The Young Gods (The Young Gods #1) [NEW DRAFT]

•capítulo seis // chapter six•

Rosa's mother laces her into her corset with enough force to leave her gasping.

She holds tight to the frame of her bed, knuckles white, sucking her guts in as tight as she dares. With each pull of the laces, her waist moves further in. Her organs shift to accommodate the squeeze. Her lungs burn, aching for a deep breath of air.

"Everything has to be perfect," her mother says. "There can't be a hair out of place, Rosalinda. Do you understand?"

"Yes, madre."

"You will be perfect."

"Yes, madre."

She brushes Rosa's hair away from her shoulders, thick brown locks tumbling down by her cheek.

"You're going to be queen." Hands cup Rosa's cheeks. "This is more than I could've ever hoped for you."

The hands slip away. Rosa's mother retrieves a brilliant yellow-gold dress from the bed. She slips it over Rosa's head, careful not to disturb her jewelry.

"Go take a look at yourself."

Rosa nods and straightens, taking in a shallow breath. Small steps lead her to the full-length mirror in the corner of her room, the wood of the frame the same deep brown as her hair. The yellow dress fits her like a second skin, precisely tailored to the shape of her, cut an inch above her collarbone. The gossamer sleeves billow out at her sides like wings.

"Perfect," she says.

Her mother stands behind her, hair pale for an Edeiran's and nearly white-blonde; she's a distant cousin of the late King Diego, whose mother had been a Rubio. Somewhere in her lineage, Rosa's related to the king. Her betrothed.

She's been trying not to think about the details.

"Finally, another Edeiran queen." Rosa's mother folds her arms. "I was sick to death of the Wilshorian one."

"Father says Queen Tamsin was effective."

Her mother scoffs. "Effective? Is that what he calls her?"

"He says she was kind."

"You think kindness is all there is?" Her mother clasps her fingers together.

"I don't understand."

"Think of it this way, child. If His Majesty loved her kindness so much, why is he looking to replace her?"

Rosa presses her lips together. She stares at herself in the mirror again, pink-cheeked and pale-faced. What a question to ask. She's been hard-pressed to find the answer to that query since this whole debacle began. The king could've chosen anyone, but he chose her.

At least, that's what her father says- although he's been notoriously tight-lipped on the subject, which leaves Rosa with more questions and no answers, not as of yet.

"I have no idea," Rosa ends up replying, smoothing down the folds in her dress. "I'm not sure why a man like him would want a girl like me."

Her mother's nails dig into the skin at her shoulders. Sometimes Rosa thinks that there's not a matronly bone in her birthgiver's body.

"You should be happy that he wants you. Happy that he chose you over so many others. Happy that for once in your life, you have a purpose." The gleam in her mother's blue eyes is telling. "The privilege of becoming a queen is never extended lightly."

"Then," Rosa says, "should it be given away lightly? People loved Queen Tamsin."

The gleam is gone. "Why should you concern yourself with love, out of all things?"