After the ceremony of the sacred flame had concluded, we found ourselves gathered once more within the privacy of my guest chambers for a debrief. Ed, Teodore, and I addressed the finer details of the proceedings that could have been sharpened, debated potential improvements, and adjusted our plans accordingly. Despite our critiques, however, it was certainly the case that the ceremony had been executed as well as anyone could hope for a first attempt. Our list of amendments was brief, our labors light, all thanks to the meticulous preparations we had seen to in the days prior and the competence of the trustworthy individuals who surrounded us. From the steadfast knights who had held the eager crowds at bay to the diligent clergymen who had kept everything moving smoothly—I owed them all my sincerest gratitude.
But it wouldn’t do to just thank them all in my thoughts, would it? I reached for another cup of Marisa’s delightful tea, resolved to extend my appreciation in a more formal manner to all those who had been involved, when a firm knock echoed from the door. A voice, muffled but unmistakable, called out:
“Carolina, it’s me. And Flora, as well. May we enter? We wish to speak with you.”
Father? My heart quickened at the sound. His tone seemed strained, and that alone was enough to set me on edge. And wait, did he say Flora is with him as well? What a curious turn of events! My mind immediately leaped to darker possibilities—that it was some sort of ploy, perhaps a trap—but before I could give my imagination free rein, Teodore’s voice sliced right through the clamor of my thoughts.
“Your Highness, I believe it prudent to allow them entrance. I no longer sense ill intent—not like I did this morning.”
He seemed almost eager to see this meeting come to pass, rising swiftly from his chair and stepping aside with grace. He gestured to Marisa, who hurriedly cleared his cup from the table.
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘this morning’?” I demanded, the shock plain on my face. “What did you sense this morning?”
A faint smile played at his lips as he bowed his head. “You shall know soon enough, Your Highness.”
Well, I wasn’t sure what else I expected, to be honest. Returning Teodore’s cryptic remark with only a polite smile, I looked to my husband sitting next to me. “What do you think, dear?”
Ed’s brow furrowed slightly as he spoke, a touch of disdain threading through his words. “Frankly, I don’t believe your sister deserves even a moment of your time. But the choice is yours to make. Leave no regrets, my dear.”
His voice carried a quiet sincerity, and his gaze held a steady warmth that I found to be reassuring. I took in his palpable show of support and turned my thoughts inward once more. I’m admittedly a little suspicious of Flora’s sudden appearance, but if Teodore is confident in her intentions, perhaps it would be fine to hear them out? And besides, I’m not without protection—Ed and the others will see to my safety if need be.
More than anything, I found myself longing for closure. It was time to settle matters with my past. I refused to continue to carry this burden with me, lurking in the corners of my mind. Today, I would face it. Today, I would be free.
Once my resolve had crystallized with that rousing thought, I thanked Ed softly and straightened my posture. I allowed a hint of steel to seep into my voice as I called out, “Enter.”
The door swung open with immediate and surprising force, and as my gaze fell upon the figures entering the room, I could not suppress a sharp intake of breath. My body stiffened, frozen in place.
What in the world was Flora wearing? Alarm prickled at the edges of my awareness as I took in the sight before me. My sister stood there, draped in a peculiar and uncharacteristically plain robe that clashed violently with the dignified presence of my father, who still wore his full ceremonial attire. Was Flora attempting to start some ridiculous new fashion, or was this something else entirely?
My mind raced with questions as the pair of them approached. They offered their apologies for the sudden intrusion before settling into the seats Teodore had indicated. My eyes never left them, tracing their every movement with careful scrutiny.
As I gazed at them seated across from me, a slow tilt of my head betrayed my growing perplexity. Something was undeniably amiss with Flora. She neither wore her usual saccharine smile glued to her face, nor did she appear poised for another childish outburst. If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought she looked...repentant. Her shoulders were slumped ever so slightly, her eyes downcast and fixed upon the floor at her feet. But that couldn’t be, could it? Flora was an excellent actor. She had fooled many before with various postures of feigned remorse, and I had little doubt she was capable of doing it again. Yet what purpose would there be in such a charade now? Every soul in this room had seen her for what she truly was. What, then, could she hope to gain by donning this mask of penitence?
I searched fruitlessly for an answer, my mind fumbling to make sense of her strange behavior. If this posture was an authentic one, it was a side of her that I was seeing for the very first time.
“So, um,” I began, my voice faltering slightly as I pushed past the awkward tension. “What did you wish to speak with me about?” Unable to pin down the root of my unease, I chose to cut directly to the heart of the matter.
Father and Flora looked at each other. A silent conversation flickered between them. Then, with a solemnity I did not expect, they turned their eyes back to me. It was Flora who spoke first.
“Carolina. We’ve come today...to apologize.”
I blinked, incredulity creeping into my tone as I repeated her words. “Come...to apologize?” Did I truly just hear her right?
Flora nodded swiftly. “You may find it difficult to believe, sister, but it is the truth.”
“Apologize for what, exactly?” I asked.
“For all the wrongs I’ve done unto you. For every bit of cruelty, and...for my intention to end your life this morning.”
Her tone was calm and eerily steady. There was no tremor in her voice, no hesitation as she confessed to the gravity of her—
Wait—what?! Flora wanted to...kill me?! When? And she intended to do so this morning? Is this what Teodore was talking about?!
Her words ricocheted against the walls of my mind for a brief while, before the admission...settled at the bottom of my soul with a surprising rightness. I was shocked by the confession, yes. Horrified to learn that my own sister had truly desired to take my life, and yet...the acute emotions one might expect me to feel simply didn’t take root. Perhaps this was a consequence of having endured one too many such threats over the past several months.
As I sat there, grappling with how strangely numb I’d become to the idea of assassination, Flora stood up from her seat and, to my shock, knelt before me. “For all this time, I couldn’t bear the weight of our mother’s death,” she began, her voice trembling, “and I used you as a vessel for my anger, my grief. For that, I am sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. I know an apology cannot erase the years of hurt I have caused, but I...needed to say it nonetheless.”
She cast aside every ounce of her pride, the carefully crafted mask of the perfect lady she had worn for so long, and bowed deeply—so deeply that strands of her platinum-blonde hair pooled on the floor before her. I gazed down at her in stunned silence, my heart caught between two opposing forces. The discomfort of seeing my sister, once so haughty, now humbling herself before me mingled with the overwhelming sense of release that her words stirred within my soul. It was a clash of emotions that left my mind swimming and my head throbbing. Almost unconsciously, I lifted a hand to my temple, as though pressing it there could somehow hold back the chaos in my head. Just then, my father, who had remained silent until now, shifted in his seat. His voice, when it came, was heavy with regret.
“I, too, owe you an apology, Carolina. I’m deeply sorry, my daughter.”
With a grave solemnity, he stood and joined Flora, bowing his head low beside her.
“Father, you too...?” I tried to protest. But my father remained undeterred, resolute in his confession.
“I am to blame for all of this,” he declared with a grim certainty. “When your mother passed, I left Flora to fend for herself. No—worse, I abandoned her to grieve alone. Had I acted with any semblance of a father’s care, had I been there when she needed me... Everything might have been different.”
Different. The word echoed within me, conjuring images of a world that seemed impossibly exotic—a world in which Flora and I might have been sisters who loved and cared for one another. It was a world I could scarcely envision, but before I could spend too much effort on the attempt, another murmured apology tumbled from my father’s lips, pulling me back to the present.