When she throws open the curtains, I hate that I search the windowsill for a flower.
A flower that isn’t there.
Damn this light and the sun that gives it. “It’s too bright.” I catch the end of my covers and drag them over my head. Why does it never rain in this cursed city? I want it to rain so hard that the streets flood and wash everything away. So that it’s perfectly acceptable to feel this melancholy and remain indoors for the foreseeable future.
“There’s a bath waiting for you. When you’re finished, come downstairs for breakfast.”
“I don’t want a bath.” Or breakfast, for that matter. I don’t want anything but sleep and darkness.
“Too bad. I’m not going anywhere with you smelling like scummy pond water.”
That’s fine with me because I don’t want to go anywhere with her either.
She steals my covers like the irritating woman she is, rolling them into a ball and flinging them into the corner where I cannot reach them without getting out of bed. “Let’s go. Up you come.”
Why must she be so bloody insistent? I push to my feet, my stiff legs refusing to bend as I hobble toward the bathing room where steam curls from the copper tub. I strip bare but as I sink into the water, all I can think about is the way it felt to be in the water withhim. Everett has even taken the enjoyment out of a bloomin’ bath. How insufferable is that?
I hate him.
Tears trail down my cheeks, and I press the heels of my palms to my eyes to staunch the flow.
No, I don’t. I only wish I hated him. Then I could find a way to move on. As it stands, I might never marry.
All I can hope for now is contentment.
Bland, boring contentment.
I slip lower and lower, until water closes over my face and silence fills my ears. When my lungs start to burn, I have no desire to search for air. Perhaps I’ll stay here, where it’s dark and quiet and?—
A hand catches my shoulder, and Nia forces me back to the surface. I blink through the water and my tears, drained of life. Of energy. Of enthusiasm.
With a disappointedtsk, my cousin forces me from the tub, towel dries my hair, and plaits the heavy strands. Back in my room, I stare at the dresses in my closet, not even caring which one I put on. What’s the point? There is only one man I wish to marry, and he is pledged to another. For all I know, he might have married her already.
My hands start to tremble at my sides.
He’s gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Nia must notice me faltering and selects a pale pink gown with tiny rosebuds sewn into the bodice that reminds me of the vines outside my window back home.
Maybe I should go back to Gravale and hide in the mountains until I’m able to exist without shattering.
* * *
I force a tasteless croissant between my lips as we step outside where the sun caresses my bare shoulders, reminding me of the heat of Everett’s lips. Drifting along next to Nia, I barely pay attention to anyone or anything around me.
She stops at a tea house where Trevor and Nolan wait at a table set for four. When Trevor sees me, his face brightens, and he pushes to his feet to slide out my chair for me. He brought a bouquet of wildflowers, their long, jagged stems tied with twine.
He hands me the bouquet with a chagrined smile. “I want to apologize. You were right in calling me a coward. I never should’ve given in to the prince’s demands.”
No, he shouldn’t have. Not that it matters now.
I thank Trevor for the flowers and set them on the table beside me.
Why must there be so many? They feel so impersonal.
Trevor either doesn’t notice my misery or he doesn’t care. He just sits there drinking his tea with a small,contentedsmile on his conventionally handsome face.