Page 96 of The Dandelion Princess
He rests his cheek on the top of my head. “How was she?”
“Resolute.” I worry the edge of his button. “But I like—” I start. “I like that she refuses to apologize about loving Oskar. I would never apologize if—”
I train my eyes on his shoulder, on the solid strength of it. Of course my emotions don’t arrive gently. When I finally realize what’s happening, it feels like an alien mothership emerging from a thunderhead. I swear there is lightning spiking to the ground, splintering trees and illuminating the dark center of the cloud. I hear the roar of my heartbeat in my ears and I hold very still in the awful majesty of it.
No, no, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I take a ragged breath.
My feelings for Marc had come back, but they’re supposed to fade again. The pendulum swings. I could always count on a reprieve, no matter how brief. Eventually.
Not anymore.
I will never fall out of love with Marc van Heyden.
Marc anchors me to him, but panic crawls up my neck. There is no one else for me. This is the end of the line, and it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened.Vede. I need to get him out of here so I can think.
“Even if you approve of Freja, you’re still allowed to be sad,” he says, continuing a conversation that doesn’t even matter anymore.
Vede. Freja is forgiven for running off with Oskar and throwing her whole life into disorder ifthisis what she was feeling.
I want to find some semaphore flags and signal a message from the palace ramparts to her flat. S-O-G-L-A-D-Y-O-U-G-O-T-Y-O-U-R-M-A-N. Stop. S-E-N-D-H-E-L-P. Stop.
“I’m over it,” I say, surprised to find that I’m speaking the truth. This whole day has been a revolution but Freja behaved beautifully. “The tears were great.” I give Marc a double thumbs up I immediately regret. “Thanks for facilitating.”
He smiles. “Anytime.” He presses a soft kiss against my brow. “I’m sorry I can’t stay long tonight. Werner’s spreadsheets are urgent.”
I’ve never been caught in an actual flood, but the common advice is to grab onto the first floatation device that passes. The one that passes me now is the jankiest life preserver I’ve ever seen, but I can’t afford to be picky.
Spreadsheets. I push myself away, putting a few millimeters of space between us. “Speaking of, now that I know where Freja stands, I think it’s time for me to consider my mother’s spreadsheets,” I laugh. Marc came to me today and how did he get me to open up?We’re friends.It’s a reminder and a warning. “It’s time I find some clapped out Motovian aristocrat to drag down the aisle of Roslav Cathedral.”
“Hm?”
“It’s time.”
He threads a curl around his fingers. “Where is the princess who said she would never marry anyone her mother described as appropriate?”
Have I made him nervous? With my plans to leave and my threshold for marriage set, he probably thought he was safe from being seriously considered as a future husband. Safe enough to kiss. “With my sisters otherwise engaged, I’ll have my pick of the crop. The Motovian aristocrat doesn’t even have to be clapped out.” I smooth my skirt.
A line forms between his brows. “No. You’re going to leave. You have a plan. The endangered species tracking. The Bond lair.”
I swallow, picking my way through thoughts that begin to slowly organize themselves. I have to make him believe me. “When Freja told us she was pregnant, I thought that there was no way. She loves her personal space too much. She likes orderand quiet. She couldn’t possibly trade all that to nurture a tiny human. That kind of sacrifice…”
My nose prickles with more tears but I wrinkle them away. “You should have seen Clara when Freja stepped out of the line of succession on national television, moving her up one rung. She’s devastated and she probably won’t even tell anyone but Max. The thought of doing that to her again…” I shake my head.
And Mama. She looked vulnerable in a way a giant never should. I can’t do that to her, either.
I see the balance of my life. The dress codes and proscribed behavior. The public-facing masks and the friction of working with my family. I’m not blind or ignorant. These don’t disappear just because I decide to stay. But I think about Freja being brave and Clara being scared and how much I want to protect everyone who shares my blood.
“I thought I was a runner.” I lift my shoulder. “I guess not.”
What follows is a tense second. Then Marc holds my hand between his palms. Does he feel caught? Does he feel bound to say something? Offer something?
“Anyway,” I jerk back and clap my hands lightly, “Noah doesn’t have a family yet, and I can read the writing on the wall. It’s time to open the spreadsheets. Mama can’t afford to lose another HRH, and I know when to surrender.”
His smile fades and he lowers his head for a slow, deliberate kiss that leaves me in pieces. “You’ve been nursing the sameSquadRunteam for years. You don’t know anything about surrender,” he insists, pulling me in for more.
When he kisses me, I feel like crying again.
Marc and I promised that we wouldn’t take this any further, that acting on a sliver of the physical attraction between us would satisfy, tiding us over a rough patch. We sealed it with a pinky swear, but something has shifted in the last few weeks. I’ve learned to take his kisses as my right.
