6. Princess Erralee

six

Desperate to return to the tent, before Father noticed I was gone, I scurried toward the trumpets. The sun was blazing at that awkward evening angle where you can"t see anything, and I ran smack into Weston as soon as I hit the street. If I hadn't immediately recognized him by the locks of blond hair sticking out the side of his hat, I would have screamed in fright.

He always had that past-due haircut look. It wasn't proper for any military, but since he often went undercover in public, nobody made him cut it. Well, and because I preferred him this way. It"s how I always knew him, my childhood friend with a bit of an edge. He pushed every boundary, but not enough that he would get in trouble. It was his art, and he wasn't afraid of anything. That's why I felt so safe with him.

He waved me forward. "I'm happy to cover for you, but let me know where you're going." His tone was disapproving, but his mischievous grin said how he really felt. He was glad I was safe, and amused that I got away from him again. "One of these days you're going to get me fired if anyone notices I'm not with you."

"Sorry about that." I winced through nervous eyes. It hadn't dawned on me how long I was gone. I let out a deep breath, inducing my forced calm as I fell into stride with him en route to the tent. As much as Weston's presence calmed me, the task before me had my heart ripped open.

Dread settled within me. Father had been loving toward me my entire life. Sure, I wanted to make him proud, but this was a betrayal. He was fulfilling it in the most gruesome way. A public performance to lock me into this lie. He understood if I backed out after tonight, the entire country would blame me for the continuation of the war. I'd never be able to show my face again. There was no use talking to Father either, but . . .

Perhaps I can talk to King Aswell?

Before I found my father, I scoured the tent for King Aswell. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw him standing alone, away from Father. He was impeccably dressed in a long black velvet coat which nearly clung to the ground. It had rich gold piping all along the bottom edges, and I didn't doubt the gold was real. Though his skin was olive toned and his eyes only held dark hues, black really wasn't his best color. It set off an ominous vibe, and just like that, a giant shadow, the size of a tree, broad, powerful, and potent, encased my heart.

As if he was reading my mind, King Aswell's gaze fell on me, and he started pacing toward me. I held my breath. Please be more understanding than Father. A mere moment later, he was by my side with a furrowed brow. He dispensed with traditional greetings. "You are hesitant." His expression was not unkind, but it still didn't feel familiar.

Pushing my fingers into my temples, I paused to find the right words without offending him. "It's a lot of pressure," I finally managed while still afraid to look at him. "I would feel better if we could slow down, and go a more traditional route, getting to know each other before we made everything so public."

His breath was heavy, crackling in the air between us, aiding the feeling that the world was closing in on me. "That's understandable."

"What?" Used to my father's totalitarian ruling style, I wasn't expecting a sympathetic response. My heart hammered in my chest as I searched his face for help.

"I don't wish you to live your life afraid of me." His look of concern morphed into an appreciative grin. "I would love the chance to get to know you."

"Then why are we rushing—" I dropped my question because I had the answer. "My father wants to rush, right?"

"He's eager to end this war. I can't commit my country"s resources until we have a proper union. It's not fair to my country because this isn't our enemy." He lowered his gaze thoughtfully, parting his lips as if his words were waiting to come out. He is going to apply some ultimatum. When he finally did speak, he surprised me. "If you choose to marry me, my country would be very blessed to have you as their queen."

His words were sincere. As hard as I tried to want this—because it would solve everything—I had nothing but a feeling of doom pounding in my chest.

"Perhaps," he interrupted my thoughts, "I can talk to your father. I will suggest we wait a week. There's no reason why this announcement needs to be tonight. I'll delay my return home, and we can spend the week together if that would make you more comfortable."

I should have let out a breath of relief, but I didn't feel relieved. If anything, the chokehold that had been placed on me tightened up another notch. If my option was now or delaying this a week, neither choice was promising. After seven more days, I'd be right back to this moment again, trying to force myself into something I didn't want to do.

Unless spending time with him will help me to see him differently? It would be nice to end this war. Maybe I will feel better in a week? It would be worth trying.

"If that's an option you're okay with, I'd agree to wait another week." My voice was firm, reinforcing my decision to at least try to like him.

My gaze fled to my father's back. Before I could say anything more, King Aswell spoke again, "I'll tell him it was my idea." He offered a reassuring smile and left to join my father.

I couldn't sleep that night. Even though, I was panicked about King Aswell, my mind wandered to Reeves. I actually found myself smirking as I recalled the carefree way he had flung me around. It was a simple moment. It was something I had been missing out on. I'd never danced in a public place, or even been alone with a man. We weren't trying to put on a show for an audience or look royal as I'm forced to do at our palace balls. It was a slice of regular life. Something I hadn't ever experienced. I didn't have a plastic smile glued on my face to give the appearance I was having fun, but I genuinely enjoyed myself and laughed for real.

I had never been allowed to mingle with whomever I wanted. Weston was always standing way too close for anyone to approach me. If I hadn't snuck out when he was looking the other way, he wouldn't have allowed it.

How would it be if I could go about my day without always having to be a princess? Tears budding in the back of my eyes, leaving me curious. Would I be happy? Do I even know what happiness is?

I understood my privilege. I wasn't complaining as I had opportunities most people only dreamed about. Still, I enjoyed remembering that stolen dance on the street. It might be the most fun I'd had.

Ever.

That was really sad.

My lips turned down as I realized my entire life was actually depressing. I was like the caged bird Weston wrote about, and Father was my ruler.

The night skies morphed into early dawn, and sleep evaded me. By morning, I laid in bed, groggy and forlorn. Growing more bitter with each passing hour.

"Erralee," Ruenella's voice sang from the other side of my bedroom door.

"Come in." I sat up, eyes barely landing on my door before it opened faster than I had anticipated for a lazy Saturday. Ruenella bounded in, her brightly painted lips beaming ear to ear. Her blonde curls piled on top of her head and cascaded down like never-ending silk waves. There wasn't a day she wasn't fully made up. She was always stunning, in contrast to me, who preferred to dress more plainly. Before I could greet her, she blurted out, "King Aswell is downstairs! Father is requesting that you come down at once."

"What?" I ran my hand over my hair, attempting to smooth it down. I had gone to bed with it still wet, because I liked how it left soft waves in my hair. Mother always preferred it to have texture, and if it wasn't wavey, she'd force Margarette on me with her curling iron and sprays.

Since I didn't sleep, but rather tossed all night, my plan to have soft curls backfired, leaving my hair ratted. It wasn't anywhere near Mother's standards. I flipped my blanket off me and darted to my closet, nervously scanning my dresses. Both my parents would insist I present with my best, but I wasn't ready for this! Isn't he supposed to call first?

I fanned through my day dresses, tossing most aside. Not because they weren't nice. I really had no idea what I was looking for. Cringing, I grabbed the last hanger and flung it to my bed."Did he say what he wanted?"

"King Aswell?" Ruenella's brow puckered, as if she had trouble understanding why I didn't know everything already. "He wants to see you."

"Well, isn't that nice of him to show up and assume I wanted to see him," I muttered sarcastically as I yanked the white sundress off the hanger.

"Come on," Ruenella's voice smoothly rolled out as she wistfully clasped her hands in front of her. "Don't you think it's sweet he's here? He's smitten with you."

I shot her a piercing look. "There is nothing about this arrangement that is sweet for me."

Ruenella's smile straightened. "I'll help you get dressed." She reached for my nightgown as soon as I slipped it over my head and hung it back up for me. By the time I had my dress on, she had already produced a brush and white velvet hair tie.

I sat at my vanity, and she quickly went to work, pulling my hair back into a long fishtail braid. "I don't know how you aren't excited about this," she gushed with a smile so large, you'd think all her dreams were coming true. "King Aswell is so handsome, and respected. You'll be queen and live on one of the most beautiful islands." She let out a dreamy sigh while she wrapped the velvet tie around the end of my braid.

"On one hand, it doesn't feel real." I stared at my reflection in my vanity mirror, wondering why he'd want to marry me when I had done nothing to win his affection. "On the other hand, it's not how I pictured my life." My lashes fluttered slightly, and I fought to still them. It took so much strength, all I had left for a voice was a whisper, "I always thought I would get to make my own choices about getting married, and where I would live."

Her smile faded into a quarter smile. "So, you're not scared. Just not excited?"

I avoided her question. Instead forcing credence into my declaration, "We've stepped back into the Stone Age with these backroom marriage deals."

As I studied my reflection, I saw a woman who had grown up comfortably. This was the first time I recalled ever being asked to do anything to help my father. I had always been provided for. Maybe I should have felt important, knowing the fate of a country resided entirely in my actions. That wasn't the case at all. I felt an abandonment of myself. I was giving up on finding happiness and true love. My mind rewound to Reeves; his voice echoed in my head, "Wait for true love . . ." Even though I'd never experienced love before, I was convinced love wasn't the main emotion I had for King Aswell.

I was also beginning to see Father as an obstacle to my own happiness. I loved him dearly, faults and all. I bit down into my bottom lip, remembering my childhood. He seemed always to pressure me to be someone I wasn't. My parents barely tolerated me spending all my time outside, and forever encouraged me to care about the arts, traveling and all things royal. I tried it all for them. I wanted so desperately to feel their affection, but even after all these things I'd done for them, it was never enough.

Now, they were literally expecting me to sign away my prospects of any future happiness, with no regards for what I wanted. But would that even be enough? What would I be forced into next while property of King Aswell? It could domino into one thing after the next. I would never be doing anything I wanted to do. Something must give. I highly suspected it wasn't going to be Father's pride. If I didn't stand up for myself sooner or later, it was never going to end. I blew out my frustrated breath as I slapped some fresh powder on my face. It was spotty and not blended even the slightest, but it would have to do. Maybe if I'm lucky my appearance might scare King Aswell away. I giggled, wishing so much my silly thoughts would come true.

"There she is!" Father extended an arm toward the grand staircase as both men observed my descent. Father wore his long-tailed red and gold coat, the one he normally reserved for formal military events. If this whole arrangement didn't already feel like a sham, his presentation made me ill. "Isn't she beautiful?" He trumpeted so loudly his voice echoed against the cathedral style ceilings.

I put on my best happy-to-be-here fake grin as I approached them. "Good morning." Before I could say anything else, Father ushered me forward, almost pushing me out of the door. "Come, Erralee. King Aswell has asked for your company. We don't want to keep him waiting. I have arranged for you two to go on a drive," he exclaimed with an enormous smile, but I knew that smile wasn't for me. If I had looked hard enough, I would have seen dollar signs on each corner of his lips. "You can show him our countryside while you get to know each other."

"I, ah." I held my chest in pause, as I wasn't ready to leave. I hadn't had breakfast, and everything was making me flustered. "What's the rush?"

"The driver is waiting." Father's hand found the small of my back and forcefully pushed me toward King Aswell, causing me to stumble forward. Being treated this way was humiliating, as if I were a puppet. Father was acting ridiculous. Seriously straight out of the ancient times!

"Perhaps we can stop for brunch?" King Aswell stepped forward, his eyes finding mine and softly pleading for understanding. Though he was dressed more casually today, without his royal cape, he was still in full black. Black still wasn't his color. His ominous vibe returned, and I felt as if a shadow fell over me. "Is there somewhere you'd like to eat?" His eyes paced over my face, studying me.

Father didn't like me to dine in town unless it was for his ratings. The only diner was a bit of a dive place, and it was "too common for people like us." With his recent actions, I was at the point where I didn't care anymore what Father wanted, or his forced etiquette. I'd walk down Main Street while hogging a pink hotdog with the mustard dripping off my chin. "That would be lovely," I replied loudly enough for Father to hear. "I'm quite hungry."

"Alright." Father clasped his hands in front of him, pointing toward the exit. "Have a nice time."

With Father's eyes locked on me, I didn't have anywhere to go but out the door. My foot was barely over the threshold when the door slammed behind us. I glanced back, doing my best to stay positive. I wasn't trying to be difficult, but I had nothing to say to King Aswell. This whole date was so awkward, and the only thing I could come up with was an apology. "I'm sorry if this looks extreme." I laced my fingers together, feeling the need to hold onto something. "My Father has never acted like this."

"Don't apologize. I have had many talks with him. I can assure you that I understand his position, and I don't fault you for it. He's under a great deal of stress. Which, I hope I can assist him with." He smiled at me in a way that was more genuine than anything, but I didn't want to see that. I didn't want to be the solution to anyone's problems other than my own. He motioned to the motorcade, waiting for us with my security car, and his car behind the royal cruiser.

I searched for Weston, panic seeding in my chest. If he was here, I'd at least have someone to secretly roll my eyes at. I found him sitting in the driver's seat of the cruiser, elbow out the open window, staring forward. He always found a way to be there for me. His gaze never wavered as we walked to the car, but he saw me. Always my protector, and I felt better as I climbed inside. Without being signaled, Weston started the car and drove forward.

"I brought a book I wanted to show you." King Aswell leaned forward and dug into a leather pouch. I hadn't even realized he'd had a bag with him. Then again, I was doing everything I could to avoid looking at him. It wasn't even his looks that I avoided, but it's as if every ounce of my soul was fighting to stop this, and since I had no control over where I was going, my only choice was where I laid my eyes. He pulled out a large picture book and slid it over to me.

"A book." I forced myself to grin. I didn't want to waste the effort to tell him I wasn't one of those people who liked to read.

"It's a collection of art by one of my friends. He has painted many of the landscapes in my home. I thought you might want to familiarize yourself with his style. If you would allow it, I would love for him to paint you someday."

I opened the cover and fanned through the first few pages. My governess had drilled art history into my core ever since I was a child. I was able to recognize the impressionist style, but I wasn't thrilled. "I don't know if painting portraits is something people do much anymore." I tried to sound as if I was contemplating more than looking for a way out of posing for a portrait. "Doesn't it make more sense to use a camera?"

"You don't like it?" His eyes traced my face, but he didn't sound disappointed. If anything, he seemed intrigued.

"Does it seem like a waste of time when a camera is more efficient? Not to mention all the different editing programs. You could have a picture that looks like it was painted, but in half of the time."

"But is it really the same?" He rubbed his chin before tacking on, "To me, art is half the process."

I shivered. Nothing he said, or did, brought goosebumps to dot my arm. The air was chilly. In the bustle of getting kicked out of my house, I hadn't had time to grab a coat. I wrapped my arms in front of me and wished for a warm coffee. "I could stop for that brunch you offered," I said, forcing a pleasant smile.

"Where would you like to go?" His salt and pepper brows snapped up to his hairline. "You know your little town best."

"The diner on Main Street is the only place there is." I leaned forward, speaking to Weston. "Do you think you can take us to the diner?"

He stole a glance at me in the rearview mirror. An amused spark in the corner of his eye caught my attention. Obviously, he could see how much I was forcing this. "I can call ahead, and we can pick it up and take you to the country for a picnic? That way you avoid making a public scene."

Even though this wasn't his date, sweet Weston understood what made me happy and tried to make this situation bearable. "I'd love—"

"A princess can't eat outside," King Aswell cut me off in answer to Weston. "The bugs are terrible this time of year."

I lowered my lashes, staring down at my feet. "You're right. What was I thinking?" I stifled a whimper while I internally begged for help. Is this really going to be my life? I have no voice.

"Perhaps, we can still order ahead, and take it to go," Weston rebutted with an eye on King Aswell in the rearview mirror. "Little towns are awfully gossipy, and you wouldn't get much time to chat."

King Aswell angled his chin sharply toward me and placed a hand over his mouth, concealing it as he spoke in a hushed voice. "Does your help always talk to you like they have a voice in what you do?"

"Oh, this is Weston." I waved my hand dismissively, fully understanding how this might not be seen as appropriate. "He's my personal guard and knows me well. He's just looking out for us." I motioned to the front seat, where Weston had appeared to slouch way down in his driver's seat. "I think it's a great idea to grab the food and eat it while we drive." Not as pleasant as a picnic, but a compromise I was willing to make to avoid a public scene.

King Aswell opened his mouth wide, but closed it before he spoke. Then he opened it again, saying, "Very well. If you insist, that"s what you want."

"It's just easier to have a private conversation, and since that's what we are trying to do . . . You know, get to know each other." I lifted one shoulder in pause, as tension pooled in my upper back. Why is this so hard?

"It's fine." He curtly nodded, then tacked on, "What would you like to talk about?"

"Well." I blew out a long breath, while I pulled up everything, I already knew about it, which wasn't much. We already discussed his boring books, and museums. He affirmed he doesn't like the outdoors . . . I pulled my lips to one side, digging deep for a topic, but the only thing that keep reeling back was the question of "why." Father would have said it was rude, but I wasn't afraid of Father, so I pressed, "I know I already asked you why you chose me. I'm still a little curious as to why you would even want to agree to a partnership with my father. Aside from gaining a wife. I'm sure you can easily find someone without having to extend your military. This war is brutal. Why are you even getting involved?"

He wasn't one to fidget. He sat straight. Kept his gaze fixed and spoke directly. "This war needs to end. It's been unfair from the start, as everyone knows your father never had the means to even come close to defending himself. It's an attempt at a totalitarian takeover. They want to control his land, and because your father is weak, they think they can take it. It's unjust. I'm not one to sit back and let unjust things just happen."

I had never heard an explanation of the war from any viewpoint other than my father's boastful side. Of course, my father never admitted he was weak. It was interesting to hear what others truly thought of him. Humbling.

I leaned to the side, shifting my weight as Weston sharply pulled the car over on the side of the road, parking. "We are here!" He announced, while pushing open his door. "Just wait one moment, and I'll be back with your food."

"Good." King Aswell stated, shuffling in his seat as he appeared to be looking for something. From the front seat pocket, he pulled out another book. My eyes grew wide. This can't happen again. Didn't I already explain I wasn't much of a reader?

"While we wait for his return, I wanted to show you one of my favorite poetry collections. Most of these are in French, but I'm actually quite fluent . . ." He kept talking, but my mind ran off, completely lost to this conversation. Help! He's talking about his boring books again! I fought every urge I had to pound on the window and cry out. Somehow, I managed to maintain perfect princess etiquette and smile as we peered at the book together, each and every word-crusted page.