July 20th, 1622

3 a.m. at the time of record-keeping

I am afraid that I might be catching whatever it is that he has. I am in my bedchamber now. This is going to be a short addendum to the last entry; I am exhausted and in desperate need of sleep. It seems that I passed out right after writing that last paragraph. Prince Nikolai woke me up about an hour ago. He looked remarkably put together, still damp from his bath. A wonderful aroma radiated from him, fresh and strong, very different from the earthy scent that he usually brings about. He looked well, no longer pale and half-dead. I could hardly believe so speedy a recovery.

Overtaken by surprise and delight, I leapt at him, grabbing his face. He is similar to me in height, perhaps one or two inches taller, so that was not difficult for me to achieve. I am quite tall, always towering over most of the women that I know. I do not mind it.

He gently pushed me away, and thanking me for my help, told me to return to my chambers. I did not leave right away; there was too much I wished to ask him about. He confirmed my suspicions, that he had indeed continued practicing the rituals on his own, and from there, our conversation got completely out of hand. He is so irresponsible. I admit that I am a bit irritable tonight and should not have berated him the way that I did; my incendiary response triggered his defensiveness and initiated another argument. Looking back, I do not recognize myself, so passionately talking back at him. I must rest.

**

10 p.m. at the time of record-keeping

Once again in my chambers, I intended to take a long and soothing bath, but only a few moments after getting in the tub, an awful sickness befell me. I felt a sharp pang in my chest, then this terrible nausea. A simple cleanse got rid of it, and examining myself, I found no residue of this occurrence. Either he has tried giving me affection again, or his ailment is contagious.

After my bath, I lay in bed and checked in on him. As I had already suspected, he was agitated, so I soothed him. All the daughters had already gone to bed by then; I was the only one left on the Moon. I know that that is when he went to bed too, because had he stayed up practicing on himself, he would not have looked so well in the morning.

“Good morning, Adelaide,” he began. That was the first time that he had used my name. It was strange to hear it in his voice, so naked without my title attached to it. Too friendly. “I have quite a few suggestions for today. Perhaps we could begin with some prayers before getting started on the blessings. Have you ever performed soul transfusions?”

I sputtered. “Your Highness… you were bedridden all night last night. Surely, you do not expect me to cast any miracles until you are quite well.”

“I am quite well,” he defended. “Do I not look so?”

“You do look so,” the king interrupted us. “What is it that happened?”

“I have been impatient,” Prince Nikolai confessed. “We moved at too quick a pace and my body shut down, but now I know my limit and shall not push it. A soul transfusion should be alright.”

“No.” I spoke before really thinking. My protective instincts flared up when he said that, and for a moment, I forgot that King Nikita was in our conversation. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I do not believe that a soul transfusion will go well. It is a rather risky procedure.”

“We are making progress, Adelaide. This is the first time in several years that I have felt anything at all. I know that we can fix this. A soul transfusion is the most promising way to get there.”

“It requires…!” I did not even know where to begin. I shook my head. “If your body rejects the new soul, I might lose you.”

“Lose him how?” King Nikita asked.

“As in… pass away, Your Majesty.”

“I shall not.” Prince Nikolai waved. “The new soul will take.”

“Are you operating on hope, boy?” the king asked him.

“No, I am operating on the assumption that the greatest nurse in the kingdom shall perform a successful transfusion on me.”

“It has little to do with my qualifications,” I explained. “There is very little we can do to mitigate the risks of rejection or sepsis. Not to mention all the risks that the donor might take, should they go through with it.”

“Then what is it that you suggest?” the prince asked me irritably.

“Everything that we have been doing, only in smaller portions.”

“Smaller does nothing,” he argued. “We must go bigger.”

“Smaller is what has gotten us this far.”

“What is it that you two speak of?” King Nikita asked us. “Soul transfusions, prayers, blessings?” He gestured vaguely, confused and vexed.

“Your son has a condition of the soul that we are not quite able to identify, and thus, do not know exactly how to cure.”

“It is not a condition,” the prince defended. “It is merely a situation.”

“Sure.” I was not going to fight him before the king.

“What conditions of the soul are there?” the king asked me.

“The most common ones are emotional wounds, past scars, damage from trauma and abuse. Any emotionally charged situation that one goes through could have ramifications in their soul.”

“How does emotional trauma affect one’s physical body?”

“Everything affects everything!” the prince impatiently spat. “One’s body affects one’s mind and vice-versa. You should know this; your wife is dead! Did you not feel as if you were rotting from the inside out when you mourned her!? That…!” The prince suddenly stopped himself. His voice had risen so loudly that it had gathered the entire table’s attention.

“That is the effect that she speaks of,” he continued, quieter now. “One’s mind… is quite powerful. It can either liberate oneself or turn into an inescapable prison.”

“I see,” King Nikita whispered. “This condition you speak of… Did your mama give it to you?”

“No.” The prince scowled, avoiding his father’s gaze. “Its origins matter not; treatment only differs between conditions. Our issue, of course, is that we do not know what this is.”

“Indeed.” The king seemed pensive. He directed the next part to me. “My first wife was a wonderful woman, as I am sure you know. She loved us very deeply. She would never hurt Nikolai.”

“This is not about her,” the prince interjected. “If you wish to know my opinion, it probably has to do with the sheer number of lives that I have taken. That can have quite the impact on a man’s mental health.”

King Nikita gave his son a very long look that the prince did not reciprocate. Despite how fearlessly he spoke back to his father, he clearly did not wish to prolong this particular discussion. Queen Anne’s death is a delicate subject across the nation. We in the convent refer to it as martyrdom, although I understand how that word might not be welcome among members of her family, especially the ones who knew her.

If we were to relate her passing to the prince’s current condition, as the king seemed to allude to, then this is a wound that has failed to close for twenty years. It is no wonder that he has no light left inside him; he has bled it all out. The abyss that has claimed his chest might be a result of intense necrosis. If what he has, however, relates to trauma from being on the battlefield, then it could be a number of things. Trauma is far more difficult to pinpoint and cure. I almost hope that he has a wound, because at least the treatment is quite simple. Surgery and some stitches.

We got right to it after breakfast. Even though I already knew what I wished to do, I still indulged him in the prayers and the blessings that he had previously mentioned. After that was done, I suggested that we try an examination next. He did not know how that went. On the one hand, he should not know, since that is a practice reserved only for soul nurses, but then, he does have knowledge of nearly everything, even what he should not. I asked him to lie within the ritual circle.

“This might hurt,” I told him.

He shrugged in response, as if that meant nothing to him. I do not know if he realized what kind of pain I spoke of, but then, he might have already experienced it. I placed my left hand upon my right, and lacing my fingers, pressed heavily yet swiftly onto his chest. His soul promptly bared itself to me. His eyes squeezed shut as a pained groan left his throat. It was impossible to see through the darkness in that area, so I made the executive decision to examine his heart, since that is a common breeding ground for wounds. I placed my fingertips on his chest and pressed down once again. Since his soul was open, I was able to see the light that bled out when I did that, quickly usurped by the surrounding abyss. So he does have an infected wound. King Nikita was right.

He whimpered as I operated on him, biting his lip in an attempt to keep quiet. It was heartbreaking to see him so defenseless and weak. Once I was done, I soothed his soul and closed him back up. That is only a temporary fix. We will reopen this entry point during surgery later on.

I cupped his face with both hands. “Are you with me?” I asked.

He opened his eyes tentatively. “Well?”

“It seems that you have a wound.”

His gaze dropped, eyebrows scowling. “My God, how old is it?”

“Quite old and infected. We must disinfect it first.”

“I am afraid… I know nothing about that.”

“You will have a sip of holy water three times a day and pray the Our Father twice: once upon waking up and once before bed. Then, in a week, I will examine you again, and if the infection has been taken care of, we can work on suturing your heart shut.”

“A week?” His eyes widened. “You jest. There must be a faster way.”

“You must respect your body’s recovery time, Your Highness. We are attempting to cure necrosis.”

“No, no. I have not gangrened. There is still hope.”

“Yes, there is. It will simply take time. May I ask… how you remember all these rituals? Did you not stop practicing at sixteen?”

“No, I left the congregation, but did not stop practicing.” He sat up. “Angela has kept me up to date on your practices, bringing me books and teaching me new rituals. We only did not perform them on me.”

“I see!” I helped him get up. He is a curious case.

“We should visit her,” he told me. “She must know a way that we can tackle this quicker.”

While I knew that was not the case, I also did not open my mouth. I very much wished to see mama and my sisters again, regardless of the reason. My heart skipped a beat, fluttering all throughout lunch.

We set out shortly after that. The convent is not too far; it is the rocky terrain and winding paths that make getting to it rather troublesome.

I almost could not believe my eyes when we arrived. I stood by the carriage for a moment, staring in awe as the prince charged forward. Not in any hurry, I let him go on ahead. I had not been here since graduation day.

Nostalgia filled me as I entered, remembering all the years that I had spent here. Daughter Agatha was not at the reception desk, surely accompanying the prince to Daughter Angela’s office. Letting myself in, I ventured into the west hallway, where archways led to the open courtyard. Happy giggles and shrieking laughter filled the air, putting a big smile on my face. Although I did not recognize any of the girls here, I felt just as much like their family. Their big sister.

Daughter Agatha approached me a little while later, and giving me a tight hug, began telling me about everything that had happened since I had left. There is a whole new generation of nurses that graduated just last month and fifteen young girls that enrolled only this year. To think that I used to be a teacher here… I could never have imagined how much our little institution would grow. From convent to a real school.

After speaking to Daughter Agatha and reminiscing for a while, I finally went up to Daughter Angela’s office. She was sitting at her desk when I entered, and seeing me, promptly got up for a hug. My heart filled with joy. Even though we had seen each other not ten days ago, I had still missed her terribly. The prince got up from his seat as we embraced, standing off to the side. He did not find my gaze, as if embarrassed to be witnessing our reunion. I noticed the small canteen in his hands.

“He has told me about the diagnosis,” Daughter Angela began. “I did not doubt your capabilities for a moment, love. I knew you would catch what I had missed. You do not have history with him; your eyes are fresh and unbiased. That in the canteen is the holy water that he shall drink for the next week; I have blessed it myself. Your treatment, of course, is the right one.”

“Ah… so there is no way to rush it, you say?” I glanced at him. Instead of meeting my gaze, he rolled his eyes.

“No, love. I am afraid there is not.”

“I see. Thank you for the confirmation, mama.”

That word caught his attention. He glanced between us. “Mama?”

“Yes,” Daughter Angela and I spoke in unison.

“She raised me too,” I explained.

“I have quite the staggering number of children for a woman that has never married nor experienced childbirth.” Daughter Angela smiled.

“Indeed.” The prince hesitated. “No other royals, of course.”

“No, no. You are unique in that.”

“It must have been rather difficult for the girls to spend so little time with you, seeing as you used to live in the palace, but then, all parents have a favorite child. Surely, they understand.”

Daughter Angela glanced at me, smiling still. The look in her eyes was quite significant; she was saying something, but I am not sure that I received her message. It is obvious that the prince would think he is favored and more important than her other children by virtue of his title, but that is not what she is commenting on. I fear that it is this deeper understanding of his person that would explain everything I need to know about him. Perhaps even the origin of his illness.

“I should not like to keep you,” she told us. “Be on your way, now.”

The prince indicated the canteen. “Thank you for the gift.”

“Of course.”

He began to leave while I hugged mama goodbye. Why did he not embrace her too? She held my arm as we parted, keeping me in the room.

“Addie shall join you in just a moment,” she explained to him. He gave us one last glance before shutting the door to her office. She turned to me. “He has an insidious need to point out his greatness to the room, even though we are the only ones here. Two women who love and appreciate him. Clearly, he was speaking to himself, not to us. Threatened by my connection to you, he felt the need to remind himself of his own importance. You do know what that means, do you not?”

“Yes… although he has never come across as insecure before.”

“He has gotten quite good at hiding it. Motherhood is a delicate topic for him. I suggest that you tackle it with great care.”

“It is the root of everything, is it not?”

She smiled. “You are brilliant. Go, now.” She gave my arm a loving squeeze. “Write me your findings.”

“Yes, mama.”

Leaving her office, I found the prince waiting for me right outside the door. His eyes were cold and sharp, and his posture was incredibly stiff. I had offended him. My pulse quickened as I realized that we were about to have a very difficult conversation.

“While I would not go so far as to discredit Angela’s parenting in regard to you or the others, you must understand that she is not your mama in the same way that she is mine.”

“Well, of course not.” I spoke while leaving, forcing him to follow.

“She used to live with me,” he went on. His boots were quiet on the wooden floor. “She is my mama in the most traditional sense of the word. She did everything but give birth to me. Now, you… Yes, I will concede that she has raised you, but I use that word loosely. She raised you the same way teachers raise their students. She was not present for you as she was for me. Our relationships with her are fundamentally different.”

My blood boiled as he went on. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him. We stopped in the hallway. “Do you understand what I am saying?” His firm tone did not match the desperation that widened his eyes, as if a moment away from tearing up. “She is my mama.” The rest of that sentence hung in the air: not yours.

That was the first time I had genuinely felt bad for him. Her presence in his life had been so formative that the mere thought that he might not have been as important to her as she was to him is simply inconceivable.

“Her having other children does not negate her love for you,” I told him. “She loves us all equally.”

“No. She chose me, not the convent.”

I took his wrist and gently pried his hand off my arm. There was nothing else I wished to say to him. I know the truth. It does not bother me that he chooses not to believe it. In fact, I pity his inability to open his eyes and see just how vast Daughter Angela’s love can be. That she has made me feel loved and cared for all my life while living apart from me. The fact that he is still insecure about his importance to her, despite having lived with her for over twenty years, speaks volumes.

“You can be so unbending,” he muttered under his breath. “It is no wonder that you have not married.”

“Oh, is that the reason? Well, thank you for the enlightenment. Here I thought it had something to do with my oath.”

“Jesus.” He scoffed. Turning around, he resumed his exit.

I followed.

As soon as we entered the carriage, he drank from the canteen as if dying of thirst. I had to snatch it away from him or he would drink it all. He never learns! We had already performed a dozen rituals that morning; filling his body with too much holy water would poison him. He knows that! We fought most of the way back as I refused to return the canteen. His stubbornness is impossible to deal with. When he realized that I would not let up, he finally acquiesced, crossing his arms with a pout. I only returned the canteen once we had arrived.

“Your brother is testing my patience,” I told Princess Charlotte. She and her cousin were sitting on the couch, eating cake. I joined them with a huff. “He is more difficult than all the children that I have ever dealt with.”

“Well, he is quite stunted,” Lady Joan commented. “He is selfish, possessed and does not mean well. I am sorry that you must put up with him.”

I helped myself to a slice. “It has not been easy.”

“Is he alright now?” the princess asked me.

“Yes, he has recovered wonderfully and is now getting on my nerves.”

Lady Joan gave her cousin a look. “May I be quite crude and ask you about the other night? Why did you hold his hand?”

“In the rain?” I asked her.

She nodded. “It has left an impression.”

At this point, I would be more surprised to learn that something I have done has not left an impression. When it comes to him, it seems that everything does.

“To be quite honest with you, I do not know. I was not thinking that night. I extended my hand and he came over to take it.”

“Why would he do that?” Lady Joan asked me.

“We know why,” the princess interrupted. “He fancies you.”

My pulse grew uneven. “Oh, please.”

“I am serious,” she insisted. “He respects you.”

“If he did, I would not have so many obstacles in my way.”

“It does make sense,” Lady Joan mused. She sat comfortably against the backrest of the couch, leaning on her left shoulder in order to look at me. Princess Charlotte sat between us. “I do not believe he would have reconverted otherwise.”

“How do you know that?” I asked her.

“That he has reconverted?”

“Yes. I have not told anyone about that.”

“Well, Charlotte told me.”

We both glanced at the princess.

“The whole palace knows,” she defended. “I overheard it in the sunroom yesterday. I think Lady Mary was talking about it.”

“Oh, she must have heard it from Commander Conroy.”

“The commander of the royal guard?” I asked.

“Indeed. They are… good friends.” Lady Joan smiled.

“Lady Mary and the commander?” I was flabbergasted.

“You did not know?”

“My brother has this strange habit of keeping absolutely no secrets,” the princess chimed in. “He tells the commander everything.”

“And Lady Mary keeps everybody else informed,” Lady Joan added.

“I see.” I paused, feeling my heart jump. “What else has he said?”

“That you have been performing rituals together.”

“And that you are quite eye-catching.” Lady Joan grinned. “He is a pig, so that did not surprise me, but to know that he actually does have feelings for you… I must say that I am shocked. I thought he was made of stone.”

I still do not know what to make of that. Should I believe it? I would rather not. It is easier to believe that he sees me as a difficult person who constantly vexes him, or even a lady that he is physically attracted to, than a potential suitor that he might have feelings for. I would not know how to even begin addressing that.

He came looking for me late in the afternoon. It was a brief conversation; he just wanted to know if I was going to the ball tonight. Once again, I was not aware of it. These balls are strangely elusive for how large they are. It seems that one would only know if they were invited. I hesitated, thinking back on the last ball and how awkward I had felt there.

“I do not think that I am welcome,” I told him. “These balls are made for men and women, not members of the church.”

He stared at me. “You are a woman.”

“No—”

“No?”

“No, I am a clergywoman.”

“So, a woman.”

“Not a woman; a member of the church.”

He rolled his eyes, vexed already, and we had only just started talking. “Go,” he urged me. “Put on a nice dress and go.”

Now it was my turn to stare at him. “Why?”

“Because I would like to see you there.”

I scowled. “I will not be gambling with the married men you know. My friends spend these balls in the ballroom. You will not see me.”

“Yes, I will. I will be in the ballroom also.”

My eyes narrowed. “Surely, you are not inviting me to the ball.”

His face reddened and his posture stiffened. “Would that offend you so very much, Adelaide?”

“It is Daughter Adelaide to you, and yes. I shall not go to the ball with you, Your Highness. Good day.”

“Why?” He took my arm before I could leave. “Why?” he repeated, more anxious this time.

“Do not touch me.”

He let go.

“I am your nurse, not your future wife. Good day now.”

“Please, wait.” He raised his voice. “Please, do not leave. I am talking to you. I obviously do not mean to ask you as my promised; I am not mad. I am asking you as a friend.”

“Since when is that common practice?”

“Since the dawn of time. Welcome to nobility. Would you very much like to come to the ball with me as my lady friend, Daughter Adelaide?”

“Absolutely not.”

He scowled. “Why should you not like to have the Crown Prince of Vyerno accompany you to the ball?”

The Crown Prince of Vyerno. He had never felt the need to wave his status around like this. I must have offended him greatly.

“To be quite frank with you, Your Highness, I do not care for the prince one bit. The only man that I care about is my patient, Nikolai Gayle, and as he has pointed out before, he is my family.”

He gave me a look. “What…?” He shook his head. “Okay, fine. Would you like—”

“No!” I interrupted. “That is enough, Your Highness. Good day!”

“Stop being difficult!” he shouted. “You are so unreasonable! Are you seriously going to miss the ball just because you do not wish to go with me!?”

“I never said that I would not go, only that I shall not go with you. You wish to see me there, yes? Well, then you shall. Good day now.”

I was finally able to leave after that. I know that I should not have argued with him so fiercely, but hearing about his possible feelings for me, then having him ask me to the ball frightened me to such a degree that I did not know what to do other than vehemently deny that any of it was happening in the first place. Even his attraction to me is easier to handle, despite my lack of experience with it. It is easier to understand.

Returning to Princess Charlotte and her cousin, I found them giggling and failing to hold back smiles. Apparently, they had heard us loud and clear and thought that our back and forth was cute. I do not know how, but that is what they said. It must be because they had not participated in our conversation. Had a man spoken to them even a fraction of the way the prince speaks to me, I find it hard to believe they would consider it cute.

Lady Joan sprung up to her feet and announced that she would be dressing me up for the ball tonight. Princess Charlotte promptly joined in. They were so excited to set me up with the prince that I did not have the heart to tell them that it would never happen. That it could never happen.

As Lady Joan went over her dresses, picking something for me, I let myself wonder what my life would look like with them permanently in it. If I was a single woman looking to get married, not a member of the clergy. I would not hate to be their family. I would not hate to do this more. But marrying the prince is such an inconceivable thought that, until this very moment, I had never seriously considered it. Now, stupidly, I have. Here I was, letting Lady Joan and Princess Charlotte dress me up like a doll and dote on me, all the while I daydream about them calling me their sister and cousin.

Why am I heartbroken over a life that I know cannot be mine? I have always known that I would never get married. I have always known that I would never be a mother. That is a choice that I have made. Yet I yearn to spend all my days with Princess Charlotte twirling my hair around her finger while Lady Joan dresses me up and does my makeup. I am spoiled. I had never known what that feels like, and now that I do, I am starting to crave it.

I feel sick. I should not go. This is not who I am nor what I was made for. I am the one who dotes on others, not the other way around. I am a nurse. I am to give myself to my patients, not a husband. Oh, but what if he is also my patient? No. None of this is right.

I feel terribly unbecoming in such a beautiful gown, borrowed from someone else. A single woman. I do not look, nor feel like myself. I miss my coif and veil. I feel so exposed. I cannot remember the last time that I was seen in society with my hair out. That brief moment in the garden last week had been private. Princess Charlotte was my only witness.

I did not let Lady Joan put me in an evening gown. A clergywoman showing cleavage? I cannot imagine the embarrassment, the blasphemy. I am wearing a daytime bodice that covers up my throat and arms, although I did relent and let Lady Joan unbutton it a bit. She was so insistent. I love her to death, but she is making me blush. I feel so silly. The mere thought of the prince seeing me in an evening gown is mortifying. I do not know what he is capable of and I do not wish to find out. I am afraid that dressing too provocatively might push him to do something regrettable. And that I might not stop him. And that I, too, might enjoy it.

Oh, Lord, have mercy on my soul. Give me strength. I am about to make a big mistake. I hear the girls calling for me. The ball has begun. I cannot disappoint them.

← Previous  

Next →