Wash Away My Pain
“I don’t understand why you won’t take the deal!” The Duke exclaims to Jemilla, who is gazing out the carriage window.
They were on their way back from an event further inland, a Ball with many of the other Kingdoms, as well as a meeting to discuss marketing. Jemilla was still invited, even though she’s only fifteen. She even met a potential suitor and trade partner, and she turned him down.
“Because I don’t like him.” She answers simply. “I think in the future I will hold him to that trade, though. His economy sounds like he could need it.”
“You’re at the age to start thinking about marriage, Jemilla.”
“I’ll know when I’m ready.” She shifts around on her seat. Her dress may have been comfortable at the start, now it’s really starting to bug her. The sleeves are itchy and it’s ever so slightly too long, at least the corset was adjusted properly, unlike last time.
The Kingdom is hours away, the carriage is boring, especially with the Duke jabbering on about how she has to start thinking about how she will lead. The thing is, she’s done a lot of thinking.
The older she got, the more she realised how… not-so-great Molag led. Of course Molag did amazing things, and not only for Jemilla, but the lies. The wars and feuds that could have been settled peacefully.
That’s how Jemilla will lead. Peacefully. Everyone will do as they’re told, work as hard as they can for a better future. Everyone will be equal, and this starts with her encouraging, gaining their trust like Molag said she was doing. Jemilla is going to do a better job, she knows it.
She will make it a better Kingdom. For the citizens, for her friends, for Zazzalil.
Zazzalil is now a hunter/gatherer, like her mother had intended. She would come back from the forest with blisters and cuts, and always much food to sell. It is hard work, and sometimes, she doesn’t enjoy it.
“Can I just take a day off?” She would ask either Jemilla or her mum, every time getting the same answers.
“No.”
The trees that reel by get more and more familiar, until they are back at the Kingdom. The sky is getting darker, the moon is already shining, without a cloud in sight. Her eyes are getting droopy, she’s been awake since sunrise, away from home for four days.
The carriage pulls up to the palace, Jemilla reaches down and bunches up her skirt, swinging her legs off the seat and onto the stone path. She cannot wait to get these layers off, and go to sleep.
Her maids are about to help her with her dress, when a man comes running into her room, huffing. His face is red, hair stuck to the side of his head with sweat.
“Princess, the citizens…” He gasps, leaning over to catch his breath.
“What about the citizens?” Jemilla frowns, filling with concern.
“They are asking for you. On the edge of town, in the field.” He stammers.
What? What the heck is this?
Jemilla helps the maids undress her and put on more breathable clothes, struggling to quickly pull on her boots. I hope Zazzalil is okay, I don’t know what I would do without her.
Her limbs feel weak, and she grows weary of the rowdy people she can hear. There are few people in the streets, their judging eyes glaring as she passes by. She should be used to them, however this feels different.
She gets to the edge of town, spying a crowd of people, and a tree on fire. The tree is on fire.
“What is going on here?” She exclaims, everyone turning to face her, falling silent. Right at the front, Zazzalil stands. Grinning.
“You finally decided to show up,” She sneers, Jemilla is immediately taken aback.
“I only got back half an hour ago, I don’t know when you were expecting.” Jemilla shoots back. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Well, J-Mills. Everyone here, is sick of your bullshit.” The crowd nods in agreement as the fire climbs on the wind, Jemilla’s heart skips a beat.
“What ‘bullshit’ do you mean, Zazzalil?”
“Maybe how you force everyone to work for close to nothing, while storing loads of money so you can swoop in and save people when they need it?” Zazzalil crosses her arms, people shout in support. If only she knew how wrong she was. “Or when you need to feel important for a change.”
“We are by no means a rich Kingdom, but our prices for living are much lower than you think.” Jemilla tries to explain, pretending not to be hurt by her last comment, in spite of the falsity.
“Are they? So why are we starving? Why are we dying? We still have a mess to clean up after that war.”
“I don’t see you offering to help.” Jemilla feels herself getting defensive.
“You’re the most powerful girl in the land, and you do nothing. You say you’re going to change the law, you say all these things, but you never do.”
“It’s… It’s not that simple. There is a pro-”
“It is that simple! You know, I used to look up to you.” Zazzalil cuts her off, exhaling loudly. “I was like wow. She’s got great clothes, great hair, she’s got it together! She’s a princess!”
There is a pause, Zazzalil eyes Jemilla up and down, and it burns. She becomes self conscious, more so than before.
“But now I see what you’re really like. Afraid of change, and a scared, little… baby.”
This cut Jemilla more than she was willing to be let on.
“So we’ve decided. We don’t want, or need, your help anymore.” She declares, again, everyone chants in agreement.
“Fine. Fine. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine.” Jemilla bites back a sob. Who knew this would hurt so much? “But don’t forget what I’ve done for you.”
“Okay?” A confused look falls over Zazzalil’s face.
“I pay for extra food. I hold off wars. I taught you how to read and write. You are making a big mistake.” Jemilla says, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Okay?”
She looks around the silent crowd. Schwoopsie, Emberly, Tiblyn, Chorn, SB, ducker, all stare at her through rage. Heat crawls up her neck, tears well in her eyes. She runs away before she can cry.
They don’t matter, she decides as she trudges up the hill back to the palace. What was she thinking, anyway? She never should’ve become friends with them in the first place. They are townspeople, they are below her. But if they are below her, why does it hurt so much?
She always stayed true to her word, right? They say she doesn’t because they don’t see behind the scenes, they don’t know how the law works in this Kingdom.
Zazzalil doesn’t matter, she decides as she enters her bathroom, turning on the hot water. Being her friend is a waste of time, it always was. Helping her was a waste of money that others could have used. She was always reckless, and Jemilla used to love that about her, but now she isn’t so sure.
Jemilla strips off her clothes, and steps into the bath, her head running wild. Her thoughts are contradictory, swinging back and forth between who to blame. It was so unexpected, she had been gone four days. The last letter Zazzalil had sent her said “I’m going to miss you.” and Jemilla was stupid enough to believe it.
She had been stupid to believe everything Zazzalil had told her.
Perhaps she should have seen this coming. Especially with all that talk of wanting to be lazy. All Jemilla did was protect, she never meant to come off as controlling. She never should have let herself go the lengths she did. She would fuss, she would ban, maybe she did the wrong thing.
However, setting the tree on fire… Jemilla had told Zazzalil how much she hates it, how dangerous it is.
Every inkling of thought stings, and more tears slip down her face. Jemilla sinks further into the bath, until her entire body and face are submerged in the warm water. She hopes it washes away her feelings. She hopes that if she scrubs hard enough, it will rid her of any (fully platonic) feelings for Zazzalil, and replace it with hate.
God knows that doesn’t work.