I realised that I had been unfair to Selene; not recognising her as a whole person, expecting too much given the circumstances. Circumstances I hadn’t fully appreciated.
Even as I sat on a train, having effectively fled the Academy, I couldn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of the potential consequences from my new ability.
I was still me. I wasn’t a danger to anyone. But that didn’t mean that others weren’t a danger to me.
Selene seemed to be acutely aware of the potential danger I faced. And if she was so worried—scared enough to barely keep control of herself—maybe I should be worried too.
I was silent for a time, listening only to my own breathing. I spotted the leather bag containing the letters and curiosity got the better of me. I broke the silence between us.
“What were you reading that made you so upset?” I asked quietly.
“Will you let it go if I don’t answer,” she replied just as quietly.
“You don’t have to answer me. You seem happy enough to leave me in the dark. But I’m curious,” I replied. I regretted my snarky response almost instantly when I felt her breath halt in her chest.
“You don’t have to tell me. Sorry,” I apologised.
She cleared her throat before beginning. “Correspondence from the Council of Ardens. There has been some disruption within the consolidated lands of Vouna. Not everyone is happy with the new arrangements. My cousin is causing a fuss,” she explained.
“Your cousin?” I asked. The only cousin I knew of was Valen and he was dead.
“I have many cousins,” she began, understanding my confusion, “most are distant—my mother's cousins and their children. They were understandably unhappy that after the traitor’s death, a successor was not chosen from their ranks, as is customary when the next in line holds a higher title.
Claiming the title of Marchioness of Ardens was not polite. Some of my cousins are bringing forth arguments that because House Ardens now encompasses what was once Vouna, and due to my Royal duties, I should appoint someone to govern in myplace,” she said. I felt a rumble of a slight growl against my cheek that rested on her chest.
“The disrespect of such a suggestion angers me. Yet, I must respond carefully. There has been too much disruption to the land and people, and I cannot simply rip out the insolent throat of the one currently trying to steal my place in all ways but title.”
Her voice had lowered until she was whispering softly to me. “We cannot be sure, who may overhear us,” she warned.
I thought about what she had said. From my brief time in Vouna and from my talks with Remy, I didn’t think the ordinary people there cared for Clara or her parents. Selene would be a much better ruler. She would be fair, she cared about the people of her kingdom; even if she didn’t really believe in equality.
“You are thinking too hard. I can almost hear the wheels of your mind turning,” she said softly, squeezing me gently.
“Why are the people of Vouna—or what was Vouna—upset? When I was there in the summer, I saw how Vouna guard treated people. They locked people up, even killed them when they couldn’t pay their taxes. They murdered people’s family as punishment for crimes. It didn’t seem to me that the people of Vouna were happy before. Don’t they know that you’ll treat them better? That things will be better under your rule?” I asked.
Selene chuckled, her chest rising and falling. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of me, pet. Do you think me a virtuous leader?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “You pretend to be all high and royal and noble, but you’re all about responsibility. You feel a lot of pressure to be a good leader.”
“You think you know me,” Selene replied, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“I know you better than anyone.”
“How can you be so sure?” she questioned. “How can you be so sure that the pressure I feel is to be a good leader?” she continued.
“Because,” I started and then hesitated. What else would a future queen feel pressured by?
“You are correct. Pressure threatens to crush me. Yet none of it comes from my Royal duties,” she admitted, sighing heavily as she lifted her head and rest it against the window.
“What do you feel pressure over?” I asked, curiously. What felt so heavy it could crush her?
“You,” she replied.
I was silent. No longer did I feel weightless in her arms—but heavy and cumbersome.
She was scared, worried, behaving in ways that frightened me, all because of me. Because of the pressure of being my soul match. A soul match she hadn’t wanted in the first place. A bond that she refused to allow to develop fully.
There was a light rap on the compartment door.
