Octavia just sits there, joyfully watching me squirm as they plan out my future wedding to a man I’ve never met.
Sweet Christ.
Just when I think I’ve got control of a negotiation, it spirals out of my hands again. I twine my fingers tightly together to keep from flipping the table. My eyes narrow on Octavia. “You don’t actually believe you can force me into a marriage without my consent…”
She shrugs noncommittally. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”
“And if I don’t agree to be led around like your prized breeding mare at auction?”
“Then you don’t get your guards. You don’t get your freedom. You don’t get your letter of pardon. And I willpersonallyensure that your beloved Mr. Harding is the one to suffer the consequences of your insolence.”
I bite my lip.
Octavia’s eyes gleam. She knows she’s got me in a corner. “So. Are we in agreement?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I pause a beat, praying I’m not about to damn myself, and finally nod.
“Excellent!” Simms exclaims.
“So much to do!” Lady Morrell looks suddenly troubled. “You’ll be appearing at the Remembrance Day ceremonies tomorrow to commemorate the opening of the capital’s new military hospital. We’ll need someone to do your hair. And you’ll require an appropriate dress… Perhaps a grey shift paired with a sensible pump…”
“You will, of course, be given scripts for all public appearances. And you will follow themto the word.” Octavia’s voice reverberates with wrath. This negotiation is grating on her last nerve. “Seeing as you cannot be trusted to speak in public without proper guidance.”
“No.”
She stills. “Excuse me?”
“N. O.No.” I smile beatifically. “Which letter did you not understand?”
“But Princess Emilia,” Simms tries to intercede, but I’m done listening.
“No. I won’t be reading any scripts. By all means, you may advise me, debrief me, guide me with fair and balanced council… but my words are my own. My thoughts are my own. My actions are my own. I am not a puppet to be steered by your strings, or an actress to be directed with a set of memorized lines.”
Silence descends.
“Now, if we’re done here…” I rise to my feet and head for the door. Much to my displeasure, Octavia’s voice catches up to me before I can slip out.
“A word of advice, girl — you won’t win at this game. Not against me. I suggest you stop trying. Forfeit now and you might manage to salvage some of your life when this is all over.”
I don’t bother responding.
Stop trying?
Forfeit?
Please.
I let the door close with a resounding bang at my back. My angry strides eat up the hallway; I’m all too eager to put distance between myself and Octavia. Her warning rings in my ears with each step.
You won’t win at this game.
This royal chess match we’re engaged in is complex and confusing. I’m still learning the rules, a lost pawn battling against a lethal queen. Bound to make mistakes along the way.
Today, I didn’t get everything I wanted. But with each new round, I’m getting better at maneuvering the pieces. I’m learning to strategize. To play smart.
And one day, I swear…
I’m going to knock her off the board.