“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” I say, rolling my lips together, weighing my words like stones for those that will make the smallest ripples, “but I did not complete my request.”
The king crosses his arms over his broad chest, the leather of his armored coat creaking at the folds. “There was no need, Princess. You already have my answer.”
My lips part at this. Behind me, water from the broken vase plinks onto the floor.
Plink, plink.
“Is there anything else?” he asks.
I shake myself. Of course there is.
“Yes,” I say. I lace my hands in front of me in the very picture of calm. “Though you have clearly considered the matter, I would be most grateful, Your Majesty, if I could make my request fully known.”
This prompts a slight narrowing of his eyes, not out of anger, but confusion.
“If you must,” he says, as if pondering some complex riddle. I take a deep, steadying breath.
“I am requesting to tour the palace,” I say. Better to start small. “If there are concerns regarding my safety, surely a guard can accompany me.”
The king says nothing.
Perhaps he’s worried I’ll make a run for it, a ridiculous notion, but all the same I add, “I will not leave the grounds. You have my word.”
He offers no reaction. My cheeks warm as I wait.
Plink, plink.
“Is that all?” he says after several seconds of silence.
“Yes. I simply wish to see the palace. Perhaps meet some of the staff. I would particularly like to thank the cooks for the…elaborate breakfast.”
His eye twitches.
“No,” he says.
“No to thanking the cooks?”
“To all of it.”
This time, my mouth falls open; I can’t help it. Never in my life have I been told I can’t go somewhere if I please. There were engagements to be kept, of course. Expectations to be met. Crops to be planted and prayed over in hopes the next typhoon wouldn’t wash them away. But my free time was my own. I wandered, I roamed, I chased the sun in my little canoe.
He cannot keep me in this room. Already, I feel a cold sweat creeping over me.
“I am a princess of Vasna,” I say, alarm making my voice climb.
“Indeed you are—”
Plink, plink.
“—and I am your king,” he says. “Here,my word stands.”
Plink, plink, plink. I close my eyes and try to shut out the sound. One should never draw water when angry.
“I will go mad,” I say.
“From staying in your room?” He sounds thoroughly unimpressed.
“From being kept here like a prisoner.”
