecil, nodded again in complete understanding for which Em was grateful. He reached behind him and took the brass key the dark man had given him less than an hour ago to the young woman in front of him. "All wounds doth mend with time," he quoted the philosopher Quakesord with a wave of his veined hand.
Em's dark brown eyes shined with unshed tears. She thanked the innkeeper before turning to Cecil. Out of one of her trouser pockets came the key to her former room. She gave this to him and kept the key to the other room clutched in her other hand. Silently, Em and Cecil walked up to their new rooms. Em passed her old room without going inside to get her belongings first. There would be time later for such things. She bid Cecil a soft goodbye before stepping into Roger's old room. It was the same as she had left it earlier.
Em moved toward the balcony. The ocean opened up before her eyes. It was vast, blue, and most importantly of all, it was empty. No ship marred this sight. Em placed her hands on the warm stone balustrade. Vaguely, she wondered if there had been times in the last few days, when things between her and Roger had been fine, where Roger had found himself standing on this balcony, staring out into the sea he loved so much.
As if a dam inside her had broken, hot tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Em pressed her face against her calloused hands and sobbed her heart out into them. Roger had admitted, before he had walked away from her, that he loved her. Rarely did he make such an admission aloud. But then he'd told her that his love for her couldn't overcome the fact that she was the true heiress to the Tarymian crown. That is why he had left her, she realized finally, because he couldn't bear to be the one watching her leave him for the land.
"I love you. I love you. I love you," repeated Em over and over through her sobs, the words coming out muffled and nearly hysterical. Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears. She turned away from the ocean. She stumbled to the four-poster bed and fell onto it. Roger's scent clung to the sheets and the pillows. Em pulled the topmost one of the latter and hugged it close to her body, crying into it hard.
With the grace of the god Hypnos's powers, exhaustion overtook her. She was lulled to sleep by Roger's scent, just like the first time after she'd found herself in the company of Dread Pirate Robin and his crew.