Chapter 8 The Proposal #2
An image of Brielle, frolicking through the field, bright with life, flashed in her mind. A possibility of more, but then she had also seen Prince Ira there. He and Brielle are reaching out to one another. And the words he had spoken. You are everything.
Was that where this led? Brielle would walk down those stairs and win his heart and everything the magic had promised? Brielle.
“Luci, please,” Brielle begged, tears falling.
It was enough to bring her back to the present, and she quickly wiped at Brielle's tears and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“It’s not love, Brielle. Most likely, he felt guilty about what happened last night and felt responsible,” Luci said.
“By proposing marriage?” Brielle sniffed with incredulity.
Luci shrugged. “It’ll be fine, Bri.”
“I feel like I’m taking something beautiful from you,” she said.
“You aren’t. It was one night. I am not in love, nor do I ever plan to be. You are it for me, Bri.”
Sniffing, Brielle wiped at her slightly red nose. “You say that, but I don’t believe that’s true. Everyone wants to be loved.”
Rolling her eyes dramatically. “And so I am. By you, Calcifer, and cook. I even think Mrs. Blakesley might love me even if she’d threaten me for saying so.”
Brielle snorted.
“There’s that perfect lady, I know.” Luci grinned. “Go, go send away prince charming, or sweep him off his feet if you so choose. The world is yours for the taking, Brielle Treveon.”
There was that smile that Luci loved.
“I’ll probably just send him off. He’s probably terribly needy.”
“Probably allergic to cats,” Luci added.
They shared horrified glances with each other as if that were truly the ultimate fault of a person. Calcifer meowed next to them and rubbed his fluffy body against Luci’s leg in agreement.
“All right. I’ll tell him I will not be accepting his proposal, but that he should go on to have a perfectly lovely life,” Brielle said.
“How reasonable of you,” Luci agreed.
A firm nod and a quick squeeze of the hand, and Brielle was off to break the crown prince’s heart.
Leaving Luci to stare at her black hair and sit on the top of the stairs.
With precisely nowhere to go. A thousand images sped in her mind, and before she knew it, she was anxiously tapping her feet up and down, legs shaking.
What had he been thinking? What were his reasons?
Would he be upset at her rejection? Too many questions and too many possibilities.
If only she could see for herself. It was like the sun’s light had finally fallen over her.
Lady Treveon had said to meet her in the parlor.
The parlor, which was directly beneath Brielle’s room, had a perfectly loose piece of wood that held a small hole.
It was how Brielle and Luci had spied on Lady Margaret and the terrible luncheons she used to host. They would spend hours laughing about the ridiculous posturing and outfits the ladies were capable of until Brielle was old enough to be dragged down to them.
On quick feet, Luc returned to Brielle’s room and leaned forward, pushing the bed with all her strength.
It groaned against her weight and scraped loudly as it shifted just enough so Luci could pry the floorboard up.
Lying her body against the wood floor, she found herself with a perfect view of the center of the parlor.
Right where Lord Treveon was enveloping Brielle in a long hug.
“Well done, my girl. At first, I was frustrated with your method- leaving unchaperoned with Ira and then worse, not returning. I assumed one of your spells came on, and you were forced to leave, but the ends always justify the means, and I can’t begin to begrudge the outcome. Engaged!” he said.
Every word dripped praise, and Luci could only imagine how the words affected Brielle. There was nothing Brielle wanted more than to make her father proud, even if he didn’t deserve it. To hear him praise achievements she hadn’t truly done, nor did she want, must have been crippling.
“Father, I don’t-”
“Nonsense, the less I know the better. The court may turn up their noses and spout their theories, but once you are their princess and next in line to the throne, they will swallow their own gossip,” he said.
“I didn’t-”
“I will go get Ira,” he said, squeezing her once more before turning and leaving her alone.
Luci’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest, and she watched Brielle wrap her arms nervously around her waist. If she could have saved her from him then she would have many years ago, but that was the thing about love- sometimes it was a prison.
That’s what Lord Treveon’s love was for Brielle.
A cage she would never be able to free herself from.
It was too much to watch her stand there and hurt, so Luci opened her mouth to tell her she was there, but the sound of a door opening had her closing her lips tight.
Jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth, Luci pressed her eye against the small hole and found Prince Ira standing a few feet from Brielle, bowing.
Just as handsome as he had been the night before, his brown hair was perfectly in place yet somehow with a casual muss to it.
As if everything was effortless to him, including his perfect hair.
Something flashed over his controlled features as he lifted his head and took in the sight of Brielle.
Luci held her breath as she waited for him to say the condemning words. You aren’t her. But they never came.
“Brielle,” the name was a question and an answer as he scanned her. “Your hands-.”
Brielle clasped her gloved hands together. “Healing.”
He nodded, but there was a tightness in his jaw that said he wasn’t satisfied. It was an effort not to avert her eyes to take in her hands, which held the marks from last night.
“I am honored that you have taken time to visit Blythe. I apologize that we were not as ready to receive you as we should have been,” Brielle said.
She was perfection. Every inch the lady she was raised to be. This was who she was meant to be. Never stumbling or betraying her nerves.
Prince Ira tilted his head to the side, lips thinning. Luci couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew they were tricking him. What would happen if he brought attention to their lies and plots?
“I owe you an explanation and much more,” Prince Ira said, running his hand through his hair.
“You do not owe me anything, your highness,” Brielle said, bowing her head.
He stepped towards her. “Ira, please.”
There was only a moment of hesitation before Brielle inclined her head with gentle grace and said, “Ira.”
It felt as if Luci were watching a play in the capital as they had done ten years ago. A carefully crafted dance with the outcome assured. Each piece led to the next till a neatly stacked plot evolved. Except that was Brielle standing there. Her future is undecided.
“Please, would you sit so I can explain?” he asked.
Brielle’s chest heaved with a long breath, but she didn’t argue as she took a seat on the chaise, angling her body towards where he stood.
There was nothing relaxed about her posture or the way her hands clasped tightly together, likely white beneath the gloves.
Prince Ira didn’t notice as he took the other end of the chaise and faced her, though at this angle, Luci could make out every small detail of his face.
“I hardly know where to start-” he said, running his hand over his face and chin.
“Perhaps, from the beginning,” Brielle offered gently.
He laughed, but there was an edge to it.
“I’m afraid the beginning would be centuries before either of us was born, but I will do my best. It’s the least I owe you.” A steadying breath. “When I saw you last night, I expected - I’m not sure what I expected, only that it was not you.”
Luci swallowed, feeling something stick in her throat.
The way he said the words was nearly reverent, a caress of midnight.
It made her mind cloudy before she realized the words were not directed at her, but more than that, it was just his charm.
The carefully crafted armor was as easy for him as breathing.
“The Cinderella,” he said, meeting Brielle’s eyes.
It was what he had called her last night when they were dancing. She hadn’t told Brielle, and she wouldn’t know the reference. If he didn’t know by now, he would soon enough. Anxiety raced alongside the beat of her heart.
“I am afraid I don’t understand, your- Ira,” Brielle said.
Ira shook his head. “Of course, it’s just when I called you that last night, it was with a hope I hadn’t ever felt before. An impossibility suddenly becomes possible. You.”
This man. If he didn’t get to the point quickly, Luci had half a mind to go downstairs herself. She would have been lying if she said his words weren’t ensnaring her like vines over abandoned shutters. Some magic woven between the words, consuming all it touched.
“The things I am going to share with you-” He tapped his fingers on his thigh, once, twice. “No one outside of my family knows. It is a poisoned history.”
Brielle lifted her head towards where Luci lurked, and for a moment, she wondered if she knew she was there. If she sensed her. It felt like the precipice of something that would change the trajectory of their lives. Something they wouldn’t be able to take back.
“I should tell you that while I am truly flattered and grateful for your proposal, I can’t-.”
“Before you reject my proposal, I wonder if you might be gracious enough to listen to my story. If, after, you still don’t want to marry me, I will respect that. I’ll leave and never darken your doorstep again and do my best to put last night and how you felt next to me out of my mind forever.”