Page 49 of Falling Princess
“He’s a masochist, then. You’re actually nice to him.”
She huffed a sad laugh.
“Seriously, Raina. He’s not blind.” I pull the throw blanket up to my chin as though I can hide from this awful twist. There is no possible way it’s true. “You’re beautiful, and just as royal as I am. Better at it, honestly. You have the temperament of a princess. There must be another reason. He’s stuck with me for the time being.”
“I doubt it’s rational. His feelings about you are wrapped up in his obsession with restoring his father’s honor.”
Weirdly, Raina’s dismissal cuts like an antique assassin’s knife. It’s too much to ask to be liked for myself. His crush has nothing to do with me, Zosia. It’s all about what I represent and what I can do for him—absolve his father. Not that I quite understand why he needs absolving. The man failed to stop the Skía from killing my mother but it’s not as though he slit her throat himself. He did his best.
“Being appointed your knight protector, Zosia, was his dream come true.”
“That’s sad for him.” My joke, again, lands harshly.
“I don’t have to tell you that you’re beautiful—”
“As are you, every bit as much as I am—” I interjected, panicking. I don’t want to hear what she’s about to say. I don’t want this. Any of it.
“You are what Lorcan has wanted since he was twelve years old, Zosia.”
I stared blankly into space, mute with horror.
Raina was merciless. “When he wants something, he goes after it until he gets it. The tenacity of a badger, Saskaya once said, and she was right.”
I felt sick. Afraid. Yet again, I’m caught up in events beyond my control, and powerless to influence the outcome. Something to begot;an acquisition. Helpless rage and despair settled in the pit of my stomach. He’s no better than that disgusting diplomat I encountered in London.
“I am not an object to be claimed,” I argued. I didn’t want to see it, because what Raina is saying scares the living shit out of me.
“My point is that I never had a chance with Lorcan.”
“I am so sorry, my dear friend.” I wished we were having this conversation in person. “Be patient; it’ll burn out. You know I don’t reciprocate his crush in any way.”
“That’s not how Lorcan works, Zosh.”
“Well, too bad. It’s howIwork.” I don’t actually know how I work. The only thing I’ve ever wanted deeply is my freedom, and having never had it, I feel like I hardly know myself. This conversation is ruining all my newfound, secret joy.
“Be good to him, Zosia. He’s worth it, I promise you. Lorcan is the best man you’ll ever meet. He adores you.”
“Whether I deserve it or not.”
We both know I don’t. I never asked for Lorcan’s devotion. I don’t know what to do with it, or how to feel about it. Furious, yes. But knowledge is power, and I’m onto him now. I understand his game plan. That sneaky, cheeky little upstart thinks he can have the ultimate vengeance by winning over everyone around me, and then winning my hand.
He won’t get away with it. One word to my father about Lorcan’s predatory intentions and the king will order him back to his village in the hinterlands for good, far away from me.
He’ll regret the day he broke Raina’s heart. The one person I will never choose to marry is Lorcan of Tenáho.
If I’m given a choice, and not an order.
Unlikely, that. At least this time, I can count on my father to crush Lorcan’s ambitions.
* * *
On Tuesday, I returned to the Black Sheep Cafe for lunch, and then browsed the shops two streets over. Being a terrible guest, I stole more money from Cata’s kitty and bought myself a new notebook, which Cata isn’t likely to notice and therefore suspect me of making secret excursions all by myself. I also purchased a new set of colorful gel pens.
Feeling proud of myself—aside from my theft of her petty cash—I returned to the house to finish studying. The rude stranger from yesterday didn’t make another appearance, to my immense relief.
It’s been forty-eight hours since I last saw my cursed knight, and as long as I don’t think about Raina’s little truth bomb from yesterday, I am thrilled. I don’t miss having him around in the slightest. Being alone, truly alone, is amazing. No one telling me what to do or how to behave or where to go—I could get used to this.
Best of all, it’s just enough solitude and independence, without feeling too lonely.
