Alanna gave her a gentle look as she led her to a wooden seat next to the captain’s desk. “That ship has sailed, as it were,” Alanna said, throwing a massive, cheeky grin toward Val, “and I’m very glad.”
“Tor mentioned that you don’t want to be queen,” Nim added.
Damn. Matt had said that Nim was direct, but she hadn’t expected to get there quite so quickly.
She sank onto the hard chair, glancing helplessly around the room. Tristan had gone to stand beside Nim, one hand on her shoulder. Val sat next to Alanna, their hands entwined once more, and Tor had followed them in. But Matt had still not arrived. It was like being on trial with no friendly witnesses.
What could she say? That she’d been in prison her entire life, and that the idea of being queen had always felt like more of the same slow death? How could she admit that to these people, people who actually had been imprisoned?
Should she tell them that she’d spent hours every day since she’d learned the truth riddled with guilt for what her brother had done and was prepared to take on almost any burden to make it right, including the throne, if that would help?
Or should she admit that it was Dornar, who they all hated, who had convinced her that the kingdom would be torn apart unless she took the crown?
Should she tell them that she wanted Matt’s respect? That he had made her see that she could genuinely make a difference, that she could help the people of her kingdom to find the peace and prosperity that they deserved.
Or more personally, that something in her would die if he called her spoiled ever again. That she wanted him to look at her and see a strong woman, loyal to her people. A woman he could love enough to stay with.
She didn’t want to explain all of that, but neither did she want to lie to these people. Her family owed them too much. She personally owed them too much.
She took a deep breath and told them the truth, or a part of it anyway. “I think I’ve begun to understand why the kingdom needs me. And I want to do the right thing. But I’m afraid.”
The room was silent for a moment, until Nim asked, “What of?”
Gods. Part of her wished she’d never opened her mouth, but she had, and she would finish. “At first, I was afraid of never living. Of having other people direct my entire life until I die. Now, I realize how much is at stake, and I want to help. But I don’t want to get it all wrong. I don’t want to be the”—damn, she’d nearly said spoiled; she cast around for a better word—“the naïve princess everyone takes advantage of, or who makes mistakes just because she doesn’t know any better.”
Too stubborn. Too argumentative. Too unladylike. Too useless. And more recently she’d been forced to add too spoiled, too naïve, too unaware. How could she ever do what they were asking for?
She sighed, and quietly admitted the fear that had dogged her ever since her escape from the tavern. “I don’t know enough of this world. I’ve made mistakes....” Trusting Cerdic and Dornar. Not trusting Mathos. Calling him a beast. Not even knowing that her kingdom was on the brink of another war. “I’m terrified of making that kind of mistake again. Making bad choices that could get people killed.”
Lucilla looked down. She could feel her heart thumping heavily against her ribs, her mouth so dry she’d struggled to get the words out. She felt completely exposed, and she didn’t want to see their disapproval.
“Yeah, I get that,” Nim said quietly beside her.
“Me too,” Alanna agreed.
She lifted her head to stare at them. “Really?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” Nim asked.
“Well, Tor and Matt, they said… they….” She let her sentence fade. They had made it sound like Nim and Alanna were brave and strong and perfect. So different from her. Only one person, Matt, had ever thought anything genuinely good about her, and even he had disliked her when they first met.
Tristan and Val turned their formidable scowls on Tor, who scratched his chin guiltily. But Nim rolled her eyes and laughed. “Don’t listen to them. What do they know?”
“Agreed.” Alanna folded her arms and scowled, her expression a perfect mirror of Val’s beside her. “They’ve done whatever they wanted for their whole lives. All of them have. They don’t know what it is to have other people making all your decisions and taking away your choices.”
Tristan merely grunted, but Val’s frown deepened as he spoke. “I was in the army, sweetheart. I did exactly what I was told every day of my life.”
Nim elbowed her brother in the side. “You don’t get it, Val. You chose to go into the army in the first place, and you could have left if you’d really wanted. I was never given a choice. You decided to become a soldier and off you went, while I stayed home and cared for Papa. Don’t you think I might have wanted to do other things with my life? You never even asked me.”
She looked over toward Alanna. “How many choices was Lanni given about where she had to go and what she had to do?”
Val’s look got even darker as he turned to his wife. “You don’t feel that now, do you? Gods. That you don’t have choices?”
Alanna kissed him gently on his cheek, running her fingers down his forehead until his face softened. “No, of course not. But that’s the whole point.”
Alanna faced Lucilla with a smile. “This is what I learned when I was almost the queen: make your own choices and own them. Whatever you decide, be the person who you want to be. If you decide to take the throne, then you can be the kind of queen you want to be. Or choose to walk away. But either way, don’t let anyone else take that power from you.”
Nim nodded slowly. “And most importantly, you don’t have to do this alone. Choose the people you want around you. I understand why you’re worried, especially after spending time with Dornar, but that man is truly not right. There’s something broken inside him.” Her face was deadly serious as she admitted, “I was terrified of Grendel, but I’m even more frightened of Dornar.”
