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That night—or really, the early morning—of Rishe’s birthday, after receiving the “gift” she had requested of prince Arnold, Rishe found she could not sleep. Attributing her insomnia to the evening’s embarrassment and ensuing revelation, Rishe simply applied a bit of makeup at sunrise and went about her day as usual.
If she slipped and revealed her exhaustion, she simply told anyone concerned that the day before had been too busy and that was the reason for it. Most believed her, but she avoided prince Arnold, Oliver, prince Theodore, and Raul.
There was no way she could lie to any of them.
When evening rolled around, Rishe was so tired she thought for sure she’d fall asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. All day she’d been jumping at every little noise and been hyper-aware of all the people around her. She’d thought it was because she was trying to avoid prince Arnold and the others, but as she laid in bed and still felt every nearby presence, she knew that couldn’t be it.
By the time the sun was rising again, Rishe hadn’t slept a wink. She had laid still, closed her eyes, and regulated her breathing. Instead of thinking of that night, she ran through the names of every herb she could think of and the different ways to combine them into medicines. Not even that mundane exercise had lulled her mind to sleep.
Rishe understood that the lack of sleep was not a good thing, but it took her entirely too long to figure out why it was happening. Her oversensitive nerves and hyperawareness were not due to the lack of sleep—they were the reason for the lack of sleep.
She was still reacting to that night before her birthday; to the fight in which she’d purposefully placed herself.
Unlike the other times she’d needed to take up arms while with prince Arnold, that night had been the first time—in this lifetime—that she’d had to defend herself from being killed.
Theodore’s men had been instructed not to hurt her. The rush with Professor Hevin’s powder was to protect others. That poisoned arrow in Domana didn’t quite count, since the sleeping medicine had prevented a normal reaction, so the antidote had time to work before her body could really register the danger. Crossing swords with Raul while protecting princess Harriet wasn’t even a real duel, and Raul’s hunters had only intended to slow Prince Arnold’s advancement through town.
So that night, on stage, with arrows flying at her with deadly intent and armed men ready to kill her even if it meant their own lives—that was the first time in this, her seventh life, that Rishe had needed to protect herself from actual danger.
The problem was, her body was not yet trained for such a situation. This, her fifteen—no, now sixteen—year old body wasn’t the honed fighting machine she’d cultivated in her sixth life, nor the sturdy, steadfast body she’d had in her fifth. She’d only just begun her training and hadn’t even brought up her stamina yet, to say nothing of her previous abilities to rest while also remaining alert.
Her mind, though, remembered the training, and was forcing her body through it, even if it wasn’t prepared.
On the third night, with her body shaking with strain and her mind not seeming to calm down in the least, Rishe borrowed Arnold’s spare sword. Thinking that maybe forcing her body into the old habit of sleeping with a sword at the ready would trick her into finally getting some sleep, she slipped into her “Lucius” uniform, propped her back up against a wall that allowed her to face all possible entrances to her room, and leaned on the heavy, sheathed blade.
When she still wasn’t able to fall asleep hours later, Rishe felt like she was going to cry.
If this kept up, her body would collapse on its own, and she would have no say over the when or how.
She had at least managed to force herself into a sort of meditative state—not quite dozing, but not thinking of much else except the living presences she could feel. Unfortunately, due to being so overtired, that sense wasn’t even working accurately.
Someone had come near her without her notice, and in a panic, she shot up, drawing the sword, ready to swing. Except her body didn’t have the strength for that, and the entire world tilted as the sword tumbled uselessly from her hand.
“Rishe!”
Something grabbed her, and her mind knew the moves to throw off an attacker, but her limbs felt so heavy and clumsy. She struggled to get away as whatever it was drew her closer. Her breathing was far too fast—she would hyperventilate at this rate, but she couldn’t get it under control!
Moving erratically in her desperation to get free, she twisted and turned, preparing to ram her elbow into whatever she could reach. But then something grabbed both of her wrists, forced her arms to cross in front of her, and then pulled her back tightly against something warm.
“Rishe!” This time her name was whispered softly, directly into her ear. The strangeness of it—the softness and care—broke her out of her panic and allowed her to calm her breathing and get her eyes to somewhat focus.
She was in her room. Whoever was holding her wasn’t attacking. She recognized that presence. The sound of his voice. Even how he smelled, with her pressed so close to him.
“Prince…Arnold?”
His hold relaxed on her and she dropped her arms as he slowly turned her to face him.
“Rishe?”
Her eyes wouldn’t focus properly, but she would know that shade of blue anywhere.
“Prince Arnold?” she said again, maybe trying to reassure herself that it really was him. “What are you doing here?”
He let out a frustrated sigh.
“You’re an idiot if you think the maids and knights around you don’t recognize when there’s something wrong.”
She blinked. It took her a while to process his words.
“Oh.” Looking over his shoulder as though she thought someone would be standing there, she took a few deep breaths. “I can’t think straight right now.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Arnold cupped her face in his hands, stepping closer so his face would be all she could see, fuzzy as it was. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I thought you’d know, like you always do,” Rishe said, her words slurring just a bit. While her brain was mush, she still knew not to give away anything about her prior trainings. “...I can’t sleep. After that night, fighting those men…my mind won’t stop-“
Arnold wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to his chest. One hand came up and began stroking her hair.
“You should have told me sooner,” he said, voice low and rumbling. Though her brain was in a fog, she had the thought that he was angry…but not at her.
“I told you: I can’t think straight.”
He let out a frustrated groan, then picked her up.
“Ug-whoa.” The world was already tilting at the edges; picking her up was throwing her off that much more. “Your highness, what are you-“
“I’m paying you back for that time you insisted on helping me take a nap.” The way he’d said it, Rishe had the thought that he wasn’t too pleased.
“That’s not-…you don’t-…”
“It isn’t the same, though in a way it is.” He shifted her around in his arms and then she was sitting in his lap. He had settled onto one of the sofas in her room.
“But…my bed?”
Since she was still pressed up against his chest, she could feel the way he stilled at her words.
“…This is safer.”
“Hm?”
Arnold began stroking her hair again, pulling her head to rest with her ear against his chest. As he spoke, every word rumbled through her, but it was actually quite soothing to her overworked nerves.
“You’re still reacting to the danger you were in,” he began, and Rishe realized she couldn’t give away that she already knew what he was telling her. A noblewoman would not have had any such experience, after all. Still, she enjoyed hearing his soft voice as it rumbled through her ear. As always, Prince Arnold’s explanation was clear, concise, and correct.
“Like you told me that time, just focus on me.”
It wasn’t hard to do, since he was holding her so close, running his fingers through her hair.
“You were right,” she mumbled, her eyes finally closing without her having to force them. His hand paused as he listened. “I do feel safer now, and it helps.”
Again, pressed so close she could feel him go still, and also when he huffed out a gentle laugh. His heart beat a little faster for just a few seconds before returning to its normal, steady rhythm. She wasn’t sure what was so funny, but stopped trying to figure it out as his hand returned to gently stroking her hair.
“If that’s the way you see it, then that’s fine.”
Rishe thought she felt something press against the very top of her head, but her mind was finally, finally going blank.
“Good night, Rishe.”
That was the last thing she heard before completely falling asleep at last.