“Please sit.” Father’s voice was more commanding than welcoming. I took my spot, sandwiched between both kings. I fought to ignore the tingling in my legs. Every inch of me wanted to hightail it out the door. King Aswell didn’t waste a moment to lock his eyes on me. “Erralee, your father tells me you enjoy nature.”
For the first time since this man’s presence was announced, I felt I’d survive dinner. My shoulders relaxed, and I breathed with slightly more ease. “Yes.” Being careful not to talk toomuch, I coined a concise reply. “I feel peaceful when I’m in the fresh air.”
King Aswell gave a slow nod, with his gaze so focused it was more reminiscent of how a doctor examines people, than someone trying to get to know me. “On my island,” he went on, “we have rocky terrain that isn’t suitable for farming. It has been developed into magnificent stone buildings. Some of the most beautiful churches, libraries, and universities. Being more of an intellectual myself, I don’t miss the primitive culture that thrives in rural areas.”
“Oh.” I tilted away from the king, mulling over whether that had been a cleverly worded insult, or not. Deciding to give the king the benefit of the doubt, I pushed past his comment. “What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”
The king straightened his back even more, as he clearly wore his pride in his posture. “I can spend hours every day reading and researching.”
“Reading . . . er,” My gaze shifted to the side, as I was never one to sit still long enough to read more than a page at once, especially when inside the palace. Each room had large open balconies which constantly beckoned me to go outside. Nature was always more interesting than words on a page. “That’s fascinating. I do enjoy a nice photo book of landscapes,” I forced out as I shot a gaze at my sister, who was beaming ear to ear.
Ruenella was brilliant, but had allergies, which made her loathe the outdoors. She was dainty in every way, from her pale skin to her so-blonde-it’s-almost white hair. She was a romantic at heart, who dreamed of being courted by a king. It was clear to me she was the better match. I gazed at my sister, thankful the king had more in common with her. I nudged my head toward King Aswell, pleading with my eyes for her to banter with him, but bless her heart for being so shy, she just froze, leaving me to suffer through his small talk.
When dinner was over, Father took King Aswell into the library to take part in his nightly tall glass of scotch and a cigar. It was his only vice, and Mother hated it. Even his doctor warned it was time to cut back, but he was stubborn, persisting. What made it even worse was the way it had now become his social function, and he regularly received gifts of the most expensive cigars, and he vowed it was wasteful not to indulge.
I was ecstatic to be excused to my room, where I immediately changed out of my dinner dress into a linen nightgown, wasting no time retrieving the paper from Weston. In the bustle of getting ushered to dinner I hadn’t had time to look at it. My lips curled into a grin steeped in awe. An origami bird, folded from silver cardstock. As I moved his head, his wings flapped, and underneath one of the wings was writing in the tiniest print. A secret.
Caged birds whistle for sovereignty behind golden doors while the feral birds soar.
Erralee, never forget you are the feral bird.
X Weston
My lips curled, holding the secret. Weston was one of the few people who understood my spirit. His single mom had been my nanny when I was younger. We grew up chasing each other around the palace grounds like siblings. He’s the one man who saw through my royal façade because he’d grown up behind the curtain. I trusted him with my life. He clearly saw what my parents were up to, trying to pawn me off. This was his way of showing his support.
I shuddered as I recalled King Aswell’s face. Father had to be out of his mind to even suggest we’d be a good couple. I reread the writing several times before I resigned myself to staring wistfully out my terrace window.If only I had real wings . . . Then I could leave this palace forever, and not be subject to Father’s rules. Or at least his selfish schemes. He seemed toforget that arranged marriages aren’t really a thing in first-world countries. Mother always acted indifferent, as if she thought he was merely joking, but there was nothing funny about the thought of being forced into a marriage that only your father wants.
I placed the bird in my top vanity drawer, pushing it to the back so the nosey maids wouldn’t find it. Then I meandered outside on my private balcony, searching for the owl who had recently built a nest in an older oak tree cavity near the courtyard’s edge. He only came out if he didn’t see me. Careful to crouch below the terrace spindles, I peered through the vertical slates.
Tonight, he did not disappoint. His eyes glowed gold, his feathers ruffled out, fattening him, while adding to his magnificence. I held my breath, captivated, as he commanded from his nest, so still and wise. Before long, my mind floated to that handsome man I met earlier. Where had he come from? I’d been visiting that spot for years and had never seen him before. His eyes . . . It’s like God spent a little more time on those.
They were definitely more alluring than that hooked-nosed king. As annoying as that man was, anything was better than King Arrogant, I mean . . . Aswell.
three
Reeves
It’s funny how getting blasted by a landmine leaves a metallic taste in your mouth. Yanking on my always-stuck kitchen drawer until it flew opened, I easily spotted a pack of breath mints, grabbed it, and popped one in my mouth. Rolling my tongue over it, I tried to dull the metallic sensation. Even after weeks of healing, the taste still lingered. The doctors said it was metal toxicity, and it would go away. I was starting to think that I was going crazy. Strong coffee was the only thing that muted it, but with the main water pipe busted, that meant no coffee at my house.
It’d only been a month since the official discharge from the army, with a prosthetic hand and a pat on the back. It had cost me five years of dedication—and almost my life—now it already felt like a dream.
Except at night.
That was a nightmare.
Nobody warned me about that.
I had hellacious night terrors. I tried switching my diet, and going to bed early but that didn’t help. The only thing that stopped them was dropping to my knees, begging for the angels to surround me with their protection. Not the chubby little cherubs you see in gift stores. These days, I go straight to the archangels with swords. The ones I had met on the battlefield. Those are the guys you want on your side.
I chuckled, not because it was funny. It was the kind of thing that if you didn’t learn to laugh about it, you’d cry. Crying wasn’t going to solve anything. I sought solutions.
That’s my motto, and why I was still alive, with civilian freedom. All that was left to do was test out this whole pursuit of happiness thing I had almost died defending.
For me at least, pursuing happiness was a piece of land out in the middle of nowhere.
A fresh start.
Even if it meant repairing this run-down shack from the ground up, I’d get it done. This little house had been vacant for years. A decade ago, it had housed a family who worked for the king on his farms. It wasn’t much compared to the huge plots of land the modern industrial farms managed. It also wasn’t enough land to make a living on. I was working on acquiring more land. For right now, this was home.
