Page 72 of Once Upon a Crown
I left my teacup on the table, not being able to walk with more than my cane and book. Lance was still standing in the door as I passed him. As I stepped inside, he took hold of my arm, urging me to look back.
There was a moment of silence as his eyes searched me, as if he were looking for the right words.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
I certainly couldn’t have anticipated him saying that.
“I don’t hate you.” I strongly disliked him and his manners, but I didn’t think I’d ever truly hated anyone.
“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t want to be in the same room as me. You can hardly look me in the eye.”
I let out a sigh. “That doesn’t mean I hate you.”
“Then what does it mean?” he pressed.
I thought about what to say and how to say it, but the words did not come easily.
“It just means I don’t want to talk to you.”
I tried to pull my hand away, still clutching the book, but Lance did not let go.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to, Lance. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“No, it’s not.” Damn him and his persistence. I was starting to grow agitated. Part of me feared that if he pushed me far enough, we’d only have a repeat of our conversation in the library. And then he would look at me like a dog who’d just been kicked. I wanted to despise him for it. For everything.
“What did I do, Gwen?”
“Nothing.” I had no interest in continuing this conversation with him in the least bit.
“Well, I must have done something because I’m the only person around here that you treat with so much resentment.”
How could I not when he clearly thought so little of me that he remembered nothing at all?
“Why do you care anyway? I don’t want to talk about this.”
“To hell with what you want. I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
“Well, if you’re not leaving, then I am.” I pulled my arm hard enough that Lance wouldn’t be able to hold on without hurting me and started to walk away.
Of course, this did nothing to prevent the spoiled prince from following me.
Naturally, I wasn’t able to walk very fast and so he easily stepped in front of me, blocking my way.
I let out a groan of frustration, contemplating hitting him with the walking stick.
“Do you want me to beg, is that it?”
“No,” I cried out. “I want you to leave me alone.”
“I will if you tell me what’s the matter. Why do you detest me?”
And I was so desperate to get away from him that before I could think better of it, I blurted out, “Because, you incompetent, selfish bastard, you stole my first kiss.”
* * *
I was sixteen years old when I last saw the Prince of Everness. He was tall for his age back then, with sharp features to accompany his midnight hair. We were all gathered in the throne room of Mistwood when King Magnus and Prince Lance came to visit Norrandale. I wasn’t privy to the reason for their visit, but I believed it was regarding some political matter.
