Page 50 of The Rejected King
“I have no idea.”
The artifact team handled the pieces, displaying everything out on a table for the newswriters to look at.
Patrice sighed, watching everyone bend over the valuable relics. “I don’t think you could have planned anything more romantic to come out of that safe. It was perfect.” She smiled at the newswriters, and they smiled back like she was already the queen. She really knew how to work an angle. If Patrice was by Davin’s side, he’d probably never have a problem with likability again.
But then he wouldn’t be like Danny.
He wouldn’t have learned that love and family were the only things that mattered.
21
Emree
Emree had put on her best smile, but inside, she had been dying all day. From watching Davin with Patrice to hearing the words of that heartfelt pre-Desolation letter, she couldn’t take it any longer. She was sad and lonely and wanted Portlend to wash away all of the hurt plaguing her inside—the hurt that she couldn’t understand.
She sat in silence on the edge of Portlend’s bed. The afternoon sun faded, and a hazy orange glow seeped through the window of the soldiers’ barracks, creating a shadow on the wood floor. His bedroom mimicked Emree’s, containing a small dresser, a single bed, and an oval-shaped mirror. She didn’t know how long she had been there waiting before the door opened, and Portlend stopped, looking over her sunken form.
“Em?” He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. “You okay?”
She rushed to him, slamming her body against his into a tight hug. She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. Portlend’s strong arms encased her, making her feel safe. Emree buried her nose into his neck, soaking up every ounce of comfort she could find.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Can you just hold me?”
“Okay.” Portlend smoothed her hair over and over again.
She closed her eyes, feeling the dullness of her aching heart. Emree had tried not to let her emotions get tangled up into Davin. She had told herself that they could never be together, but each day he had slowly taken a piece of her heart. Now, it was like Davin lived inside her heart, and Emree had let him stay there...rent-free.
Her future was with Portlend.
Davin’s future was with Patrice.
That’s how the world worked—ruling class married ruling class and working class married working class. She knew all of that, but it still hurt. Could she really work at the castle after the Promenade and watch Davin with Patrice every single day? She didn’t know if her heart could handle it, but at the same time, dropping her dreams and goals felt wrong, too. She let out a deep breath, forcing all of her muddled feelings out with the air.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again.
She couldn’t tell Portlend what was really wrong. She couldn’t tell him that she had fallen in love with Davin and that her heart throbbed incessantly because she could never be with him. She couldn’t tell Portlend about the sadness and disappointment that swirled around inside of her because of their own relationship—or lack of it. She couldn’t tell him how her soul was crushed because their future didn’t seem to exist.
Emree pulled back, letting her hands slide down his arms. She decided to go with a safer answer. “They opened that pre-Desolation safe today.”
“I know.” Portlend released his hold around her and walked farther into the room. He stopped in front of his mirror, unbuttoning the top buttons of his uniform. “I read about it in the afternoon newswriter. Sounds like it was a bunch of papers and pictures. Well, except for the gold and silver, but the king will keep all of that.”
Emree walked back to the bed, sitting down again. “You should have seen the pictures. They are proof that happily-ever-afters do exist. Their family looked so happy.”
“Of course they’re going to look happy in pictures. Wasn’t that the point of the photos back then, to make everyone believe they were happy? The person taking the pictures in pre-Desolation times used to yellSMILE!What kind of weird society yells at people to smile?”
“It was more than just the pictures. Did the newswriter mention the letter?” Emree asked.
“Yeah. The newswriters had it written out in the paper.” Portlend shrugged, unbuttoning the last few buttons. He pulled his blue jacket off and threw it on the end of the bed. Emree glanced at him in his plain gray T-shirt as a downpour of memories flooded her mind. There was the time he had broken his leg when he was twelve, and she had carried him all the way home on her back. Or their first kiss in the Kemps’ apple orchard. And the time he had made her a promise ring out of a few blades of grass.
“It was the sweetest letter,” Emree said.
Portlend raked a hand over his buzzed hair, sitting next to her on the bed. “I thought the letter was kind of stupid.” His expression turned skeptical. “You’re telling me this guy would go through Desolation again forone more secondwith the woman he’d already had an entire life with?” He shook his head. “I don’t buy it.”
Emree’s lips pulled into a frown. “You’re taking it too literally. He just meant that he loved his wife. She wasthatimportant to him. He’d do anything for her. She came before everything else.”
Portlend scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I don’t believe it.”
