Dey stared at the closed wardrobe for a long moment, unblinking. “What do you mean you cannot wear them?” he protested. “Are they not resplendent?”
“Oh, they’re gorgeous, no doubt. But it’s still a hard pass. I wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing any of these dresses.”
I thought Dey’s eyes might actually pop out of his head. “You must! The palace seamstresses have been working on these ever since you arrived yesterday. They toiled throughout the night to ensure you would have the most beautiful gowns for your first dinner with the court this evening.”
I shrugged and picked at a chipped nail. “Well, I’ll make it easier for everyone. I’m not interested in some fancy-ass dinner tonight, or any night, so I don’t need a dress. I’m sorry they worked so hard, but I didn’t ask anyone to do that.” I took in Dey's silent look of sheer disbelief and started pacing restlessly around the room. “Did anyone here think to talk to me first? All of you are so set on me embracing life as a princess, but did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to be a princess? I’m not royal or refined or any of that crap, and I don’t want to be. Yeah, I hate being poor back home, but at least I’m free to live my life however I choose. You have no idea what it was like for me growing up. I spent my whole life in foster homes where I had to do exactly what I was told or risk getting sent back to theorphanage.” I gulped. “Or worse. The constant fear and pressure to be perfect was torture.”
My chest constricted at the reminder of my traumatic adolescent years. I couldn't go back to being judged and scrutinized all the time. I justcouldn't.
My knees trembled, but Dey lunged forward, catching me before I could fall altogether.
“It will be all right,” he said, running his hands over my back in long soothing motions. “We will find something else for you to wear, and I will tell King Verren you are not able to dine with the court this evening.”
“Thank you,” I said, though it came out muffled since my face was firmly pressed against his chest.
Eventually I pulled away and sat on the bed.
“I will see if I can find you some breeches and a tunic,” he said, moving toward the door. “I will return shortly.”
I waited until I heard the door click shut, then pulled the chair from the hearth over to the window so I could watch the people moving about the courtyard below. The suns were low enough that the diamonds were no longer a concern, and everyone down there just seemed… happy.
Was it wrong to not even consider a possible life here? Maybe. The truth was no matter what anyone said, I didn't feel like a princess or a Vitaean. I felt human. And that part of me would never belong in this world.
The first sun had fully set by the time Dey returned with a stack of sleeveless shirts and tight pants. He offered to escort me to dinner in the king's personal dining room so I could avoid the courtiers, but I declined, telling him I needed some time alone. He left, but not before I saw the disappointed look on his face.
I spent the rest of the evening at the window, lost in thought as the day bled fully into night.
Before heading to bed, I decided that I should at least say goodnight to Dey and maybe apologize for my meltdown. He was just doing what my father asked, yet he kept taking the brunt of my anger.
I padded down the uncomfortably silent hallway, my bare feet feeling cool against the stone floor. As I passed the room next to mine, a flicker of candlelight caught my attention, drawing me toward the open door. Looking for any excuse to stave off my awkward apology a bit longer, I peeked inside.
A young lady slept on a spacious bed in the middle of the room, candles spread throughout tossing a warm glow onto her porcelain face. I turned to leave before I woke her up, but my hand hesitated on the door knob. There was something about her, something off.
I took a step further into the room. She lay flat on her back, arms against her sides, a look of youthful innocence on her sleeping face. I guessed her to be no older than sixteen. She didn’t shift or make any indication that she even knew I was there. I edged closer, fearing at any moment she would awake and start screeching at me in Rivellan to get the hell out of her room.
She didn’t stir, so I moved right up to the side of the bed. Her hair was long and dark, like mine, yet her lips and face were pale. Too pale. Everyone here had at least a hint of the sun's kiss to their skin. I leaned over and could see that she was breathing at least, though the blanket tucked into her sides barely rippled.
There was something pulling me to her, something so familiar about her face. I reached my hand out hesitantly, just to touch her cheek, to confirm for myself that her skin was warm and she was alive.
As my fingers were about to make contact, her eyes flew open, and her hand shot out to grab mine. I gasped and tried to pull back, but her grip was painfully firm, holding me in place. Her eyes, wild and unseeing, were identical to my own, and a word came unbidden to my lips—sister.
This was Verren’s daughter. He told me his children died, but there was no denying my resemblance to the girl on the bed.
She held me in her grip, unmoving beyond the one hand clutching my arm tightly. Her eyes connected with mine, and her lips parted.
“Selvarea.”
Then her eyes closed, and her hand released mine to drift back to her side.
Before I could register what happened, the door to the bathroom opened, and a servant stepped into the room. Her eyes took in the scene, saw me leaning over the king's daughter and gave me a horrified look.
I threw my hands up, backing away hurriedly. “I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”
I couldn’t tell if the servant was angry or scared, but I didn’t wait to find out. I tore out of the room as fast as my legs would take me.
Spinning to the left, I took off back down the hall. I barely made it two steps before I crashed into a hard body.
Strong hands gripped my shoulders and slammed me roughly into the stone wall. Pain from the impact shot down my spine, and I cried out.
