“Speak,” I say. “I will not be angry.”
Not at him, anyway. His attire marks him as a simple errand boy; whatever message he brings won’t be urgent, but the sender anticipated my frustration at the very least. Hence, the boy to bear the brunt, poor lad.
“Your Majesty,” the boy says, flopping into a second bow. It’s like he lost all his bones on the way. “I was sent…the princess…”
I stiffen. “What of the princess?”
Rally claps the boy on the back as he does some more sputtering. “Out with it.”
“She’s sending for pianos,” the boy says, “and, well, peacocks—”
“Peacocks?” I repeat.
He bobs his head. “Yes. Oiken sent me.”
My brows lower. “Oiken understands the princess is to be brought whatever she desires, yes?” My majordomo is not usually prone to error.
Somehow, the boy pales further. “Yes, yes of course, Your Majesty.” He glances back and forth, wringing his hands, wetting his lips. “It’s just that Oiken says the room can’t fit the camel Princess Serah requested, so he isn’t sure what to…” His voice dwindles away.
I allow myself a single exhalation before striding for the nearest stairwell with Rally tight on my heels.
22
My encounter with the king leaves me reeling. Reeling and outraged.
After he left, I retreated to my bedchamber and stormed about in a manner I haven’t since, well, ever, because I had no need to storm about before meeting a certain king.
How dare he make me lose control like that. And to simply watch as I siphoned those flowers dry instead of saying anything!
“Water drawing is a gift,”Mother would say,“but an undisciplined drawer is dangerous.”
I have trained hard not to be dangerous. If the king knew what such a gift is capable of…
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. I all but yelled the peril at him.
That’s the greater source of my anger—that I revealed too much, that the control lost was my own doing, not his.
That, and the ridiculous way heat soars to my cheeks when I think of him lifting my chin. I’ve not even been here a full day. Doesn’t he know it’s improper for him to touch me as if I’m already his?
“Wholly unacceptable,” I mutter.
My pacing has slowed, and I move fast to correct that. Better to be angry than dwell on impropriety.
Smoothing back my hair, I return my thoughts to the original offense. Does the king think because I am lesser royalty he can keep me in these rooms? I was prepared to sacrifice for my people, to marry a man donning horns and few feelings.
I was not prepared to be held hostage in my own rooms.
I throw myself onto the bed and lie there staring at the wall. A servant must have removed the king’s breakfast tray. The idea of people I don’t know coming and going unseen unsettles me a bit, though I know the practice is normal in large palaces. My sisters have said as much.
A long sigh of resignation slips out of me. I suppose I better call for a midday meal. Perhaps I should ask for something specific so I’m not brought another platter of chocolate. I hate to trouble the staff, though the king did say I need only ask for what I would like.
My mouth quirks. Perhaps I should ask that a banquet be brought just to make him regret his words. No, that won’t do. The parlor is stuffed with all the nonsense he sent earlier. The room can hardly fit another—
An idea springs forth and latches on with all the tenacity of a fishhook. It’s ridiculous, potentially petty, and has me grinning like a lunatic.
I’ve never been one to cause trouble, but thatwasbefore I met a certain dragon.
***
