Checkmate

Chapter 6

     Marisa and I were placing freshly roasted chicken onto the plates of the princesses in the dining room. Flynn and his parents were seated along with the princesses at the long rectangular dining table, and I fought off the urge to look at Flynn. Whenever I was around Flynn, my stomach would twist. My heart would pound and I hated that feeling. I hated how Flynn had my system falling apart by simply looking at him.

     Straightening myself up, I walked to where Marisa stood off to the side. Her eyes were scanning the crowd, a grim line on her face. I exhaled, feeling exhausted from serving the ten princesses in the room.

     "Do you know all their names?" Marisa asked. "There's so many of them. Are we expected to know all of them?"

     "Um," I said. "I know a few of them." I pointed to Natasha. "That's Natasha. The princess from the South is Amara, the princess with curly hair is Ciara, and the princess from the East is Sakura and..."

     I drifted off. There were so many different princesses. From all over the world, it was hard to keep up with them.

     "I remember princess Saoirse from before," Marisa said. "Guess we know half of them."

     "Guess so," I said.

     I let out a sigh as my eyes went to the table. Everyone was digging into their meal and unable to help it, my eyes went to Flynn. He was eating. But it was clear he was bored as he twirled around a fork in one hand, and his eyes remained on a portrait of his grandpa nearby.

      "Who do you think he'll pick?" Marisa asked. "I think Princess Amara is the prettiest. Those big, dark eyes of hers are to die for and Flynn comes off as shallow, so I wouldn't be surprised if he picked her."

     I grew quiet at her words. My stomach twisted and I lowered my eyes, feeling uneasy.

     "Maybe," I said. "I don't know. I don't really know what Flynn's type is."

    "I'll tell you what it is," Marisa said. "Any beautiful girl who'll do whatever he says. He wants a trophy wife. I can tell."

     My mouth remained shut. Marisa didn't like Flynn and I understood why. All Marisa ever saw of him was his tantrums and rude attitude, but I knew Flynn before his change. And the old Flynn was someone you couldn't help but love.

     "How long do you think he has?" I asked. "Until he has to pick one?"

     "I'll give it three months max," Marisa said. "His parents are desperate to get him married before he's twenty-one."

     My eyes went to Flynn then. Gulping, I imagined him married. I thought about him with a princess, maybe Amara, and they would be happy and so in love. And staring at Flynn and remembering the boy I danced with, of how he was the only man I ever loved, I gulped. Despite everything that happened, I couldn't get over Flynn.

     And as if sensing me, Flynn's eyes flew to me. I froze as our eyes locked and for a moment, Flynn stared at me. His eyes were warm, full of emotions and he opened his mouth to say something, but he froze when Natasha shoved his shoulder playfully.

     "What are you looking at, Flynn?" Natasha asked, snickering. "What's so mesmerizing?"

     Flynn shut his mouth and looked to Natasha. His face was expressionless and I took a deep breath in.

     "Nothing," Flynn said. "Nothing important."

     "You were looking at Helena," Marisa muttered next to me. "I swear this guy has issues. Didn't he cut you off? Why is he ogling you?"