Divided We Fall

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 11 (v.1) - Chapter Eleven

Submitted: September 17, 2019

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Comments: 1

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Submitted: September 17, 2019



 The next morning Raquelle told Erik that she felt better and could travel again.
“Please,” she begged. “I promise. Yesterday was just a bad day. I can go.”

“No you can’t. You know you can’t. I knew if we kept pressing you something like this would happen.” Erik sighed and rubbed his temples. He wanted to get to Lola as fast as possible. He didn’t want to hurt another child in the process. 

Emilia, hearing conversation, walked over to see what was going on. Erik looked to her, relieved to have someone to back him up. “Tell her she can’t travel. She won’t listen to me.” 

Emilia put on a sickly sweet smile. “Raquelle, sweetie, you’re way too weak to go now. If you do, it might get worse.”

“Then just kill me!” 

Erik jerked his head up to stare at her, and even Emilia’s eyes widened a little bit. “What did you just say?” Erik said, stepping closer. 

“I said, just kill me. You have a knife. Slit my throat. Choke me. Poison me. But don’t make me endure the torture of knowing winter is coming closer every minute, and a little girl is getting hurt more every minute, and we can’t save her because of me.” She looked directly into their pupils, back and forth. 

Erik opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. “I guess we could keep moving.” Raquelle started to walk. Erik could literally see how weak she was in her staggered step. “Not you,” he said, and scooped her up. 

Raquelle thought of protesting, but decided against it. Besides, being carried is far easier than walking. “Thank you,” she whispered, grateful tears in her eyes. 

“No problem.” Erik glanced at Emilia, with her blonde curls blowing in the wind. She caught him staring and flashed a sexy smile, luring him in with her blue jewels of eyes. He moved a little closer to her. 

“She’s a stubborn little thing,” she whispered, once she was sure Raquelle was asleep. 

“She is. And a fighter,” Erik added. 

“What’s going to happen to her once we get to Whitewood?” Emilia was sure she knew the answer, but asked anyway. 

“She’s staying with us.” His voice was firm. “I’ve seen orphans before, and orphanages. Everyone thinks it’s a good place, but--” he shook his head “--it’s not. It’s miserable there. And as long as I can prevent it, she’s not going there.” 

“Okay. That’s fine. So it’ll be you, me, Raquelle, and Lola. Nice.”

“We’ll get a house.” 


“Where does my queen want it?” 

Emilia smiled at the nickname. She hadn’t gotten much affection as a child. It felt nice to be cared about. “On the beach,” she answered, imagining silky waves, sugar sand, and that wonderful salty smell. 

“On the beach. Isn’t that a little fancy for our situation?” 

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Yes. A small little beach house. Painted Prussian blue, with white shutters and a small porch. Lots of big windows. Small, two bedroom, two bath, with a big kitchen.” 

“Isn’t a bunch of kids with a house like that going to seem strange? We’re going to look very stuck up.”

“Who cares? No one knows us. We’ll be strangers in a distant land.” 

Erik thought for a moment. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” 

She blossomed into smiles, and a second later, he followed. “It will be a nice, quiet, peaceful life,” Emilia continued, fantasizing some more. “And we can have kids. Lots and lots of kids.” 

At this Erik choked. Kids? They hadn’t even planned a wedding. Really, all they’d done was talk and touch and feel. Did he love her? Of course he did. At least he thought so. But kids already? It seemed so far off it wasn’t worth wasting thought on, like becoming old. (Death wasn’t really accurate with all the raids and battles and danger around). 

“First we have to get married,” he said, and looked at her hand. He could imagine blood red rubies against her creamy skin. Maybe sapphires to bring out her eyes. Emeralds would be pretty, too, on a gold band. First he had to get the money to afford a ring. But when he did, he promised himself it would be the prettiest thing there was. 

“Of course! Marriage. Would I look better in white or ivory? Gold or silver accents? Should there be crystals? My mother had a veil with crystals on it. She said it was beautiful.” 

Erik studied her and considered the question. “White. Silver. Yes, lots of crystals. Everywhere.” 

“And the cake. What flavor?”

“Whatever you want.” 

“Well, what do you want?”

“What you do.” 

“That’s what I was going to say!” Emilia giggled. “Okay. We’ll let Lola decide. Does she like cake?”

“I’m sure she would. She’s never had it.” 

“That’s too bad. Every child should taste cake.” 


Their gazes drifted to the sleeping girl in Erik’s arms, who stirred once and turned on her side. 

“You suppose she’s ever had cake?” Emilia’s question broke the silence. 

“If she hasn’t, she will soon. When we get to Whitewood, we’ll eat cake every day.”

“And ice cream.”

“And fudge.”
“Who’s going to make all this food?” 

Erik thought. “I’ll get a good paying job, and we’ll buy it. The fancy stuff with decorations that looks more like art than dessert.” 

Emilia clasped her hands together. “If you weren’t holding her, I’d kiss you right now.” 

“Same here.” 

They stepped over a pile of scattered rocks on the ground. The ravine was deep and rocky. It had an eerie feeling to it, too. Like you were being followed by something. But then you’d turn around, and there would be no one there.

“And when I get that good paying job, I’ll buy you the prettiest dresses money can buy.”

“Even one of silk? I want a silk dress.”

“You will get all the silk you desire.”

Her smile grew wider. “And one of velvet?”

“Red velvet.” 


“Isn’t the same as silk?”


“Then, yes. Satin too.” 

“And a puppy.”

“A puppy? What do puppies have to do with clothes?”

Emilia laughed again. “Nothing. I just want a puppy.”

“Then yes. You will get a puppy.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing that game. Emilia hoped that this proved that he loved her, would marry her, and then this whole mess could be over. It had to be. She looked over her shoulder once more. Still no one. 

But she had a feeling they were coming.


© Copyright 2019 Rachel Stone. All rights reserved.


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