The previous day was quite fruitful, not only the meeting with that man but also the various talks we had with Amir. I realized my anger was leading me to punch things and yearn for pain. I knew this was not me, but it all just felt right.
Today I wake up with a heavy chest, just like any other day. My chest has always been heavy since the day I was chased, or rather, since I ran out of English lands. It always feels like something in me is missing, a piece of me, or mostly just something within me. When I think about everything related to England — my thoughts of marriage, love, relationships, and having a lot of wealth — well, that's not something anyone would not love, right? The King was not quite serious about me having to seduce her younger daughter. I observed Princess Shahidi from the window of Amir's room, which we shared. She was sitting outside, knitting something; I had no idea what. She was quite a feminine lady and really enjoyed time alone. She seemed delicate; I would describe her actions like those of my sister. I would protect my sister from any man, but Amir was one with no brains; all he thought about was fulfilling his duties as the prince. However, he forgot he was a brother and needed to fulfill this duty. However, I knew the die was already cast, the plan was already set, and I needed to act deservedly. So, I decided to try talking to the girl again. I took my leave from the room and went downstairs. As I passed through, I saw one of the servants who is used to serving tea. Right, it was still morning.
"Hello, good morning. Can I have two cups of tea, please?" I requested the aging man, who just nodded. As if leaving for the kitchen, I followed him. I had never entered the palace kitchen; all I did was have things and items brought to me like a true master. When he saw I was following him, he made a gesture as if asking me to wait, and so I stopped in my tracks. He seemed to understand the English language, not quite speaking it; okay, I was not quite sure, but all I needed was two cups of tea.
After some time of waiting, he came out with the cups on the tray and some bread as an escort. I smiled, knowing he thought beyond what I was thinking about. As if wanting us to walk together, I shook my head and just told him, "I will take it from here. Thank you; I appreciate your work." With that, I took the tray and started walking towards the outside door. My focus was to find the princess.
"Hello," I stated when I arrived where the princess was, at least to get her attention. She looked at me, made a little smile, which at least lightened my mood and made me less nervous. "I saw you knitting from upstairs and thought maybe you haven't taken breakfast, so here it is. However, discern my judgment if it is not true, or if you have taken brea…" I had started bluffing again; it always happened to me when nervous and when talking to someone of the other gender, whom I feared would not appreciate my efforts. However, she just smiled and pointed next to her as she helped me lay the tray on the well-trimmed, green, grassy ground.
"I like rosemary tea," she stated, which made me smile. This was the first time she and I were really having a conversation.
"Enjoy. You knit quite well. Can I have a look?" Oh God, Willock. I started scolding myself. It is always the person knitting who should offer one a look, not ask outright. However, she just looked at me and then, as if contemplating, stated, "It is not quite done. How about I show you when it is done?" With that, I made a small, hilarious smile.
"This place is quite awesome. I love it," I told her as I started pouring the tea into our cups. I had never really served a woman, not even my sister. I had never found myself doing something like that; it was really something I never did.
"What's the difference between here and home? Why did you leave home, Lock?" she asked, two questions, with the first quite good, but the second, well, I will have to tell a lie, I guess.
"I left home because I wanted some adventure," I stated.
"Amir has told me you seek my hand," she stated, which made me gaze and wonder. And as if seeing my silence, she continued, "You know my sister liked you." I now knew this was not going to end well. This was a misunderstanding.
"I... it's not like that. I..." I tried speaking, but I could not. I wanted this breakfast to be at least a starting point, a step, a success for me in winning this girl's heart, but she was quite astute. I liked someone who thought about their family members' likes and wants before entering into any relationship. I wanted to tell her the truth, but I could not. I knew it was never my part to ever speak; it really never was.
"Why... why aren't you speaking, Lock?" she asked again. I knew I had nothing to say.
"Your sister is betrothed, I thought," I stated.
"...and you think you can just get my hand that easily? Just because you can't get that of my sister. Is that how you think of women, someone who can be placed and directed?" I found myself scratching my face and hair as I removed the cap that I wore. I did not know what to say. I also did not enjoy this, I really did not. I looked at the tray, and the cup of tea, especially Princess Shahidi's, untouched. She was fuming, even before I could have a conversation with her. I just did not understand what to do. If I knew where Amir was, God knows, I would kill him; I would beat the hell out of him. But this was on me. I just looked at her, frustrated, I would say. I just found myself not even knowing what to say. Sometimes when women looked down on themselves or stated something, I, being the one looking down on them, my sister's face would just ring in my head. I would find myself hoping that they did not see me that way.
So, I lastly took a glance at her, took my cup of tea and the escort meant for me, and left for the gates of that forest where I met that boy. It seemed quite peaceful there. I never even thought that forest would be dangerous, but maybe the guards guarded it after hearing it was a gateway outside the palace and to another land out of Iraq.
I sat near the stream on a certain lengthy flat-top based stone as I started taking in the breakfast, right when I reached that forest. I thought of my life and everything. I remembered home; I remembered everyone I met in one way or another. Then my mind just revolved all through towards the stone where my mother was buried. How much would I wish to have had a glance at her? Was I really that unlucky? I never really contemplated much about my life when sober; it just felt like really taking acid. It was really hard; it just felt hard, and it never felt as if the hardship was ever ending. And now this marriage proposal when the woman I am meant to marry is all furious and full of hate towards me.
I suddenly felt the need to go home. I really felt the need to go home and face my fate, if death was what encompassed me there. I was happy here, thanks, but I was not really happy, was I? They welcomed me well and treated me like one of their own, not like a bastard or something that should be shoved away or left to rot. However, sometimes when I think about all that, I think about the reality of it all. The reality is my father wanted nothing to do with me, and my mother was dead. It was all about being raised out of luck and someone else's sacrifice. Sometimes, I find very much gratitude encompassed within me to tell my father, the duke and his wife, my mother, a real thank you.
I don't know how long I sat on that stone, immersed in my own depressed worry and stormy life when I heard some footsteps from behind, making me shove towards the person, ready to punch the hell out of them. When I saw the dark man again, this time wearing different dark brown clothes and an old hat, he looked more like a fisherman.
"Hello, man, you scared me," I called out, but he did not smile. He just looked at me deep in my eyes as if staring. He then took a leaf, one of those which he used yesterday, and started writing again, "You seem worried," he stated, and I just shook my head.
"Don't you speak?" I asked, and he just wrote, 'I am on a mission to take you home.'
"What?" That made me chuckle a bit, and I saw that he was not playing around. "Who sent you?"
"Armstrong and Duke," he wrote.