Page 32 of The Promised Prince
The king exchanged pleasantries with her mother and Seran for a moment longer, something about getting settled before the dinner celebration, but Renna hardly listened. She was still trying to get a handle on her shock. The onlookers in the courtyard began to disperse as the king walked away.
Trev glanced in her direction before he turned to follow. Her hurt eyes met his. For the first time, they saw each other for who they really were: Trev, the prince, and Renna, the country girl playing the part of a lady. She thought he might say something—she hoped he might—but instead, he turned and left.
Renna’s heart went numb.
The head maid of the ruler’s palace appeared at the queen’s side to escort them in. Renna followed behind, her shock preventing her from keeping up with the group. They passed through the doors under the arching entryway into a large hall, with light blue walls and a tall, coffered ceiling. In front of them, a large staircase with light green, diamond-patterned carpet curved upward.
The maid took them to their rooms, giving directions and explanations all along the way. Renna hoped that none of it was too important because she couldn’t focus on a single word.
They were assigned their own rooms, each spacious and finely decorated with large windows and a balcony facing the mountains. The color schemes were colorful and bright. Renna’s room had a vanity and mirror against the wall by the door to the bathroom. On the opposite side of the room, a large bed covered in a maroon comforter dominated the space, flanked by a single nightstand and lamp.
Once left alone, Renna sank onto the bed, tears already forming in her eyes.
How could this have happened? Losing her father, the one person she loved and idolized more than anyone in the world had nearly destroyed her. Then to be taken from Wellenbreck—her home—to the Government Center so soon afterward, to live among people who hardly cared that she existed, to spend the next four years of her life living as a shadow of herself, letting her mother down when she couldn’t live up to her expectations, never sure where she belonged... it was too much.
With all the changes she had experienced in the past four years, her stolen moments with Trev had been some of her best moments. He had made her hope again, made her feel optimistic, made her believe that perhaps there was a happy future for her somewhere. Now that was taken from her too. It was more than she could stand.
She had a lot of practice not letting loss get the best of her. Things were never as bad as they felt. But the pain she felt over losing Trev—even just the possibility of Trev—drove through her so powerfully that she couldn’t keep it at bay. It was a pain born from all the things she’d lost, and it threatened to carry her away now. She decided to let it.
Cradling the soft pillow below her face, she decided she would give herself one moment of sadness, one moment to surrender to her shock, her anger, her embarrassment, and her broken heart. Wet tears spilled onto the pillowcase. She had been a stupid girl thinking that she was on the verge of her own fairytale.
She wasn’t a princess, and she wasn’t the one Trev was going to marry.
11
Trev
Drake called after him, but Trev didn’t let up his pace. His anger and frustration drove him, and he was desperate to release it somehow. He made his way to the training grounds at the side of the palace where the king’s soldiers trained. Loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, he strode into the dirt arena where several soldiers already sparred.
“Is there a soldier willing to fight me?” he shouted above the practicing men’s grunts.
Some broke off mid-spar at the prince’s arrival, bowing respectfully. A few young men stepped forward, eager to show off in front of the prince.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Drake gasped as he burst into the arena. “Forgive me, but you’re in no mood to fight with a young soldier. You might kill one of them.” He stepped in front of Trev, putting both hands on his chest to stop him.
“Drake, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my way.”
“You’re being irrational.”
Trev blew out a harsh breath. “I’m not going tokillanyone.”
“Still, don’t take your anger out on one of these boys.”
“Are you volunteering?”
Drake shook his head. “If I have to.”
“Then let’s go.”
Sighing, Drake removed his gray vest and weapons belt, then took his place across from Trev in the dirt. A small crowd of soldiers gathered around to watch, forming a wide circle around them.
Immediately, Trev swung his right arm toward Drake’s face. Drake quickly stepped to the side, leaning away from the punch.
“Are we boxing?” Drake said as he shuffled away.
“You’re the one who volunteered.” Trev spun, dust flying in the air, then sent a blow to Drake’s ribs. Drake grabbed his side for a moment but didn’t swing back.
“Fight me!” Trev yelled. He took two steps forward, throwing his arms in a sequence of jabs.
