Leaves

*Ana* 

"There are still quite a few of them left, don't you think, Naska?" I motion back to the roses. We are in the rose garden now, wanting to steal one of the few warmer days left before things start turning colder. I managed to pause my study on the issues with Pave and the Bulgeons. Still trying to find some solutions, though it has been difficult.

What with doing everything on my own. No one is taking the matter seriously. And without Nugen, he's still undergoing punishment… little progress has been made.

I tug at my shawl. I am trying–truly. But every court session is more of the same. 

Which vexes me to no end. I don't see how everyone is prattling on about the coronation. My ears are nearly filled over with such nonsense. That, and with my dress now complete, that is a new source of topic. Something else to distract them.

Always distracted. Always willing to talk about something else. Never what matters.

 Mykhol did warn me this would happen. But it was an understatement to say that they really would think of nothing else but that. So transfixed on the traditions, this, and decorum that. They would only listen once everything is settled. 

But it's hard not to feel so frustrated. I sigh heavily, pulling in a deeper breath, clenching my shawl. And it's not so much with everyone distracted. It's the fact that it feels that nothing has changed. 

Weren't things supposed to be easier once I became an adult? My hands clench at my shawl. That they would listen to me? Now that I've had my first blood, and the coronation is just around the corner. But it seems to still not be the case. My voice is still going unheard over talk about the coronation or—

I exhale sharply, forcing myself to release the tension coiled in my chest. I did not come here to stew in anger. That is why I left my study, why I let myself be pulled outdoors in the first place.

The roses.

My gaze drifts over them, their petals touched with the first whispers of decay, yet still so vivid, so alive. Most have wilted, their vibrant colors faded into memory. But a few remain, standing against the coming cold. The sight soothes something in me, at least for a moment. 

I step closer, grazing a deep red bloom, its petals brushing my skin. There is something important in this—being here, seeing them before they are gone. Perhaps it is foolish, but I cannot help but feel that someone should witness their final days, that they should not simply vanish unnoticed.

I close my eyes for a brief second, inhaling deeply. The air is crisp, tinged with the faintest trace of smoke from somewhere in the distance. The weight in my chest does not vanish, but for now, at least, it does not feel so suffocating.

Though, it does not seem the case for Naska.

"Just means it's going to get cold soon," Naska says, pulling her shawl closer to ward off a shiver. But she's the only one who feels the chill. Bruno, beside me, seems perfectly comfortable as he idly plays with a stick.

"Winter's coming soon," Bruno adds.

I smile at that. Which reminds me—

"Yes, and that means Nicoli's birthday is approaching."

"Who?" Bruno snaps the stick with a sharp crack, then blinks twice before opening his mouth to reveal a gap-toothed grin.

"Oh! The prince. Your brother, you mean?"

I pat his head. "You remembered well."

"I'm good at memorizing stuff." He picks up a stone, examines it, then pockets it with a satisfied smile, as if he's just collected a rare treasure. I have to smile again at the small, childish act.

"You are, indeed," I agree before something else occurs to me. "That means he'll be ten this winter."

Bruno holds up both hands, fingers spread. "I'm this many!"

"No, Bruno, that's one too many." I gently press one of his fingers down. He nods, studying his hand as if committing the number to memory. His eyes shine with that same bright focus he always has when learning something new.

Maybe I should teach him to read.  It would be nice to have someone else to talk to over books. Mykhol could, of course, but I've long noticed he isn't exactly keen on the reading experience. 

Leaving just me…

I sigh, moving to adjust my shawl as the wind picks up again. When it does, I smell it again–A slight trace of smoke. Perhaps someone is burning leaves somewhere? I don't see any fires around but that is all well and good. 

The smell makes me forget myself a moment, thinking of him.

I wonder if he is doing well. I breathe in. It finds a way up my nose and runs down my back. Like fingers running down my spine. The scent is lulling me to stay. Making me breathe deeper, as if to keep it inside.

What a strange little thought to have. I must miss him more than I realized.

Perhaps after this, I could write again? Or not– My thoughts were distracted by Bruno suddenly pointing. 

Bruno stands alert. "Mama, those guys are back." He turns his head sharply in one direction.

 Immediately, Naska sourst. "God, not again." She huffs with an eye roll. 

"Can't they take the hint?"

"Who?" I turn to follow her gaze, but she is already pulling up as she is about to charge off somewhere. 

"Who do you think-them!?" 

"But I don't…?" I blink, looking to see what must be a group of men. There are more of them today. All dressed in expensive tunics and gold chains on. The one leading the way, none other than Duke Zaver himself.

I turn back to her, incredulous. "They are just here to see the roses, Naska. No harm in that." It's what I was doing. Though, I'd prefer it stay just us three. Enjoying the peaceful moment together.

Because they are all so chatty. 

More than I'm used to, for sure. It's odd to find myself sought after nowadays. It must be because of the coronation. 

"You can't be that dumb, can you?" Naska scuffs but says no more. "They are trying to pursue you."

"What?" I look up but she is gone, charging toward them with a stern expression. 

Some men see her first and start to scatter on their own. The others who stay behind seem to look over and give me a wave.

"Naska, that can't be right–" I find myself meeting their gaze, but I don't make any more contact because I am thoroughly confused.

"Pursue me? Like a suitor?" The thought is so foreign I nearly scuff aloud. No. No way it must be a mistake.

She must be wrong. 

When I look back up, the crowd has departed. But so is Naska. She has vanished.

"Did she leave without telling me again?" She shouldn't just leave like that. But before I can get any more, I feel Bruno shift.

He stands next to me, looking where Naska just was. A slight frown starting to form.

"Mama left us behind" 

"Oh, she didn't—" My stomach clenches. Panic flares hot in my chest. I don't want Bruno to think that.

"Naska is just—" But I don't even know where she went. My breath stumbles, my fingers curling into my palms. The tightness spreads, rising to my throat.

I need to do something—quick! Distract him!

I reach for his hand, gripping it gently but firmly. "Bruno, should we go back inside? I'll get us hot chocolate?" 

"Hot Chocolate?" Bruno blinks at my hand. "What's that?"

"Hot Chocolate?" I repeat. "You never had any?" 

He shakes his head before peering up at me with burgundy colored eyes.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"That-" I'm shocked. It never occurred to me that anyone would be without hot chocolate. 

But I quickly hide it as Bruno watches me closely. "It's sweet." I quickly catch myself. "I used to drink it all the time. It's great on chilly days like this."

"Really?" Bruno seems to soften on the idea.

"I'd sure like some now. Don't you?" I hold myself and wait. But I don't need to wait long as the idea seems to work.

Bruno agrees and takes my hand."Yeah. That sounds good." 

Thank god, I rejoice that it worked. For some reason, it bothers me to see him upset. I don't want him to be unhappy. It hurts.

If I can, I want to make it so that Bruno always laughs and smiles. I think firmly. 

"Here, we'll go to the kitchen, then." I turn to lead. "Let me know if I'm going too fast, alright?"

He nods as I hold his hand. He never speaks up, but I slow my steps. Bruno is short like I used to be, so I stay mindful. My experience has taught me well to be considerate.

He doesn't have to suffer like I did. I think before I notice Bruno furrowing his brows.

"Why are we going to the kitchen?" 

I see his face still wrinkled up. It's understandable. But that's the very reason why I have to smile at him. 

"Bruno, did you know that kitchens can be fun places?" 

Bruno shook his head.

"Well, they are." I insist. "Once, when I was a little bit older than you are now, someone once snuck me in. And it was the most wonderful time." The memory of us together brought me back. The silly stools we sat on as the kitchen staff smiled. Playing before my eyes a moment. 

"So I want to show you too. But you need to do something for me."

"What's that?" Bruno seems to be completely absorbed. All the better because I lean down to whisper.

"Promise you can keep it a secret?" I wink. "Just between us?" 

"Oh…I am good at keeping secrets." Bruno smiles with a nod. "I have many."

"Do you?" I am a little surprised. What would a five-year-old have to keep secret?

 It's just something a child would say. I dismiss. It's not essential. It's not compared to what I have to do now.

We need to get back into the palace undetected, a challenging feat. But that's what makes it so fun.

Just like with Nicoli, I remind myself and hold Bruno's hand. His little hand is warmer but not like Nicoli's. I'm afraid no one will be able to mimic him.

But that is neither here nor there. 

We leave the garden behind, the last of the roses fading from view as we weave through the quieter paths of the palace grounds. The chill in the air sharpens, nipping at my skin even through the layers of my shawl. But Bruno isn't phased, just looking ahead, excited, his small hand warm in mine, while I busily scan around us for any guards or servants. 

I didn't realize sneaking around would be this fun.

Or at least, what should have been sneaking in.

It turns out that sneaking back into the palace is more straightforward than I thought. It's diabolical how easy it is. 

When we reach the servant's entrance, I pause. I had expected to at least slow my steps, time our approach carefully, maybe even find myself holding my breath. But none of that is necessary. There's no guard. No staff hurrying in and out. No watchful eyes.

The door is already slightly ajar. I look at the plain white walls, expecting but still not seeing anyone. No guards, no one posted, not even a lone servant. 

The servant's passage is surprisingly unguarded.

It should never be this easy to get inside. My stomach pulls with unease.  If someone terrible were to know about this spot, the whole palace could be overrun with invaders. We would be completely exposed. 

But while thinking of how I'll need to scold the head of security, voices are ahead of us, two very loud maids who seem to be slacking off.

Shouldn't they be working? It is my first thought as we come closer. 

Bruno hushes me with a finger to his lips. He pulls me back behind the corner. 

"Shh," He warns.

His body suddenly taunt and still.

It's surprising to see the boy so still like this. 

"Bruno?"

He shushes me again. His little lips were pouting as if to say 'Be quiet' and listen. It makes me swallow down and nod, finding myself peering around the corner with him. Just in time to hear the maids speak.

Someone Naska's age is holding a basket while the heavier one is puffing on a pipe. "Did you hear the latest about her Empress?" 

I stiffen at her words. 

Why are they talking about me? What about?

"No, what now?" The heavier one puffs smoke,

"Her Empress blew the whole treasury on a gown." Maid one throws up a hand to make the heavier drop her jaw.

"What- no!" She gasps, shocked—the other nods.

"All of it."

"I don't believe it. She did?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" The skinnier one snaps.

The other stuffs more tobacco into her pipe. "No, but that- Doesn't she know better?"

"Pave's running out of supplies." The heavier one goes with disgust to make the maid shake her head. 

"How could she spend so much?"

"Poor Lord Mykhol." Maid one shuffles her basket to another hip. A dreamy sigh crosses her lips as if she's thinking of him.

 She pooh's. "I heard he even tried to stop her."

"His gown isn't anywhere near as expensive."

"Well, it just goes to show, you know." The heavier one is back on her pipe. "It will be such a relief when they finally do it. Lord Mykhol will set things right. You'll see. We need to put up with her till then." 

"They haven't officially announced it yet," The thinner one pouts. "I don't want them to be, you know." 

"Come on, everyone knows." It just has the heavier maid laugh outright. She moves her hand, and the two laugh. 

"Right, right." They keep laughing as if it's the funniest joke in the world. Their fangs are out and stained yellow from the tobacco. It must be funny to them. 

But the laughter makes my hands clench—this isn't funny to me. Those words—I don't see anything to be funny. And their laughter is grating against my ears. It stings and bites until I can't stand the sound.

"Wait-" He tries to grab my hand to yank me back but it's too late. My feet are moving first as I step out. Eyes burning with rage as I find them in mid laugh.

My voice slices through their laughter like a blade. Even I am startled by the steel in it–but I do not waver. 

 "Know what?" 

And just as they were smiling and laughing, immediately those smug smiles dropped like the basket she carried.

"Your Empress?" They both choke and look at each other with a start, growing paler. 

They seem to be struggling to catch themselves, but their blundering hurts my ears."How did you- why are you-" 

 I step closer to see them jump a little. "What does everyone know?"

"We, your Empress, we were just- It's supposed to be a joke-" The heavier one suddenly pulls the other down. 

"Shut up, you idiot!" She hisses before moving a hand over her heart and reaching her knees. Her friend quickly follows to do the same. 

"Your Empress, forgive us. We didn't mean anything by it. Right?" The plump one looks to her friend to get the story straight. She immediately nods with tears in her eyes. 

"Yes, it's just a bad joke-"

"Then what's the joke?" I boom again to see them cringe. My voice is loud enough to echo down the plain walls. No doubt letting other servants hear. But maybe they should. 

Because I am tired of this. And I am. I realize. Like an aching somewhere on my body. Like an internal sense of right and wrong. It is.

This shouldn't be happening anymore. How no one is still listening to me at court– The talking behind my back. The whispers.

I was an adult now in Nochten. I was Empress. That meant they needed to respect me, didn't it?

So why do I keep feeling like I'm not? Why does it feel like everyone is still treating me the same? For years and years, of this, from the beginning. 

It's enough.

No, I have had enough. 

I am not a child. I am Empress. And I have endured this for too long.

"I said, speak!" I lift my head to watch them tremble.

 "What are they saying?!"