Chapter 10 #2
She’s already there with her easel positioned near the windows, where the light is best. Her hair is piled on top of her head with a paintbrush stuck through it, and there’s a smudge of cerulean on her jaw. She’s mixing colors with that focused expression I’m starting to need too much.
“You arrived early,” I say from the doorway.
She looks up, and her mouth curves. “Don’t let it go to your head. I couldn’t wait.”
“Same.”
She gestures to the chair with her brush. “Sit. Grace me with your presence.”
“How’s this?”
“You’re tense.” She studies me. “What happened?”
I drop my shoulders and try to settle into position, but my body won’t cooperate.
“Long day,” I offer.
She loads her brush and watches me for a moment before turning to the canvas. “Did you know eighty-five percent of what we worry about doesn’t come to fruition?”
“It’s the other fifteen percent that concerns me,” I explain.
“You look like someone canceled your birthday.” She starts working on the painting.
I try to relax, but I keep thinking about the seven women who will arrive in the morning. Tomorrow evening, I’ll sit through a welcome dinner, pretending to be interested in all of them. This will be my life for two weeks. It already feels like a living hell.
“You’re doing it again,” she singsongs.
“Doing what?”
“Disappearing.” She sets down her brush and crosses her arms. “You’ve been somewhere else since you walked in, and it’s making it impossible to paint you.”
“I’m right here.”
“Your body is here. The rest of you is three kingdoms away. Take your mask off, Louis.” She tilts her head.
I could tell her everything. I could break every rule.
“Palace politics,” I tell her. “Bureaucratic nonsense.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m an excellent liar, actually. Top three in the country.”
“I can tell you’re hella bothered.” She picks up her brush again. “But fine, you can keep your secrets. You’re sucky company when you’re like this.”
“Excuse me?”
“You brood like it’s the default setting.” She dabs paint on the canvas. “You’re like the Beast, not the prince.”
“And what does that make you?”
“Beauty, of course and always.” She works in silence for a moment before glancing at me. “You know what your problem is?”
“Which one? Please guess. I seem to have many right now.”
“You’re always thinking six moves ahead and calculating risks.” She shrugs. “Sometimes, you should let intuition guide you and make the first move that feels right without overthinking it.”
She has no idea how accurate that is.
“What would you suggest?”
“Something that isn’t part of a grand strategy. Focus on the board, and remember, you’re in control.” She returns her attention to the canvas. “You have more power than you realize.”
I want to stand and pull her into my arms.
“You’re suggesting spontaneity.” I wonder if she’s onto something.
“Not completely. It’s more like letting your heart guide you. Sometimes, it’s right even if everything around you says it’s wrong.”
“Is that advice for me or you, Miss Cross?”
She licks her lips and smiles. “Hmm. I’m not sure I know the answer to that, Your Highness.”
The session continues with lighter banter, though the tension underneath never fully dissolves. I watch her concentrate, memorizing the way she bites her lip when she’s focused and the small furrow between her brows when something isn’t working.
The mood grows somber, and I wonder if she can feel the shift too. She steps back and stretches.
“I think we’re done for the day. We lost the sun.”
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I don’t think so. I’ll work from reference photos.”
“Are you purposely avoiding me?” I ask.
“No.” She packs her supplies, taking her time. “It’s clear you have a lot on your mind that you need to work through. Palace politics. Bureaucratic nonsense,” she says, using my words against me. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You, a burden? I don’t think so.”
“Notice how you didn’t comment on the other things. Take some time. You’ve got a lot going on in your world right now.” She gives me a smile and lifts her bag to her shoulder. “I hope you have a good night.”
“You’re playing hard to get,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. “I know how these games work.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Yes, and I destroy men like you, Louis. You were warned, but still, you play.”
“I enjoy living on the edge,” I say, smirking.
“The problem is, I do too.”
“I’m not afraid of the consequences,” I tell her.
“You should be.”
When she’s gone, I sit in the empty conservatory and watch the light fade from gold to amber to purple. Her words echo in my head.
“Focus on the board.”
“You have more power than you realize.”
She’s wrong about that.
My father is dying, and the council has lost faith in me. I have no power here. I never did. The illusion of choice was just that, and now the walls are closing in fast.
I’ve spent my entire life playing defense, protecting my king, calculating risks instead of taking them. I’ve never made a move without knowing exactly how it would play out, but where has that gotten me? Maybe I should stop overthinking and make a move.
But it’s illogical, dangerous, and risky.
There is no solution where this works. I need to be the crown prince I was raised to be and stop pretending I can have something that was never meant for me.
I think about the notes we’ve been passing back and forth and how she looked at me last night when she said she was choosing adventure anyway.
She’s my queen. The most powerful piece on the board, the one that can move in any direction, the one that changes everything. And I don’t want to lose her.
I stand and walk to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass as the last sliver of sun disappears below the horizon. Tomorrow evening, I will perform the role of interested suitor while I pursue Addison behind the scenes.
I should end this before it really begins, but I’m selfishly not ready to surrender her. Not fucking yet.