Either way, I’ll lose her.
“The welcome dinner is tomorrow evening,” my mother says. “Please be on time, and please be pleasant. These women will have traveled a long way, and many of them are very excited to meet you.”
I nod because my throat has closed and words won’t come.
She moves toward me and places her hand on my shoulder. “I know you don’t think you’re capable of falling in love. You might be surprised by what happens when you actually try.”
I want to tell her I’ve found someone who makes me feel alive. But everything I want is impossible.
“I’ll be there,” I say instead.
I leave before my face can betray me.
The hallway stretches ahead as I walk without direction, burning off the restless energy building beneath my skin. An hour ago, I was planning what shirt to wear to impress Addison, and now I’m trying to figure out how to face her, knowing that everything between us has gotten more complicated.
Except I can’t tell her because the arrangement is confidential. I’m legally prohibited from discussing this with anyone outside the family, and breaking that rule would mean breaking promises I made to my parents, the council, and my country.
I end up at the chessboard, and my note is still there, tucked beneath her queen, where I left it this morning. She must be busy working. I should spare us both from pretending we could have something that was never possible. The smart move would be to create distance and let this thing between us cool before we both melt.
The hours until five crawl by. I try to work and fail, flipping through the same document four times without absorbing a word, then I change my shirt. At four forty-five, I head to the conservatory because staying away isn’t an option.
She’s already there with her easel positioned near the windows, where the light is best. Her hair is piled on top of her head with a paintbrush stuck through it, and there’s a smudge of cerulean on her jaw. She’s mixing colors with that focused expression I’m starting to need too much.
“You arrived early,” I say from the doorway.
She looks up, and her mouth curves. “Don’t let it go to your head. I couldn’t wait.”
“Same.”
She gestures to the chair with her brush. “Sit. Grace me with your presence.”
“How’s this?”
“You’re tense.” She studies me. “What happened?”
I drop my shoulders and try to settle into position, but my body won’t cooperate.
“Long day,” I offer.
She loads her brush and watches me for a moment before turning to the canvas. “Did you know eighty-five percent of what we worry about doesn’t come to fruition?”
“It’s the other fifteen percent that concerns me,” I explain.
“You look like someone canceled your birthday.” She starts working on the painting.
I try to relax, but I keep thinking about the seven women who will arrive in the morning. Tomorrow evening, I’ll sit through a welcome dinner, pretending to be interested in all of them. This will be my life for two weeks. It already feels like a living hell.
“You’re doing it again,” she singsongs.
“Doing what?”
“Disappearing.” She sets down her brush and crosses her arms. “You’ve been somewhere else since you walked in, and it’s making it impossible to paint you.”
“I’m right here.”
“Your body is here. The rest of you is three kingdoms away. Take your mask off, Louis.” She tilts her head.
I could tell her everything. I could break every rule.
