Page 23 of The Princess's Pet

“Why are you reading about this story?” I asked, my hand carefully resting atop her hand that had gripped my thigh.

“History has a habit of repeating itself,” she spoke quietly, cryptically, and that same hint of pain flashed across her features.

Unthinking, I lifted my hand to her face and ran my thumb across her cheek under her eye. “Why are you sad?” I asked. Her eyes glowed brighter, her hand at my waist and on my leg gripped me tightly, painfully, and she growled loudly.

“Remember your place,” she spat, and I expected her to throw me from her lap, or for her tight grip to increase further, but she held me in her gaze and did not look away, her eyes seemingly searching my face, for what I didn’t know. “Do you miss your mother?” she growled out, unexpectedly changing the subject.

“I never knew my mother,” I answered, and her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Who was that woman that clung to you so protectively when I came for you then?” she asked, her eyes still glowing and her grip still strong, but the growl was dying in her chest.

“Rosemary, she is my father’s partner, they’ve been together only over a year and are expecting a child. She is lovely and will make a good mother,” I said, and my throat tightened as I remembered that I would never see my father or Rosemary or my sibling. I had not thought about my family. It wasn’t because I didn’t care for them or miss them; so much had happened and the Princess herself and my new life were great distractions. I now felt their loss heavy in my chest.

“Where is your mother?” she asked, more softly, her eyes still watching my face closely.

“She died giving birth to me. Until Rosemary, it was only my father and me,” I explained.

“Do you miss her, despite not having known her?” she questioned, and I thought her question intrusive, but still, I couldn’t stop myself from answering when the Princess looked at me like my answer was of importance to her.

“I miss not having had a mother; I miss what never was,” I explained. It was difficult to grieve for someone you didn’t know, but I knew my father missed her gravely, that if it had not been for me, he might have followed her in death. But I did not grieve the mother I never knew; I grieved for the mother I never had.

She held my gaze for what seemed a very long time, her grip on me never lessening, but glowing eyes dimming. “I lost my mother,” she spoke, disrupting the strangely charged silence.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” I softly said, my hand still holding her cheek, rubbing soothingly across her skin. The pain that had been but brief flashes showed itself as her eyes closed and she pressed her face against my hand.

“No one knows,” she whispered, her head turning to press her lips against my palm. I stilled, confused. The death of the Queen was major. The Princess opened her eyes and looked at me, gauging my reaction.

“Why has it not been announced?” I asked cautiously, slowly, when it seemed her eyes encouraged me to speak what was on my mind.

“Because my mother was murdered, poisoned, and we do not know by whom,” the Princess answered, her voice stronger, and her grip on me loosened. “You cannot speak a word of this,” she said, sternly.

“I would never,” I promised. Her hand moved from my thigh to take hold of my own that had held her face. She squeezed my hand, kissing it once more before placing it on my lap.

“The story of the king's betrayal has been on my mind since I learned of my mother's passing. She was betrayed too, and the betrayal could only have been committed by someone close to her,” the Princess explained.

“When did it happen?” I questioned, afraid that I was pushing the Princess too much, but she didn’t reprimand me.

“Almost a week before I came for you,” she said, and I was shocked that it was so recently. I felt a surge of compassion run through me. The Princess had lost her mother and here she was at school, not able to grieve the loss. “It’s why I came for you,” she continued.

“What do you mean?”

“I have known about you since shortly after you gave your blood sample for testing. Originally, I planned to simply ignore the soul match when I learned of your social standing. But my mother's murder, forced me to reassess my security and having a soul match running around outside of my control is too great a risk.

“The soul match testing results are meant to be anonymous. In theory, no one but myself should have known about you. But how could I be sure, how could I be sure of anything when my mother, the queen herself, was murdered in her home while dining with the king? My personal guard each made a blood oath, to never reveal that I have a soul match, and I came for you,” she explained.

I recoiled at the sting of her rejection. She had known about me for almost a year and thought me unworthy. But I also balked at how she so casually mentioned a blood oath. Blood oaths were dangerous blood magic, to break a blood oath was to drop dead from excruciating pain.

“You didn’t ever want me; you weren’t at all curious about me?” I asked, unable to hide my hurt.

“No,” the Princess answered simply. “If it weren’t for current circumstances, I would have left you to live your life unencumbered by me.” And, as she spoke, her voice held a touch of sombre.

“A soul match isn’t an inconvenience,” I replied.

“Perhaps for most, it is not,” the Princess agreed softly, lifting my chin to look at her. “But to be my soul match, I fear is a burden, one that would be difficult for even another Royal to manage. You have never been in more danger Percy,” she said, seriously, her eyes searching mine.

9. The Colour Green Doesn’t Look Good On You

I awoke before the Princess, embarrassed to realise that my head and upper body lay on top of her, with the Princess’s arms wrapped tight around me and our legs tangled. I didn’t fall asleep like that. I fell asleep alone in bed and grumpy after the Princess sent me to bed for yawning. I tried to pull away without waking her, but her arms tightened around me.

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