Fed up with being able to only hear half of what they’re saying, I stand up and step out from around the rose bush. “Tell me what?”
But when I see Cordon and Serena’s clasped hands, the meaning of their words becomes all too clear. Small details click into place: the growing distance between Cordon and me, his insistence that Serena has changed. . . .
I am a blind fool.
The shock in their faces mirrors my own. “You two? You’re . . . together? How long?” I sputter at them.
Cordon jumps up. “Not long, Elara. And I wanted to tell you—Serena told me from the beginning I needed to say something.”
Serena rises and nods. “Yes, Elara. I was unkind to you when we were children, and I’m sorry for that. But I swear I—”
“Do you love her?” I ask Cordon, ignoring Serena.
Cordon grabs my hand, his eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry, Elara. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but . . .” He says a bunch of words, of how they ran into each other one day and suddenly things between them were just . . . different.
“But . . . I thought you loved me?” My words come out plaintive, and I hate myself for it.
“When we were children, I did love you. As much as you’ll let anyone love you. But sometimes I’m not sure I even know you, Elara. I need someone who will tell me how she really feels, someone who will let me in. Someone who will let me love her.”
I nod blindly because I understand. I am not like other girls. I am broken. I am not normal.
“But I still remember the promise I made to you,” Cordon is saying. “And Serena and I have been trying to figure out a way to—”
“What?” His words rip me out of my reverie. “You told her? You told her of your promise?” I look at Serena. She does nothing to hide the pity in her eyes. How pathetic I must seem to her. All this time while I’ve wondered why Cordon hasn’t asked me to marry him, they’ve been meeting secretly and discussing me. As though I’m a problem the two of them have to solve.
“Once we’re married, you can come live with us,” Serena says. “You don’t have to stay with my parents. I know my mother can be—”
“I would never be your maid,” I hiss at her.
Cordon pales. “That’s not what she meant.” He looks at Serena. “Right?”
Serena pauses before she nods. “Right.”
“Not as our maid,” Cordon continues. “You could be—well, I don’t know what, exactly, but not our maid.”
“How kind of you,” I say.
A thousand knives stab at my heart, and I envision the pain as a small, ugly box—one that I crush with a mallet. Then I imagine stuffing the broken box somewhere deep within me where I won’t have to feel it.
Tears are prickling my eyes. But I refuse to let them see. “I hope you’ll be very happy together.” I manage to choke out the words.
And then I run.
CHAPTER 11
WILHA
Guards flank either side of my family and the ten Guardians as we travel the narrow underground tunnel which connects the Opal Palace to the Galandrian Courthouse in Eleanor Square. The palace is full of such passageways. Centuries ago my ancestors decided it would be safer for royalty to travel secretly underground and they built several tunnels connecting the palace to key sites in Allegria.
Lit torches line the passageway, casting dim shadows on the stone walls, and I shudder at thinking of all the stone and packed earth above us.
Lord Murcendor falls back at my side and puts an arm on my shoulder. “Just a few more minutes, and we will reach the courthouse. Remember, the guards will enter first, then the Guardians, then Andrei, and then you and your father.”
“Why does Wilha get to enter last with Father?” comes my brother’s petulant voice from behind. “I am the future king of Galandria, not her.” I glance backward and see Andrei’s mouth pursed in displeasure.
My father either does not hear Andrei or chooses to ignore him. He is laughing and jesting with Lord Quinlan while Lord Royce walks quietly behind them. Besides a good feast, my father loves nothing more than a grand entrance and a captive audience.
“Hush, Master Andrei.” Lord Murcendor drops farther back, drawing even with Andrei. “Your father has an important speech to deliver and Princess Wilha is needed. When you are king of Galandria, you can make your own decisions.”
Lord Murcendor, who has taken it upon himself to pay Andrei the attention my father does not, is the one person my brother listens to. Andrei quiets down and says, “Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t apologize,” Lord Murcendor answers. “Royalty should never apologize.” He drops his voice and says something else, and Andrei whispers in return.
Patric, who has been walking at my other side this whole time, takes the opportunity to whisper, “What does he mean by that, that you are needed in the king’s speech?” He glances around. “Apart from your father, everyone seems unusually grave. We are announcing a peace treaty, after all.”
I smile faintly. “A treaty with your enemy is not always cause for celebration.”
Now I wish I had told Patric the terms of the treaty. Because this moment will be the one that punctuates all the others, dividing our time together into the before and the after.
“Whatever happens,” I whisper to him, “know that these last few months have been the best of my life.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” he says. But thankfully, Lord Murcendor falls back into step with me, preventing us from speaking further.
When our procession reaches a dead end, a guard holds up his torch and inspects the stone wall. My ancestors marked the entrance and exit to each passageway by a small opal inlaid in the wall. The tunnels, and the methods of opening them, are known only to my family, the Guardians, and a select number of the palace guards.
“Here it is,” he mutters and presses on the opal. The wall slides back, sending a wave of fresh air into the passageway, and my anxiety recedes slightly as I step into a small hallway in the Galandrian Courthouse.
The guards extinguish their torches and we silently walk up the hallway and to the double doors that open out to Eleanor Square.
The Clock Tower starts to toll and somewhere outside the royal trumpeters begin to play. When they finish, a guard addresses my father. “Your Majesty, it’s time.”
The doors open out to Eleanor Square and sunlight falls upon our faces. With one last glance at Patric, I step outside.
CHAPTER 12
ELARA
My satchel slams against my hip as I flee, and I hear Cordon running after me, calling my name. I push through the crowd and pass Gunther, the man from the orphanage, who is heading toward the inn.
“Elara!” he calls out. “I must speak with you.”
“Not now!” I shout back.
Behind me, Cordon continues to call after me and I let myself get carried along by the crowd into Eleanor Square. Rose petals fall from the rooftops, and palace guards are stationed along the edge of the square. Trumpets begin to sound and I steal a glance backward. Cordon is scanning the crowd, still looking for me. I elbow my way toward the courthouse, hoping to put as much distance between us as possible. I’ll hide in the crowd while the king gives his speech and slip away afterward.
With a final ringing crescendo, the trumpets cease and the doors to the courthouse open. Soldiers file out and surround the steps. The Guardians come next, clad in emerald green robes. I pay them little mind, though, as we all wait to see the royal family. Crown Prince Andrei comes out next, followed by King Fennrick, who wears an ornate crown bristling with opals atop his head. And finally, Princess Wilhamina emerges from the courthouse.