20. Princess Erralee

twenty

"I told you they'd love you." Jon's smile grew, overflowing with pride. I was getting used to his new chin sprout of facial hair. I wouldn't say it was better than his clean-shaven look. Different. It did make his face appear extra elongated, and he tended to look quite crescent moon shaped to begin with. I was okay with it though. Getting used to it. Mostly.

I took slow, intentional strides out of the motorcade car, until Jon wrapped an arm around me, pulling me to his side. One thing about him, he always looked for a way to show his affection in gentlemanly ways. It was sweet. I was getting used to that too. We paused, waving at the sprawling—and still growing—crowd of people cheering outside the palace. It was really endearing. Some people had signs held high over their heads that said, "Welcome" and "We love you!" It was heartwarming to see how many families had brought all their perfectly dressed children out, even on a school day.

This was a huge event for this country as they hadn't had a queen since King Aswell took the throne twenty years ago. Frankly, sometimes I wondered about that, and why he stayed single so long. I hadn't yet found anything grossly alarming about him, other than he'd spend an inhuman amount of time reading. As in locked in a room for days, unless I requested to see him. He was always good about taking my requests, and I never doubted I was his first priority.

I was adjusting to this new life. Already tired of waving, I switched hands. I had fans at home, but not like this. "We just pulled up. How'd they even know I'd be here?"

"The engagement announcement your father released last week alerted the media. We've had press vans swarming the palace ever since."

We moved together, intentionally pacing slower toward the grand palace entrance. This was my first time seeing my new home. It was a commanding structure with thick gray walls, reminding me more of a fortress than the palace I was used to. The windows were tiny, square holes without one balcony in sight. If I had been approaching this building alone, I actually would have been fearful of what was inside. It was so dark and devoid of anything green or alive. Today, my stomach didn't even churn as we crossed the stone walkway adorned with large gargoyles on each side. I had no jitters, as those had seemed to run out days ago. Maybe the stillness inside me was what happened when you finally grew up and left fairytales behind.

I felt nothing.

I saw the nothingness as God's gift. The stillness I needed to fulfill my mission.

Some days I still wondered why this was my mission when I didn't seem well suited for it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder why my mission couldn't have been easy, boring and common. A life of common routine.

Other days I tease the fantasy that I never got stuck in a snowstorm. I made my way to America, never having spent that time with Reeves. I never heard about my father's condition, and I was happy working a nine to five. Perhaps I'd have a crush on a barista, or wine boy, who I enjoyed flirting with in the mornings on my way to work. Or maybe . . . I'd have gone to an American university to study plants. That's an option I hardly considered, but I didn't doubt it would have brought me joy.

Life had so many options.

Only one mission.

We waved until we passed the final set of guards and entered the palace. The foyer opened up into more matte stone walls and floors, without a tapestry in sight to soften the echo. "Welcome home." Jon's beady eyes were soft as he pressed a kiss to my hand, and squeezed my palm in a light caress. "I figured you would be tired tonight, so I didn't plan anything. Just dinner whenever you're ready. Tomorrow, I have a homecoming celebration with everyone you need to meet for the big wedding. It's going to be sensational."

My eyelids drifted down. I was finally here, after weeks of preparing, I felt as if fate was boxing me in. I blinked momentarily, losing focus. "Ah, whatever you feel is best."

He ran his bare knuckle across my forehead and trailed it down my cheek. It took every ounce of my strength not to pull away. "You look tired. Maybe rest before dinner." His gaze skirted behind him, and for the first time I noticed a few staff members waiting in the shadows. A stout woman with a maid's apron, stepped forward, and Jon dutifully directed orders to her. "Mavis, will you take Princess Erralee to her suite and help her settle."

"Yes, Your Excellency." She bowed on her approach. "It's right this way, my lady."

I slipped one foot in front of the other, following her down the long, narrow corridor, until we reached a center door that stuck out as the only white door in the palace. "You'll love your new suite. King Aswell had it prepared just for you." Mavis smiled as if she was holding a secret when she turned the knob, letting me in.

My lips fell agape, while a sweeping breath of fresh air washed through me. All I saw was bright light and clean white. A large four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, dressed in the most beautiful white linen. Vases of fresh lilacs sat on both nightstands perfuming the air with their sweetness. I wasn't expecting something as pleasant as this, especially after seeing the outside of the palace. This was indeed a sanctuary and best of all . . . there was a large balcony in the corner. I started to make my way to the terrace, but Mavis made a sound that sounded like a hiccup. "Oops, I almost forgot." She pulled out an envelope from her apron and presented it to me. "A card arrived for you yesterday."

My brows pinned together in confusion as I hadn't forwarded any mail here yet, but I received the letter. Before I could ask for privacy, Mavis backed out of the room, calling on her way out, "Just ring the bell if you need anything, my lady."

I didn't immediately recognize the handwriting on the letter, but a quiver ignited in my chest. I'd had my share of congratulations since my engagement went public, and this wasn't the first card I'd received. Still, something about the tiny, boxy scribbles on the front told me this was a different kind of letter.

Careful not to tear it, I ripped the corner first and pulled out a plain card with a fairy dancing on mushrooms on the front. My lips curled for the first genuine time in weeks, and a tear instantly sparked in my eye.

Princess, or dare I say, Queen Erralee:

I was given my discharge orders last night, and although it made no sense to me how I would be relieved of my duties so soon, I knew your hand was on this. The announcement was made this morning to my whole company that we'd all be returning home. . . the opposition pulled out. The war was over.

Obviously, I signed up for this, but as most soldiers do, we quickly find out it's a nightmare we want to end as soon as possible. Everyone here is rejoicing, but I'm sitting here with a heavy heart knowing the sacrifice you made, and wanting to make sure that you understand how brave you are, and your entire country thanks you. My mother will thank you.

I won't return to the palace as you are no longer there. I actually think I might try my luck farming as Reeves offered me a position as his hand.

Forever your guard, Weston

With shaking hands, I let the letter fall to my lap. Weston returning alive was a silver lining that I had hoped for, and one giant blessing I didn't deserve. I'd hold onto in the coming years, as I desperately tried not to become bitter.

Life has done an excellent job of teaching me the value of detachment.

I'd learned to value the present, while not mourning my past.

Nothing was ever permanently yours.

What ebbed, eventually flowed.

What God giveth, he could rightfully taketh

Today, I was so joyful he didn't take Weston.

Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and everything became worth it. I balled my hand into a fist and covered my heart. Thank you, Lord, for saving Weston.

The long hall echoed with emptiness as I found my way to the dining room. My eyes instinctively looked for a window to gaze out, but there was nothing but unending walls, reminding me of a cave. Mavis had said she'd return for me, but when she didn't show up, I figured I'd find my way. Without the chatter of other people to guide my steps, I was hesitant that I was even going in the right direction. I'd never spent time in a home this quiet.

"My dear," Jon's voice pulled from beside me.

I shifted my gaze into an adjacent room where Jon sat looking at me from the head of a long stone table. I slid one foot in front of the other, taking in the hollowness of the room, as it too was devoid of natural light, with a few tall candlesticks glowing in the center. The only other chair was at the opposite end of the table. It was so far away I couldn't imagine having pleasant dinner conversations, because it seemed I'd have to shout. My pulse screamed, begging me to stop this charade. It wasn't too late to go home. I ignored the warning. Weston was safe. That was enough. I sank into my seat. That too was stone, without so much as a thin padding.

"Did you have a nice rest?" Jon's voice rose all the way to the cathedral ceiling, and I fought wincing at how uncomfortable this setup was.

"I did." I found my glass of water, already poured for me, and I took a tiny sip. The silence was deafening, grating at my ears. Shouting across this table wasn't ideal, but it was better than the stillness. I swallowed, mustering up small talk. "It's very calm here."

His eyes glistened back at me, as if he was recalling his fond memory. "I love peace. It helps keep my nerves down, like a sanctuary."

More like an asylum.

A staff member padded in through the swinging back door, bringing us our food. I offered her a genuine smile, but she avoided my gaze and left as quietly as she had arrived. I blew out a soft breath, examining my plate. It looked delicious, chicken in some sort of sweet sauce, with rice. I took the tip of my fork and dabbed it into the sauce for a sample. Raspberry with a bit of heat, and it was delicious, but I didn't cut a bite. My stomach had been much too sensitive to take large chunks of food. Jon leaned over his plate, digging in, and I felt envious of his ability to take pleasure in this meal.

Was I ever going to feel pleasure again?

My eyes dampened as my heart deflated. I had gotten what I wanted. The war was over. My father was better. He even gave up his nightly scotch in dedication to regaining his health. Weston was alive!

Everything was perfect.

But it wasn't.

I never wanted this royal position. Yes, it was an honor, but I wasn't someone who was into the fanfare. I would gladly give up all this too, if it meant I could just go home. I blinked back tears as Jon's voice cut through the air. "Is something wrong with your food?"

"No, it's lovely." I cleared my throat, hating my heart for not going along with these lies the way my head did. It was going to have to learn to be okay. It will get better. It had to. This was only day one, and I had a whole future to think about. I blew out another even breath.

Just think positively about the future.

"Is there anything you need to be more comfortable?" His voice lowered, pacing consciously.

"No, thank you." I bit down on my lip, screaming at myself to stop making this awkward. This was my new home. Relax. "I'm very comfortable," I added before I tacked on, "just noticing how quiet it is here. Do you ever entertain friends?"

His lips tightened into a thin line while he shook his head. "No, not usually."

My gaze wearily floated down, as my mind begged for the silver lining. The war is over. I breathed deeply. I was fine the whole time, but reading Weston's letter had somehow opened up my eyes to see that life was going on outside these stone walls, and once again, I was in agony. It was too quiet here. I knew I'd be alone with Jon, but I hadn't anticipated being this alone. It's only day one, I breathed. Someday this house will be filled with joyous giggles of small children, and I could laugh reminiscently about how quiet it used to be. Then I'd at least have a cute little family to fill my heart.

"Are you sure everything is okay, dear?" Jon's voice treaded delicately, his eyes glued to me.

Lacing my hands together in my lap, I forced a positive conversation, "I was thinking about how lovely it will be when the halls are filled with kids' voices and giggles—" My voice dropped when his expression soured. He sputtered out a deep cough. I hadn't spent an abundance of time with him, but every time I'd ever seen him, he had a pleased-to-see-you smile on his face for me.

"Are you okay?" I was the one who was now concerned.

He balled his hand into a fist, pounding it on his chest a few times as he released more coughs. "Yes, I wasn't expecting you to say that."

"Say what?" I stiffened, afraid I had done something wrong.

"Lots of kids giggling." He chuckled as if he knew he was the last person to solve a punchline. "For a second I thought you were serious."

My lips parted, but no words came out. He was the one who had insisted from the beginning on having an heir. Why would this bother him now? My tiny heart which had been fighting so hard to be strong, cinched together, wringing out the last speck of hope I had been holding onto. Without a family of my own, I'd be stuck in these stone walls withering away. I'd have nothing to look forward to anymore.

His eyes hovered over mine, studious as if he was trying to find the placement of a puzzle piece. After a beat, he tilted his head a measure toward me and said softly, "You can't be serious. I'm almost fifty. I only want one child, a boy. He'll be strong and smart. We'll send him to boarding school because I really don't care to be bothered with the little kid stages."

I held my breath, waiting for my heart to pound harder into the heartbreak, but it stilled. It was as hushed as the walls around me. It had returned to its stillness. A reverie lingered with Jon's eyes still locked on me, widening as if he was getting sickened by something. "Erralee," he repeated firmly. "You're joking about the big family, right?"

Slowly I raised my chin and brought it back down. "Yes, of course I was." A mirage of Reeves flashed in front of my face, telling me that family had to be the best part of life. Why did I have to learn that detail about Reeves? It's like my brain held onto the memory just to taunt me that there was yet another thing that I didn't have in common with my fiancé, but one more thing that lined up perfectly with Reeves.

Reeves was not in my mission.

The following day, Mavis was in my room most of the day, preparing me for the homecoming celebration tonight. "Boy, whoever took your measurements needs glasses." Mavis tugged at the zipper of my gown, doing her best to cinch it tight, but the gown nearly slipped right off me, even once it was fully zipped. "Have you lost weight?"

I stared forward into the full-length mirror, gazing at my body. I hadn't noticed physical changes, but now that she'd pointed it out, I did look quite skinny. My collar bone protruded, and my high cheekbones looked incredibly gaunt. "Maybe." I offered a light toss of the shoulder.

"I will get my sewing kit and add a few stitches, or this gown will never stay up." She took a step back and motioned to the chair. "You look quite frail. Why don't you sit until I get back."

I pivoted slightly, my eyes fleeing to the balcony where I could hear the wild birds sing. I reached my hand to finger the dangling pendant on my choker as I recalled Weston's note to me. It didn't seem like an accident that his warning to remain true to my feral-bird self, rang so clearly right now. Shuddering, I tried to shake the image, but I had never felt more like a caged bird in my life, living in these fortress-like walls. My airway tightened with the need to see outside now more than ever. "I'm going to step outside for some air."

"Very well." Mavis stepped forward to finally leave me in my own privacy. "I'll be right back."

I took several heavy steps, each one drawing more strength from my core than the last, and before I could stop it, my knees buckled, and my mind went blank.

Moments later, Jon's voice boomed from somewhere in the room, announcing his arrival. "What happened?" His normal speaking tone carried the weight of his strength, but the way his words rumbled out this time, I felt them all the way into my bones.

"She's passed out," Mavis's voice wafted from somewhere above me.

A set of strong arms cradled me, lifting me up and placing me on my bed's soft surface. "Here's some smelling oil." Mavis's voice preceded pungent fumes of peppermint, and my lashes finally fluttered open.

My lips parted, but Jon quickly placed a finger on them. "Just rest." He shifted his gaze to Mavis. "She's pale as the linen. What has she eaten today?"

"I'm not sure. I had a tray delivered for lunch, but when I came back to retrieve it, it appeared she had only taken the tea."

Jon ran his hand over my forehead, and even though I had gotten used to the dryness of his broad palm, I didn't feel comfort. "She's very cold."

My vision was blurry, but I could see Mavis and Jon move around me, adding more blankets. "What's going on with this dress," Jon asked Mavis with obvious annoyance. "It's nearly hanging off her."

"That was worrisome to me too. She had her measurement taken for the dress only weeks ago, but it seems like she's lost a significant amount of weight."

I didn't enjoy the way they hovered over me, but I also didn't have the strength to insist I was fine. "Mavis, can you give us a moment. Perhaps call the doctor and bring her some fruit, or something else fresh." Jon's voice had turned soft and dithering, unlike any sound I'd heard. His gaze held onto her until the door was closed.

I didn't think it was possible for a face to be more concerned, but his lips descended another notch, and he looked me straight in the eye. "My dear, if I ask you what's wrong can you be honest with me?"

I forced a light shrug. "I must be tired."

"Of course, you're worn out. It looks like you haven't eaten in months. Your appearance has drastically changed since the first time I met you. Although I'm not complaining as you're still the most beautiful woman to me, I would be a fool to believe that you aren't suffering. It would behoove you to just be honest with me now. Are you heartsick about something?"

A small quiver shook my chest at the thought that he might be unhappy with this arrangement. I'd been doing everything I could to convince him—and myself—that this marriage was going to be fine, better than fine. Amazing. "I think it's the excitement of the wedding and all. Once it's all settled, I'm sure I'll feel stronger." As if to prove my point, I pressed my palms into the mattress and forced myself to a seated position.

The deep lines of his forehead creased all the way to his hairline. "I know you've been under stress, but I can't pretend I don't see what's happening."

My lips parted, but I didn't interrupt. His hand gently grabbed mine, and he brought it to his lips the way he always did, dropping a kiss on each finger and continued holding my hand in his. His gaze hovered on my hand for the longest moment, and he raised the most heart-stopping question. "Would you argue with me if I let you go?"

My eyes brimmed wide, and I rushed to stutter, "W-what do you mean?"

"If I said that I cared about you too much to watch you lose yourself in our marriage. I am willing to let you go, would you refuse?"

His words were lightning that shot adrenaline into my chest. "What—"

He cut me off, his words were so smooth and comforting, I knew he was genuine. "That war needed to end. I'm glad it's over and that I was able to help, but maybe our agreement can be sorted out another way. What do you think?" A worried brow pinched between his eyes as he regarded my face as if he was peeling away my secrets.

I couldn't reply. A yes would mean I lied to him, and a no would mean I was still lying. That slight quiver in my chest took it upon itself to swell four times bigger and rumbled around as if it had sprouted wings and was about to take flight. Being put on the spot like this wasn't fair.

I had done what was asked of me!

He lightly squeezed my hand, pressing, "There is something that's bothering you. I can't see what it is, but I have watched the spark in your eyes dwindle more each day, and I'm not going to lie to myself and say you are okay. So, if I'm not going to lie, I expect you not to lie."

I inhaled, trying to frame all my words in perfect context. I couldn't hint that I was ungrateful because he had done so much good. He had to know I tried. I didn't go into this unwillingly. I tried and I prayed, and I begged for this to work. No matter how hard I argued with my heart to believe this is what I wanted, my heart was just not hearing it.

There's no respectable way to tell someone you can't love them the way they love you.

This should have been stopped so much earlier, back when I was repulsed by him. It would have been so much easier then. Now, I'd seen what an honest man he was, and it made this so much harder, but he didn't deserve a wife who didn't love him. He deserved someone who loved him for . . . him. Tears welled in my eyes, as I connected my thoughts that brought me back to Reeves. My thoughts always brought me back to Reeves, and that simple plea he had for me. Wait for someone who loves you for you. Easier said than done. How long can people wait?

As I looked back at Jon, my gaze settled on fine gray strands of hair blended into his beard. They didn't make him unattractive, but told the truth of his age. Suddenly, I had a new thought. Jon was older, alone most of his life. He settled for me.

I licked my lips, bringing agility back to them, and sat up straighter. "Why did you pick me?"

Without even a flinch, he spoke in an even voice, "Dear, I've told you before, I was enamored with your spirit."

"You have told me that, but it's never really made sense to me."

"What is this about?" His gaze shifted around the room, as if he was looking for something to help clear up his confusion. "Do you not believe I'm sincere?"

"You are sincere." My voice was growing stronger as I saw so clearly where everything had gone wrong. This wasn't about the war, or Father, or even me. Something had gone wrong with him, not believing he could wait for the perfect person. He had to know I didn't love him the way he wanted. I never returned his kisses, and returned to my suite as soon as dinner was over, never requesting an extra moment with him. He's not stupid. "I'm going to be honest with you, and please don't pretend to be shocked, but we both know Ruenella was the better fit for you. She's quiet, and loves to read, dress up, and have fancy dinners. She's nothing like me, but everything like you. Why not her?"

"I've met plenty of Runellas in my life." He shook his head, physically rejecting the suggestions. "There's nothing wrong with them. Beautiful. Elegant. A bit of a romantic spirit." His gaze lowered to his hand still holding mine. His grip remained tender, not stiffening the slightest. "But that is where the issue lies. She yearns for romantic love. The kind filled with flowers, and all the things of novels. Often, that love is selfish." His eyes found mine, and were unwavering as he went on, "I could see right through you. You couldn't be fooled into that. Romantic love is not your thing. You are that rare person who is capable of unselfish love."

My brows beaded together, as I was deeply suspicious of his explanation. This was completely new to me. "How do you know that?"

He raised a brow up, deepening the lines on his forehead. "You didn't place conditions on anything. You gave up your life in your own country, to save your country." He held up a finger. "That's the truest love. If you have that, a couple can survive anything because the romantic love will die, and without the sacrificial love to take over, the bond of the couple will die as well."

He lifted my hand again, but this time my knuckle was shaking. He dropped one more kiss, letting his lips linger longer than usual before he placed my hand on my lap. "I'm not the monster you think I am. Perhaps in another lifetime, you could have loved me. But I can see this isn't about me. You are heartsick about someone." He blinked. He never deliberately blinks or fidgets when he speaks, but he blinked, and pulled up a tear. He'd always been affectionate with me, but never outwardly emotional. The tear had that knot lodged back in my throat so fast, I was gasping for air, and blinking back my own tears.

He took one step back, away from my bed, and whispered, "I love you enough to let you go."