Page 32 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“Princess, it’s an honor to meet you,” he says, bowing at the waist in an overly formal manner for the setting. Such formalities are probably expected of him during official ceremonies, but here, it feels downright ridiculous. “I’m Paular Snow, but everyone calls me Paul.”
I mask a cringe with my hand. “Come on, Papa. I’ll show you my room.”
But Willow is a true princess and knows how to handle such gestures. She smiles and offers him her knuckles to kiss. “I’m glad to meet you. Beth is talented and smart, and that reflects well on you, Sir Paul.” She gives us a gracious nod. “No need to cower in your room, Beth. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“You’re too kind,” he replies, his face brightening.
Willow closes her bedroom door quietly behind her, and Papa relaxes a bit. “She calls you Beth already?” He looks down at me with a soft smile, his mouth slightly agape as he takes in my pristine Royal Academy uniform. “Oh, Lizzie. I’m so proud of you. I knew you weren’t born with your mother’s face and that god-gifted ice magic for nothing…”
I trace the golden lines in the cushions of the sofa as Papa walks to the windows, gazing out at the ocean. The unshed tears of joy in his eyes rattle me. He’s not much of a crier.
“Your mother would be so glad to see how far you’ve come…” he trails off.
My breath catches in my throat. Papa almost never talks of my mother, a real shame considering she died when I was a toddler. I have no memories of her and barely enough stories of their time together to fill a piece of parchment.
He clears his throat, erasing the emotion from his voice, and turns to face me again. “You seem surprised to see me. Didn’t you get my note?”
I show off his sealed letter. “I haven’t opened it yet.”
His eyes sparkle with pride and something else—something I’m all too familiar with. Expectations. “Making it into the Royal Academy is no small feat. You’re on the path to greatness, my girl.”
I try to smile but end up just nodding. “Thank you, Papa.”
He walks over and sits beside me, his gaze intent and serious. “But it’s just the beginning, Lizzie. You’ve got so much potential, so much talent. You passed trials most of us wouldn’t dream of taking on. You succeeded where tons of high-born royals have failed. I know you can achieve anything you set your mind to, but you have to give it your all. No slacking, no distractions.”
“I know, Papa. I won’t let you down.” My voice wavers slightly, weighed down by an anchor of secrets, but I manage to hold his gaze.
“Good. I’ve sacrificed a lot to get you here, and I want you to have everything I never did. You have the chance to be a queen someday, and no matter what happens with Ezekiel’s father, your new status will ensure a better future for Marjorie and Kiro as well. They send you each a kiss.”
The mention of my rowdy cousins brings tears to my eyes. I miss them so much already.
Papa places a hand on my shoulder, his touch both comforting and heavy. “I know it won’t be easy, Lizzie. But remember, I’ll always be here to support you. I just want you to succeed. To be happy.”
“I will,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Tell Marge she can finally have my bed. And that overcoat she liked.”
Papa thinks I’m this perfect, golden child, but I cheated. It kills me to lie to him—to everyone—and endure this charade. But he’s right. It’s not just my life that’ll be forever changed by this opportunity, but that of our entire family.
He studies my face. “Are you sure everything’s alright? You’re quiet when you should be ecstatic. Did something happen between you and Ezekiel?”
I swallow hard, the urge to confess ebbing out as soon as it surfaces. I can’t tell him. Or anyone. Not ever. “It’s...a big change.”
“Is that all?”
I nod quickly to disperse his suspicions. “It’s been a lot to take in, but I’ll manage, I promise.”
“Alright.” He pats my hand. “Just remember, I’m always here for you, no matter what.” He stands up and glances around the room one last time before heading toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to it. Just work hard, Lizzie. You’re destined for great things.”
As soon as he’s gone, I let out a long, shaky breath.
“That didn’t last long,” Willow muses, and from the mischievous look on her face, I know she was eavesdropping.
“My father is nothing if not efficient. I’m surprised he came at all.”
She bites her bottom lip. “You’ve made him proud.”
“For now.”
His love too often takes the shape of a hoop he needs me to jump through, but I keep that part to myself.
