Chapter 465: What She Knew

Chapter 464: What She Knew

Lyria’s POV

Jim merely grunted at my words.

It was scarcely an invitation, though neither was it a refusal. He sat heavily upon the couch, his hands resting upon his knees, his countenance still hardened by all that had been drawn from him. There was anger in his face, certainly, but beneath it I could detect something closer to resignation — weariness, perhaps, of a kind that anger alone could not account for.

I drew a quiet breath.

"Firstly," I said, "I m-must beg your p-pardon, and that of the p-people of this town, for all they have s-suffered, and for all they continue to s-suffer even now."

"I d-do not say this m-merely in the hope of m-making peace between us. I s-say it because I m-mean it entirely. What you have d-described to me is no life that a-any soul ought to be made to e-endure, and I am s-sorry, most sincerely, that you and the p-people of Gallowshill should have been l-left to bear it."

"But I s-shall be h-honest with you also," I told him. "You asked whether I k-know what it is to be a-abused. To beg. To g-go days w-without eating."

A faint, humourless laugh escaped me, and I shook my head.

"I fear there is a m-misapprehension between us which I m-must correct. You, and your p-people, look upon me n-now and behold a p-princess. You behold the Crown’s own r-representative, a-attended by n-nobles, by g-guards, by m-maids and I c-cannot fault you for s-supposing, upon such a sight, that my c-circumstances must have been a-altogether otherwise than they o-once were."

I tapped one finger lightly against the arm of the couch, that I might steady myself for what I was about to disclose.

"But to b-become a p-princess has n-not e-erased what came b-before it and I d-doubt it ever w-will."

My gaze drifted toward the window.

The glass was imperfect, and through it I could discern only a portion of the fields, and the people moving slowly about them. The sight seemed, in that moment, strangely distant — as though it belonged to some other hour than this one.

"I only endeavour now," I said quietly, "to see my own c-circumstances a-altered, rather than to a-accept all that has befallen me, and c-conclude there is no p-purpose whatsoever in attempting to c-change it."

"I know s-suffering," I said to him, my voice softer still.

"I know a-abuse."

I swallowed at that, for I knew abuse well enough — in body, and in mind — and the last of it, that which concerned acts taken without one’s consent, though it had not befallen me directly, I remained, in truth, the product of it.

"I know what it m-means to go hungry," I continued. "I know what it m-means to pass days without f-food, nor so much as w-water. I know what it m-means to go u-unseen by those who o-ought, by every right, to have s-seen you."

"I know what it m-means to be unable to s-speak for oneself, when one w-wishes very m-much to do so, yet circumstance d-decrees otherwise. I k-know what it m-means to hold no o-opinion worth the h-hearing. To be denied a c-choice that ought rightly to have been one’s o-own to make. I know what it m-means to be thrust into circumstances one has n-no wish to occupy, and to u-understand, besides, that one’s w-wishes shall alter n-nothing whatsoever."

"I know what it m-means to be s-spoken over. To be n-neglected." My voice faltered as I spoke further. "And I know what it m-means to be w-without the love of a p-parent who was o-once present for e-every part of o-one’s own life."

I smiled faintly, though the smile held no warmth in it. It was rather a smile turned upon myself, as though I mocked my own circumstance — though it had never, in truth, been of my own making.

"I know what it m-means for the life one has k-known to be u-uprooted, and a-altered utterly, within the s-space of a single instant."

A dry little laugh escaped me at that.

"That p-particular lesson I know r-rather well, for i-it has befallen m-me more than once, by my own a-account."

"I know what it m-means always to be c-chosen last. I know what it m-means to m-miss a parent one has l-loved one’s w-hole life — who w-would have done anything f-or one’s sake, even to the point of s-starving herself, that I m-might eat in her stead. I know what it m-means to s-steal, for there is n-nothing else to be d-done, if one is to s-survive. And I k-know, besides, what it m-means to be c-caught in the stealing of it, especially within the p-palace walls."

I had ceased tapping my fingers now, though my gaze remained fixed beyond the window.

"I know what it m-means to sleep upon b-beds scarcely softer than s-stone itself. I know what it m-means to lie c-cold the whole of a n-night through, for want of a b-blanket to place over oneself and then, when one is f-finally granted one, to find i-it thin, and h-hardly of any use at all. I know what it m-means to go a-always masked, for to s-show one’s own face is c-considered unbecoming, being, as it is, t-too vile a thing to be l-looked upon."

"I know what it m-means to be m-mocked continually, for the mere c-crime of b-being," I told Jim.

"For e-existing at all."

"I know what it m-means to be b-betrayed by one in whom you have placed d-deep trust, counting t-them even y-your dearest friend, only to be c-cast aside, having been u-used from t-the very outset by their own d-design. I k-know what i-it is t-to be h-held to blame for matters which were n-never of my doing."

At last I looked directly upon Jim, turning my gaze from the window. The crease between his brows deepened, as though he could not reconcile all I had told him.

"So yes, Jim. I know th-those t-things." My voice trembled with feeling behind it. "I shall n-not claim my own s-suffering to have been the equal of y-yours, nor shall I i-insult what you and your p-people have e-endured by s-suggesting it was. Your h-hardships remain y-your own, j-just as m-mine remain m-my own."

"But the n-notion that I h-have fared the b-better, merely because I am n-now acknowledged as a p-princess, is m-mistaken."

"And s-since we have u-undertaken to speak honestly, I m-must observe one f-further thing. In c-certain respects, your own p-people possessed something I d-did not."