Page 8 of Falling Princess
“I like that explanation far better.”
“Yes, it’s much less flattering to our would-be hero.” Kenton smirked. “Let’s go with that.”
“It makes me feel marginally better about my brief flight to freedom.”
“Aww. Poor little privileged princess, prisoner of fate.”
I scowled. Kenton’s mockery is funny until it’s directed at me. His taunts hit right where it hurts. Iamextraordinarily privileged; I am also a prisoner.
Materially, I want for nothing.
Apart from scraps of affection, however genuine, from Cata, Raina, and occasionally my father, I’ve been utterly alone since I was ten years old. Left to navigate a complicated inheritance of history, religion, and modernity without a lot of guidance or support. Legend says that if the Goddess Auralia’s line falls, so will the whole country. Like every child, I cut my teeth on those stories.
Legends are nothing but superstitious nonsense. I’m a woman of science—or at least, I’m trying to be. I’dliketo be.
What I want or need doesn’t signify. Never has.
The pilot comes over the intercom to announce that we will be landing soon on the strip of black sand beach between the Mountains of Fire and Ice. I sighed inwardly. One more day of travel before I face my father’s wrath.
CHAPTERTHREE
“Was it worth it, Zosia?” my father bellowed, echoing Cata’s question on the plane.
Yes.
“No,” I mumbled, examining the polished travertine floor. It would’ve been if Raina had left her stupid phone at the hotel, the way we planned.
“I cannot decide which of you to be more disappointed with. You, for risking everything we worked to build, or Raina, for going along with it.”
I’m still angry with her for telling Lorcan where we were going, but that doesn’t mean I’ll throw her under the wagon to make myself look better. We planned it together, executed it together, and she’s the one who messed things up, but I’m resigned to taking the fall.
“It was my idea.”
I doubt Raina’s getting chewed out by her father, King Myseci. She’s only waiting for Lorcan to come around to marrying her before she claims her crown. In the meantime, she takes on as much or as little responsibility as she likes.
Am I jealous? Yes. She has everything I don’t: autonomy, love, authority…
My father rounded on me, his green eyes flashing with ire. “How am I to trust you to live abroad, now?”
…respect,I mentally added to my list. While she might not have the kind of love she wants from Lorcan, King Myseci acts like he cares about his daughter. He likes Raina for who she is. My father...doesn’t. Hasn’t since I was a kid.
“It will never happen again.”Please, please do not take this opportunity away from me.I may not believe in the goddess I’m supposedly descended from, but I’m not above begging her for mercy, in a pinch—not that it ever works. Auralia doesn’t deign to notice her supposed descendant. “Please, don’t take school away from me.”
From all of us. I’m not the only one who planned to attend. Raina, Kenton, and a fourth Olympian from our competitive team, Bashir. I don’t know him well. He was selected partly as another quasi-guard for me, and partly to ensure all three Auralian tribes were represented in receiving the honor of spending a year abroad.
I feel sick at the thought that I tanked Kenton and Bashir’s prospects with my recklessness. They were looking forward to it.
Worse, they might go without me.
I was accepted into Stanford University. Also, to the Sorbonne, in Paris, and Oxford, in London. Columbia, in New York, offered me a scholarship, but they couldn’t accommodate the ridiculous security requirements set by Cata and my father. None of them could.
I’ll therefore be attending myfather’schoice of schools.
Royals University, in Scotland. Despite its aura of history, it’s actually the newest of all the institutions I applied to, founded as a refuge for the wealthy. Royals U is willing to meet any demands for safety required by the global elite to protect their children. I wouldn’t have picked it, but if it’s the only opportunity offered, I’ll take it. I’d sell my soul to get away from the pressure here at home.
“No, it will not. You’re right about that.” He paced up and down the dais, before the large throne where he usually sits. Beside it is my smaller, prettier throne in carved wood, painted gold, and upholstered in the distinctive shade of violet-blue reserved for the Auralian royal family and the nobility. During weekly open forums, any citizen may petition the king—or, traditionally, the queen; Auralia is a matriarchy, and although it’s confusing to outsiders, our queens outrank kings—for assistance in any matter.
“You’ve demonstrated you cannot be trusted, Zosia. I am therefore appointing you a knight protector.”
