Chapter Six
“I’VE BEEN THINKING of marrying Lady Ella.”
The words floated toward me like shards of glass dressed as snowflakes—beautiful and cold and cutting me to ribbons before I even knew I was bleeding.
I could only stare at the sheikh as he stood by the window of his study, his back turned to me.
I must have heard him wrong.
I must have.
Because there was no way Mik’hail would say something like that. Not after everything that had happened between us. Not after the way he had touched me, tasted me, whispered my name like it was the only word he knew.
“Aurora.” His voice was cold. So terribly cold. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I...” My throat had closed up. “I don’t understand, akh.”
The sheikh finally turned to face me, and I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from reaching for him. Even now, even when he was looking at me like I was a stranger, my body still ached for his touch.
Once, I had dreamed of being his princess.
Now I was just the girl who needed to disappear.
“I’ve given it much thought,” he continued in that same detached tone, “and I believe Lady Ella would make a suitable bride. She’s of noble birth, well-educated, and her stepfather is a king.” A pause. “You understand, don’t you?”
No. No, I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand anything at all.
“But you said...” My voice cracked. “You said you didn’t love Aretha. You said there was never any love between you—”
“And there isn’t any love between Lady Ella and me either.” The sheikh’s lips curved, but there was no humor in the smile. “But love isn’t a requirement for marriage, Aurora. Surely you know that by now.”
So this was what it felt like to have your heart served back to you on a silver platter.
How terribly civilized.
Was he saying that what happened between us meant nothing? That all those heated looks, all those stolen moments, all those times when I could feel how much he wanted me...
Had I dreamed it all? Had I spun a fairy tale out of nothing but moonlight and wishes?
“I would appreciate it,” the sheikh said quietly, “if you kept your distance from now on.”
My chest caved in.
“Keep my distance?” I heard myself say. “Is that all you have to say to me?”
“What else is there to say?”
Everything, I wanted to cry out. There was everything to say. About the way he had kissed me. About the way he had groaned my name. About the way his hands had trembled against my skin, like he was barely holding himself back.
But looking at him now, at the cold stranger who stood before me, I realized that none of it had mattered.
Not to him.
The prince had kissed the sleeping girl, and then he had decided she wasn’t worth waking up for after all.
“Very well, Your Highness.” It took everything I had to keep my voice steady. “If that is what you wish.”
His jaw tightened. So brief I might have imagined it.
“It is.”
“Then I have a request of my own.” I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how close I was to breaking. “I would like to move to the dormitory at my school.”
Silence.
“The dormitory,” the sheikh repeated.
“Yes. It’s an all-girls boarding school, as you know. Many students live there.” I forced a smile. “It would be more convenient for my studies. And this way, I won’t be in the way of your...courtship.”
For a long moment, the sheikh simply stared at me. I couldn’t read his expression at all.
“If that is what you want,” he finally said.
What I wanted was for him to tell me this was all a terrible joke. What I wanted was for him to cross the room and pull me into his arms and kiss me until I forgot how to breathe.
But this wasn’t that kind of fairy tale.
And he wasn’t that kind of prince.
“I’ll have Gordan make the arrangements,” the sheikh said.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
I curtsied, low and proper, the way Aretha had always insisted I should.
And then I turned and walked away.
I made it all the way to my room before the tears came.
****
IT HAD BEEN ONE WEEK since I moved to the dormitory, and I had not heard a single word from the sheikh.
Not that I expected him to. Or wanted him to. I might have developed a habit of checking my phone every five minutes since moving to the dorm, but that had nothing to do with him.
Anyway, I was too busy to care, especially since I...had this book in front of me.
Yes, that’s it.
I had this great life that allowed me to read as much as I wanted.
That sounded amazing, right?
But as soon as I opened the book and remembered too late that it was all about two people falling in love...
Nooooo.
I suddenly couldn’t stop myself from remembering the ghost of his hands on my skin. Or the way his mouth had moved against mine that night. My body just had this painfully easy way of remembering everything, even when I was trying so hard to forget.
Some nights, I would wake up tangled in my sheets, heart pounding, skin flushed, his name on my lips. And for one aching moment, I would reach for him before remembering that he wasn’t there.
That he would never be there again.
In fairy tales, Sleeping Beauty waited a hundred years for her prince.
I couldn’t even last a week.
“Lady Aurora!”
I looked up to find one of my classmates rushing toward me, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“There’s a gentleman here to see you,” she gasped out. “From St. Andrew’s. He’s ever so handsome! He even brought flowers and chocolates.”
I started to turn away, but the other girls kept dragging me out of the dormitory.
“Please, Lady Aurora. We’re crushing on his friends, and we won’t be able to hang out if you refuse to meet with him.”
All I wanted was to be alone, but the way the other girls were looking at me with sad puppy eyes was impossible to resist. Anyway, maybe it was better this way.
If news of me spending time with other boys reached the sheikh’s ears, it could make him think I was happy, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about me.
I had already caused him too much trouble. The least I could do was pretend I was...okay.
Even when I wasn’t.
****
IT HAD BEEN ANOTHER week. Two weeks total since I’d left the palace. Two weeks of silence, of pretending I was fine, of telling myself I didn’t care.
And now he was here.
In my school.
Standing in the middle of the visitor’s parlor in his traditional robes, looking every inch the powerful king he was. My traitorous heart stuttered at the sight of him, and I had to fight the urge to close the distance between us and bury myself in his arms.
Silly Aurora.
Silly, foolish girl who still believed in fairy tales.
“Your Highness.” I curtsied, keeping my expression carefully blank. “To what do I owe this honor?”
The sheikh’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t send you here to flirt.”
If only he knew how little I wanted to flirt with anyone. If only he knew that every suitor who came to call only made me miss him more.
But I would die before I told him that.
“Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” I asked sweetly. “Flirting?”
“The entire kingdom is talking about how many suitors Lady Aurora has. How she receives flowers and gifts every day. How she—”
“How I what, Your Highness?” I stepped closer, emboldened by the anger that was rapidly replacing my heartache.
Close enough to catch his scent. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.
Close enough that my skin prickled with awareness.
“How I’ve been living my life? How I’ve been doing exactly what you asked and keeping my distance? ”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “That’s not—”
“You told me to stay away,” I cut in softly. “You told me you were going to marry someone else. So forgive me, akh, if I’ve decided to do the same.”
The sheikh went very still. “What did you say?”
“I’m considering marrying someone else.” The words came out calm and steady, even though my heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe. “There are several candidates, actually. All from good families. All perfectly suitable.”
“You can’t—”
“But I can, sheikh.” It was a miracle that my voice came out soft and steady still, even though all I wanted to do was cry. “I may be your ward, but I’m also from another kingdom, and governed by those rules as well. If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness, I still have to choose from my suitors—”
He moved so fast I didn’t even see it coming.
One moment I was turning away, and the next his hand was gripping my arm, spinning me back around, and then his mouth was on mine.
Oh.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was bruising and desperate and furious, and I hated how my body responded to it instantly, hated how my hands fisted in his robes, hated how I arched into him like I’d been starving for this.
A sob escaped my throat, and he swallowed it, kissing me deeper, harder, until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
“You will not marry anyone,” he gritted out against my lips.
My lips were still tingling. My whole body was still trembling from the force of that kiss. And I hated that even now, even after everything, all I wanted was for him to kiss me again.
But I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
I shoved him away, hard enough that he actually stumbled back a step.
“I’ll f-forget that ever happened.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer, turning to walk away without looking back.
And I kept walking, kept my head up, my shoulders straight.
Just a few steps more, a few steps more—
Finally.
The moment I made it to my room and locked the door behind me, I sank to the floor and just let everything go.
H-How could he have kissed me when he wanted to marry someone else?
How could he want to spend his life with another woman b-but kiss me like I was the only thing he wanted in the world?
And why couldn’t he just choose...me?
I could still taste him on my lips. Still feel the bruising pressure of his mouth, the desperate grip of his hands. And even as I cried, even as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces, my body was still burning for him.
If only he would just let me go. If only he would stop giving me hope only to crush it again. If only I could make myself stop wanting him.
The tears kept coming, hot and relentless, soaking into my sleeve as I pressed it against my face.
I had told myself I wouldn’t break.
I had promised myself I would be strong.
But as I sat there on the cold floor of my dormitory room, crying so hard my whole body shook, I realized that I had already broken a long time ago.
The moment I fell in love with him.
And maybe that was the cruelest fairy tale of all—not the princess who slept for a hundred years, but the one who woke up only to discover that her prince had never been hers to begin with.