Aveline Was Afraid of Pain

After the lake, I fell ill.

The water had been cold.

The weeds had bruised my ankle black.

My lungs hurt every time I breathed.

Aveline ran to call the physicians.

She returned alone.

Jocelyn’s people had stopped her.

“There are no physicians available,” they told her.

A lie.

In the palace, lies wore official robes.

My fever worsened through the night.

Briar wanted to break down the medical hall doors.

Aveline cried and begged me to hold on.

Finally, she ran to Lady Sorelle, one of the few women in the palace who still treated me as human.

Sorelle brought a physician herself.

I lived.

Unfortunately.

The next trap came soon after.

Jewelry found in the wrong place.

Poison where it should not be.

Witnesses who had seen too much and understood nothing.

Every thread led to me.

Aurelian came with soldiers.

His face was colder than winter.

“Why?” he asked.

That was all.

Not did you do this?

Not tell me the truth.

Why?

Because he had already judged me guilty.

I opened my mouth.

Aveline stepped forward.

“It was me.”

The room froze.

My blood went cold.

“Aveline,” I said.

She did not look at me.

“I hated Lady Jocelyn,” she said, voice shaking. “She stole His Majesty’s affection and made my lady suffer. I acted alone.”

“No.”

My voice cracked.

“No, she lies.”

Aurelian looked between us.

Perhaps he knew.

Perhaps he only needed someone to punish.

Aveline was taken away.

I was confined, but unharmed.

She returned three days later.

Not walking.

Briar carried her.

Aveline had always been round-cheeked and lively, the kind of girl who smiled even while doing dull work. She feared needles. She cried over paper cuts. Once, she screamed because a kitchen cat scratched her hand.

Now her body was covered in wounds.

She had faced torture because she loved me.

I touched her cold face.

No tears came at first.

Only a hollow sound from somewhere inside my chest.

Briar knelt beside me, silent.

We buried Aveline beneath the cherry tree.

The same tree where Aurelian had once promised to build me a swing.

The same tree under which I would one day die.

After that, Briar spoke less.

I smiled less.

And whatever remained of the girl who believed in Arlen began to rot quietly inside me.