Chapter 52 #2
The princess stops as she reaches the door. Turns around. “Would you be honest with me, Acel. Just once?”
Acel does not respond except to fold his hands behind his back.
“Did you ever love me? Or was it some fancy of mine? Did I want it to be true so badly that I made it up in my head?” There’s no accusation in her tone. In fact, there’s a slight guilt. A hope that she hasn’t taken advantage of her position over him.
“You made nothing up,” he says, his voice a dry rasp.
Tears well in her beautiful brown eyes.
“Then why deny yourself? Is it a compulsion of yours?” She says that last bit with a hint of humor.
Acel feels the corner of his mouth twitch. “I am compelled to protect you. To honor you. At all costs, Your Highness.”
“And what is this cost you’ve schemed up in your head? Do you not think yourself worthy of me? If it’s your station, your birth, you must know I care not about any of that. If you question your place in royalty, you must know that you are better equipped than most born into royalty.”
He cannot tell her the truth. He already knows the feeling of hearing it for the first time. The dashing of hope. He cannot ask her to share in this with him.
“Whatever you think you’re shielding me from, this—wondering for years why you won’t just let me love you, watching you let me marry someone else—it will always hurt worse.”
She knows him too well. Has always been able to read his silence better than most can read his words.
The princess smiles weakly. “All these years, you’ve listened. Lent your ear to all of my thoughts. And oh, how I crave yours. Please. If you won’t compete for my hand, then, at the very least, grant this last request. Let me listen. Grant me that.”
Acel sighs. And tells her everything. He tells her of the Nomad and his involvement in the heist. His intent to steal a tapestry from the Sister to pay for his medallion.
How he’s spent every waking moment strategizing for how he’ll compete for her hand, up until the Sister told him the truth.
That, should he win her hand, there would be no more princess.
Something flickers across the princess’s face when he gets to that part, but whatever it is, it’s well-hidden.
The only part he leaves out is the package and the money. It is irrelevant at this point. When he finishes, it is her time to process in silence.
“You, Acel Vindicue, joined up with the notorious Nomad—the most wanted criminal in the world?” Then, the princess does something Acel does not expect. She claps her hand over her mouth…and laughs.
It is a beautiful sound, echoing through his halls, and he tries to memorize it as he used to memorize songs of traveling minstrels, knowing he might never hear the song again once they left.
“I am glad the truth has brought you some amount of comfort,” says Acel, hardly able to contain his smile. She is taking the truth better than he anticipated. Although, he sees now why it might be more comforting to her knowing her love has always been requited.
The princess fans herself with her hands, tears streaming down her face, carrying her kohl with it. “I just—I’m sorry, Acel, but I can’t picture it.”
“It was…a test of my patience, to be sure.”
The princess giggles, tipping the teacup to her mouth playfully.
There is a strange relaxation that’s come over her.
Her shoulders no longer seem tense, her mouth curves more easily.
Acel cannot pretend to understand why the news has not shattered her as it did him, but her reaction is more than he could ever hope for.
All he’s ever wanted is never to see her hurt.
Well, perhaps that is not all he’s ever wanted.
They spend the night on opposite sides of the table, mostly reminiscing.
Halfway through, it occurs to him that he is living a dream he’s dreamed for years.
Perhaps not the way he dreamed it, but he is grateful for it all the same.
He is aware that this night will cause him more pain than healing, but for tonight, he is a drunkard, his bane her laughter, and he cannot help reaching for another drink.
And then, faster than he could have imagined, the night is over, the sunbeams through the window unwelcome visitors come to interrupt his life.
When the princess notices and stands, stretching, Acel’s heart rips in two.
This will be their last meeting. Acel is a man of honor, and he will not continue on in her life once she has a husband.
To his surprise, the princess does not seem to share his misery. Perhaps this was the closure she’s needed. Perhaps her anguish was in the waiting on a man who had always fed her false hope.
“Goodbye, Acel,” she says, a hint of mischief in her voice.
He is happy to see her happy, but it confuses him all the same.
And then she adds, “See you in a few hours.”
Acel frowns. Does she really think he’ll attend the competition? Watch from the crowd as other men compete for her hand?
“Aditai—”
“Yes, yes. I know. The Sister told you that if you won my hand, there would be no more princess.” The princess says this nonchalantly for a woman talking about her own death.
“Then you must understand why I refuse to compete.”
“Oh, I understand,” she says. “But Acel, you really should have caught up on the news when you returned.”
Acel’s heart begins to thump wildly in his chest.
“Didn’t you hear? My mother has decided to abdicate the throne to me. Something about being tired of ruling. How it’s my turn. The only condition was that I find a companion to rule by my side. You see, Acel, once my hand is won, there will be no more Princess of Irethden. Because I will be queen.”
And with that, she’s gone, leaving Acel breathless.
He gives himself two minutes to process the information.
And then grabs the money from the floorboards.
The instructions in the note will have to wait.
Acel has a hand to win.