Page 97 of Falling Princess

I assumed she would want to come to the castle.

“I’m excited to see my sister. Headed to Covari Village tonight. Kiss your father for me.”

It’s a strange thing to say. Kiss my father? For her? What? Sheknowsour relationship is too distant for affection. Isn’t theirs, too?

For the first time, I wondered if my father felt as isolated as I do.

“I’ll see you at Midwinter,” I called after her.

“Write that speech!” Cata yelled over her shoulder. I flipped her the bird, a very un-princess-like gesture. I caught one of the guardsmen smiling. Right. He must be one of my father’s regular guards. It has no meaning here at home. I clambered into the waiting coach alone, feeling like a prisoner getting into a cell.

I really need to visit the Gaol this year. Reset my perspective.

* * *

In an echo of my departure, my father embraced me warmly. It’s so nice to be hugged by him. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s done this since my mother died, and two of those embraces happened this year. Maybe Cata was onto something. There’s a welcome thaw in our frosty, contentious relationship.

Goddess knows I wish I could just be his daughter, instead of a living symbol. I lost my whole family the day my mother died.

“How are your classes?” he asked, as though he were actually interested in my life. The best Midwinter gift he could have given me.

“Going well. It was a heavy course load, but I managed well enough.”With Lorcan’s help,I didn’t say. “If I can keep up the same pace, I should be able to finish my degree by the end of next term.”

“I’m glad you brought that up.” He got out of his chair and began pacing, hands clasped at the small of his back. I know this posture. I know that furrowed brow. I’ve barely been home long enough to bathe and change clothing, eat in my rooms, and receive his message that he wished to see me before bed. I’m tired. Whatever he has to say, I don’t want to hear it.

“By the end of the academic year, you will approach your twentieth birthday. Well past time to see the succession secured.”

My heart, my stomach, my everything sank through the floor. He feigned interest to soften the blow. I’m not even apersonto him.

“I’m not ready, Father. I still have so much I want to do” —like try sex with someone I’m actually attracted to; at least give me that much—damnit, Lorcan— “before settling down.”

Panic flooded me, tempered with resignation. I thought I had more time.

“There’s the researchers I met at the climate conference. Don’t you think Auralia has a lot to offer the world? Our hydroelectric systems? The ancient Covari energy liquid Saskaya and Raghnall are studying? Our biodiversity and medicinal plants? Once I finish my degree, I can apply to do a doctorate, perhaps run a lab—” I rambled.

“Zosia.” My father cuts me off wearily. “You knew you were never going to do any of those things.”

Tears welled in my eyes. Hot, heavy pain crushed me from the inside. I studied my clasped hands.

“There is no one else like you. You have one job. One role to play. Anything else you do with your life is a bonus, of course, but your primary purpose is to become queen and bear the next princess.”

That isnotmy primary purpose. It is the one that was decreed to me at birth. My gaze fell to the travertine—I spend half my time at this castle staring at it. Tracing the pale cream specks and lines in ivory is vaguely soothing.

“If there is anyone whose name you would like to see put forth, please submit it to me in writing for evaluation. I do not wish to make you unhappy. You have the next few weeks to consider the sons of Auralia’s finest families. Surely, one will appeal to you? Perhaps that Kenton boy you’ve been studying with?”

I swallow. “He’ll do.”

My father makes a face. “I confess I hoped for some enthusiasm, Daughter.”

“I don’t wish to be married. Not now.” Not ever. If I say that part out loud, though, we’ll have a true battle royale.

Technically, it’smythrone he sits on. It’smykingdom.Not his.I don’t want an argument, or to challenge him for control. I simply want a say in the course of my life.

“It is a matter of national security, Zosia. Reconcile yourself to doing your duty, or you won’t be returning to Scotland. And that’s final.”

Some break this is turning out to be. If I get to go back to Europe... maybe I’ll just stay there. Run away. Claim my own freedom.

It’s a nice thought, but I know I’d never have the courage. Besides, I would be dead inside of a week, and that’s no freedom at all.

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