“I didn’t know you were interested in politics.”
My face heated. “I’m not. I simply like knowing what’s being done for us.”
She frowned. “Why, I’m sure everything possible is being done for us, Lyra.”
I was tempted to snort at her naïveté, but I restrained myself. It wasn’t Ella’s fault she didn’t understand my distrust of the upper classes, nor was it something I wanted to passon to her. Not when her forbidden friendship with the prince had introduced a spark in her eyes I’d never seen before.
“My Papa…” I began, my voice wavering.
Ella stilled.
“He used to make me read all these old philosophical tomes to him. About the monarchy, the class divide, that sort of thing. It seems a few of those ideas still rattle around in my mind from time to time.”
She perked up. “You ought to speak to Teddy about them!”
I snorted. “No thanks.”
“Why not?”
I shook my head in answer.
She waited.
“Thank you.” I placed a hand on her arm and met her eyes. “Truly. But I am not interested in conversing with princes. Keeping to my own is probably for the best.”
“Seems a fine way to live with blinders on.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You never used to talk like that.”
I bristled. “What do you mean?”
She hesitated. “Ever since you met David, you’ve become so cynical. I just miss the old you sometimes.”
“You always blame David.”
She remained silent. Annoyance built in my chest.
“I appreciate your concern,” I said.
“I simply think you could be more than you allow yourself to be,” she said.
You’re made for more, Lyranore.
“You’re one to talk,” I spat. “You who never share about your own troubles.”
She flinched. “I have no troubles.”
“You hide your problems by always picking apart mine.”
“That’s not…”
Anger burned with each word I spoke. “I’m courting the wrong man. I’m not developing my magic enough. I’m saying the wrong things.” My nostrils flared. “It’s exhausting trying to live up to your expectations, Ella.”
“Lyra.” The pain in her voice made the fire within me dim. I met her gaze and found regret and hurt staring back at me. My eyes fell to the bruises peeking beyond her collar, the ones she never let me ask about, although I knew they came from home.
I flexed my fingers, looking away. “I’m sorry.”
