“That bit sucks a big bag of dicks as well,” she says, causing me to spit out my water.
I burst out laughing, and she joins in with a satisfied smile. When we’re done, I let my smile fade. “But bags of dicks aside, tell me more about this lack of freedom.”
“Well,” she says with a sigh. “First, I’d like to preface this with my knowledge of how very irritating it would be for most people to listen to someone in a position of considerable privilege complain about how awful their life is. I do understand how lucky I am that I never have to worry where my next meal is coming from or if I can pay the power bill this month. Those arerealproblems compared to mine.”
“But?”
“But my… particular situation… has in fact lent itself to a more restricted existence than other royals.”
I stare down at her for a second, trying not to think about kissing her. “How so?”
Arabella narrows her eyes, giving me an intense look. “What I’m about to tell you is extremely private, so I must ask you never to share it with anyone.”
“Never. Not even if I were tortured.”
“Excellent,” she says with a grin that quickly fades. “The truth is, as long as I can remember, people have always said how much I resemble my mother—not only in how I look, but how I speak and move. Everything. I know they mean it as a comfort to me, but it has the opposite effect. As far as I can gather, my mother was … not well, and the royal life proved too difficult for her.” Arabella turns her gaze to the shore, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet. “She couldn’t handle it, and it took its toll on her, mentally and physically. Eventually, it was her undoing.”
I stare at her for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. “But your mum passed on, didn’t she?”
She nods. “When I was two months old. Who does that when they have a new baby who needs them?”
My heart squeezes, and instinctively, I reach for her, folding my hand around hers. “I'm so sorry, Arabella. I don't even know what to say.”
“It's fine, really,” she says, shaking her head quickly. “It's not like I knew her or anything.”
“But the fact that you never got a chance to know her, I'm sorry for that.”
“Thank you. I used to spend hours at a time secretly watching any footage of her that I could find, trying to imitate the way she walked, or how she spoke. I didn't know then how she died. The official line is that she had sudden heart failure, which is what I believed for most of my childhood.”
Well, my idea of steering the conversation into safer waters has failed miserably. We’re about to go over a waterfall, aren’t we?“When did you find out?”
“When I was twelve. It was the anniversary of her death, and I wanted to do something special for her to mark the occasion—a family dinner in the solarium, which was her favourite place at the palace. Arthur was almost grown by then, but still had that surly teenager in him. When I asked him if he would come, he said ‘never,’ and told me there was nothing to celebrate. I got angry and pushed the issue until he finally cracked.”
A heavy feeling fills me and it’s all I can do not to pull her into my arms and hold her until I can take all her pain away. “God, what a burden for a twelve-year-old.”
She nods slowly, seeming to be lost in the memory for a moment before she clears her throat and snaps back into being a very formal princess. “I'm sure she didn't realize what legacy she was leaving for me. A lifetime of being surrounded by people who treat me as if I’m the world’s most delicate vase. When you grow up that way, you start to believe it yourself.”
“So, that's why you're out here,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand.
She nods again.
“To prove to everyone you know that you are a strong person.”
Arabella looks up at me and shakes her head. “That's why IthoughtI came, but the longer I'm out here, the more I realize I needed to prove it to myself.”
I suddenly remember I'm still holding her hand, and I start to loosen my grip, only to have her flip her palm up and lace her fingers through mine. It's seemingly nothing, and yet it does something to me I can't comprehend. I'm overwhelmed by her—by who she is and what she’s been through—and I'm completely unable to do anything about it.
She smiles at me. “Your turn. Truth or dare.”
“Dare.” I say, grinning back at her.
“I dare you to tell me the truth about one thing.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You're a bit of a cheater.”
“I take offense to that. I've never cheated at anything in my life.”
“I find that hard to believe coming from Princess Pickpocket.”
