Chapter 9 #2
Tears well in my eyes and fall unchecked as he tucks himself back into his slacks and rights his clothing before letting my skirts fall back to the ground.
If there is such a thing as a fair and just God, Rhys would leave me alone to go back to my rooms and lick my wounds.
But he’s shown me how awful he can be and he seems to want to hold on to that cruelty for a little bit longer still.
His hands fall gently on my upper arms, and he turns me around.
When I open my eyes again, Meg is long gone and only Rhys is standing with me in the long hallway.
“I said you own me, hen, but I didn’t say you could come. Maybe a bit of delayed gratification will be good for you.”
“Please let me go,” I whisper.
“You know that I canno’.”
“I know.” And I do.
We’re both tangled up in this web of secrets and lies and there’s no hope for either of us, I guess, but to cling to one another.
I wonder if we could be stronger as a team than separate entities on the game board, but I’m not sure he’s entirely trustworthy either.
Then again, who here is, other than me? Maybe it’s time I look out for myself first and foremost.
And then he pulls the silk pocket square from his dinner jacket and gently—sweetly, even—he begins to wipe the tears and snot from my face.
After he’s done, he tucks the small cloth into his pants pocket and offers me his arm like the gentleman he most definitely is not and escorts me to dinner, all while his cum rolls down my legs.
We don’t talk as we walk down the hallway and through the corridor that leads to the more formal areas of the castle.
And the butterflies in my belly have turned into the flapping wings of giant beasts, their intent to take me down.
I know it seems silly, but I’m even more nervous now than I was before.
Rhys might be the king, but Saoirse is definitely still calling the shots within the castle walls.
This does not bode well for me even long before we deign to enter the dining room late. She’ll never welcome me or make anything easy for me here, not when she wants me gone faster than it would take to pack my bags.
A set of identically dressed footmen bow to Rhys before pulling open the doors of the lavish dining room to reveal everyone already seated.
“You’re late,” the queen snaps, telling us something we already know as everyone in the room rises.
My uncle and Rhys tip their heads to each other as their status is equal, Dahlia curtseys to Rhys, and the queen holds still, her gaze locked on me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Rhys raise an eyebrow, and she reluctantly dips into a small curtsey, clearly not excited over the fact that she now has to perform such acts in front of me, Rhys, or anyone.
“I’m aware,” Rhys says cooly as he directs me to the only open seat at the table that’s not clearly his at the head. He pulls my chair out for me, and I delicately lower myself, doing my best not to wince at the uncomfortable feel of the reminders of my lesson he dealt me in the hallway.
Unfortunately, the seat designated for me is between the queen and my uncle, who looks at me with his lip curled in disdain.
I let out a small sigh at the sight, knowing that I’ll never be good enough for him to approve of me.
I could argue that it’s not my fault. I wasn’t raised with the training and preparation that Rhys and his siblings were.
I was raised going to small private schools, sure, but never socially elevated like this.
I have no idea what I’m doing here any more than I would know how to swim in shark infested waters.
And still, it would make no difference. Rhys would still insist on keeping me, Dahlia would try her best to shape me into a princess even though those shoes will never fit, and Saoirse and my uncle would rather I be culled from the herd to prevent future embarrassments.
I keep my chin tucked down as I watch Rhys round the other end of the table and sit, his sister and my only friend, at his side. If anyone needs an ally in this room, it’s me. Maybe Dahlia’s on the outside. But Rhys and his stepmother are squared off against each other, ready for battle.
My uncle just looks weary, but… interested in the byplay and what he might get out of it.
There’s a scheming look to his eye that worries me, but I guess I have to trust that Rhys has it handled.
He might hate me, but a link to someone as powerful as Rhys clearly appeals to him.
And just as always, I’m a prop, a pawn, and nothing more than a piece on the game board.
The soup course was being whisked away as we joined the table and now the fish course is being presented. A small plate of cold prawns and sliced tomatoes are arranged like a piece of art and placed in front of me.
“Thank you,” I whisper quietly to the servant. We both know better than to acknowledge the faux pas but I can’t help myself.
I keep my hands folded in my lap, over my napkin and watch those around the table before picking up my silverware. Dahlia looks at me from her place at the far end and winks at me. I smile and take my first full breath all day.
Dinner passes by relatively tamely because I keep my mouth shut the entire time, leaving the talking up to Rhys, my uncle, and Saoirse.
Dahlia and I are just there to be pretty and not starve.
That is until the end of the main course when plates are mostly cleaned, then the real trouble begins.
I realize now that I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security.
“So how are plans coming for the coronation, Rhys?” his step mother asks sweetly.
I tense because she’s anything but sweet and it makes me wonder what’s coming next.
“Fine,” he answers directly.
“I’m sure you’re much too busy to be devoting so much time to the planning,” she says. “You really should take me up on my offer to take over the task for you. You know I have plenty of experience planning state events and I wouldn’t let it be anything less than perfect.”
“I’m sure it would,” he says, and I can hear the turn in his tone of voice.
He’s irritated and we’re all about to feel the sharp bite of his tongue as he lashes out at us with his words like a rattlesnake poised to strike, shaking his rattle at those who dare to step too close.
“And I thank you for the offer, but I find I’m enjoying the planning. I’ve even picked out Stella’s gown.”
My heart stutter stops, and oxygen sears my lungs at his words.
Why he would think drawing me into this battle is a good idea, I don’t know.
We all know that I’m not strong enough to stand up to Saoirse.
I’ve been exceptionally careful to avoid her but if I’m directly in her path, she’ll eviscerate me.
And here he is, throwing me straight at her.
“I wouldn’t waste your time on something so trivial,” she sneers. “Maeve can have something bought from a runway line for her. Besides, she’ll hardly be seen from the balcony seats with the other non-royals.”
“I hate to interrupt,” my uncle says, clearly having decided that Saoirse is not going to be his ally. “Estrella is of royal blood.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rhys says to his stepmother, a cheshire cat smile on his face. “I’m planning on having Stella front and center for the whole thing.”
“You can’t mean to have her by your side…”
“But of course,” Rhys nods. “She’s to be crowned by my side as the next queen of the Isle of Saints.”
“You can’t do that!” she snaps. “It’s against the law to have a false royal crowned and anointed. I could have you deposed for even thinking of having her be part of the anointing alone. Think of the line of succession!”
My eyes go wide because if she’s challenging Rhys, we’re all doomed. Dahlia’s expression mirrors mine and we all look frozen as we wait to see how Rhys will react.
“So, what were you thinking?” he asks calmly. “About the anointing, I mean. As someone has to participate in the ceremony.”
“Well…” she begins, looking nervous, but still committed to her plan. “I was meaning to talk to you about that.”
“And?” he asks.
My heart freezes at the warm look he’s giving her. If I could run away, I would.
“Since it’s illegal to discuss the ceremony with someone who is not privileged to the information,” she starts. “And you’re unmarried, she cannot participate.”
“And what is it you’d like to propose?”
“But I am privileged to know the secret details of such a private ceremony,” she says. “I should participate in the anointing. Think of the proper order of things.”
“You would do that for me?” Rhys asks coyly.
I want to throw up. This must be another facet of my punishment. That if I’m going to act as if I’m easily replaceable, Rhys is going to show me what that feels like and I can’t say that I’m a fan.
“I would do anything for you, for the crown and country,” she says proudly, her chest puffed out and a false doe eyed gleam in her cunning gaze.
I feel like I’m missing something huge as we all quietly sit here, and I can’t help but feel like Saoirse just played a trump card and I’m left with a hand that couldn’t win a round of go fish. Like always, I’ll lose again even if I don’t know what winning means or what game we’re playing.
“So it’s settled then,” he says, clapping his hands and the queen smiles a bright smile that says she’s won the gold ring, the crown, all of it.
“I knew you’d agree,” she crows triumphantly.
“Of course,” he says agreeably. “I see your point. I’ll make the changes first thing tomorrow.”
“I knew you would see reason,” she says. “Then there’s no need for Miss Reyes to remain in residence.”
And just like that, she’s got my bags packed and is shoving me out the door. I should be happy. Going back to America is what I’ve wanted this entire time, but still, it hurts. Whatever they were talking about, Rhys chose Saoirse and not me.
“Of course not,” he says.
“I’ll not let you take a mistress,” she snaps.
Rhys turns his face to me and where his look at her was soft and gentle, the way he looks at me is both heated and loving.
“I won’t need a mistress when I’m married to Stella,” Rhys answers.
“Excuse me?” she snaps. “What about Lady Thomley? Her family has been expecting a marriage announcement for ages now.”
“Then I believe that they will be disappointed,” he says calmly. “And for that I am truly sorry.”
I look to Lady Thomley, and her cheeks burn bright as she looks down at her plate.
To be openly traded like cattle for political gain has to sting.
Then again, I remind myself that I’m no better than she.
I’ve been traded like livestock for an old man’s gain, one I don’t even remember even though he’s my closest biological relative.
My best interest is only as important as what he stands to gain.
I can’t help but feel my heart soften toward her.
Sure, she’s been kind of awful but what if she has no choice?
What if all the monsters here are man-made?
What if we’re all created to play our different roles in the fairytale stories?
Good or bad, they’ve been decided for us?
“You can’t be serious right now?” she raises her voice.
“I’m deadly serious,” Rhys says quietly as he pushes to stand from the table, proving that we’re all playing checkers while he’s playing chess.
“I mean to move the coronation back a few months so that Stella and I can get married first. Then she’ll be well within legal rights to perform the anointing.
You were right to correct my mistake, there is a proper order to events needed in order to protect and uphold the traditions of our great nation.
I won’t make that mistake again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go discuss our impending nuptials with my bride-to-be. ”
“We’re not done talking here!” Saoirse snaps.
“I believe I said we were,” he says pushing back from his chair. He walks over to me to hold out his hand for me to take and I do because even if I’m unsure of my footing with him, this room is full of snakes and I don’t want to be left alone here when he leaves.