Anti Heiress

Chapter 25

When I wake, the slightest of a headache bothers me. I push my sweaty hair from my forehead. Malissa's body is curled up to my back. I sit up gently, so as not to disturb my head any more than I already have. The smallest bit of sun peeks in through the damask curtains. As usual, my shirt is soaked through. Hopefully, the wardrobe in the guest rooms has something else for me to wear. After all, it's good manners. All the guest rooms at the palace had wardrobes filled with extra shirts, dresses, and robes to make our guests comfortable. 

I get out of bed slowly. Malissa's hand is outstretched as if she wanted to reach for me in the night and then thought better of it. She sleeps calmly. When I look at her asleep, I can almost forget she asked me for a husband the night before. Almost.

I open the wardrobe. There are a few men's shirts sizes too large for me. At the back of the wardrobe there's an emerald housecoat that looks as if it might fit me better. I remove my shirt and pants and change into the robe. It's the first time in months I've worn clothing actually meant for a woman. I've nearly forgotten how it feels. The gold vines and flowers stitched on the robe remind me of the many I owned at the palace. I'd wear them especially when Malissa and Shandi prepared me for an important event and spent hours styling my hair and decorating me with jewelry and makeup. I can't imagine anyone other than Malissa doing my hair for me. I don't remember who did it before her, probably because they came nowhere near Malissa's talent. I tie the robe closed at the front and secure the heavy sash.

I pick up one of the combs from the vanity and pull it through my hair, trying to get it away from my warm forehead. It's beyond me what anyone will make of my hair when I return to the palace. Looking the way I do, no man, bastard or not, would willingly make me his wife. My throne is the only favorable prospect about marrying me. But perhaps the king's son is ugly as well. It doesn't matter, since I won't like him even if he's the most handsome man in the world. 

"That suits you," Malissa's quiet voice jars me from my thoughts. I see her reflection in the mirror just over my shoulder. She sits on the bed, legs crossed, in her borrowed nightgown. A few pieces of hair have escaped her braid during her sleep. Her expression is uneasy.

I don't know how to respond to Malissa. Her compliment doesn't erase anything she said last night, or that she feels she can't have a happy life with me as queen unless she takes a husband. It hurts to hear her in so many words call me useless. I continue to comb my hair. Luckily, it isn't as knotted as usual, so Malissa has no reason to offer to help me. 

Malissa frowns when she realizes I'm not answering her.  "Are you upset with me?"

How can I not be? I shake my head as I continue to pull the comb through my hair. "No, I only had an amusing thought," I lie. 

"Which was?"

I blow air out of my nose. "I'm to marry to give the kingdom an heir. My mother did the same and it cost her her life. No one will care if I die giving birth so long as the child survives. If I'm unpopular, the nobles will overthrow me in favor of my child. I'm to raise my own replacement, my own competitor." For a short moment, I can understand my father, terrible as he was. His position was tenuous, as he had a child who could easily replace him and nobles who could use my youth and naivete to take the power I should have had. Perhaps it was his plan to make me feel as small as possible, that way I never viewed myself as worthy of his throne before it was my time to take it.

Malissa sighs. She looks at me in the mirror, her eyes full of sympathy. "That won't happen to you, Sarina. You'll be a wonderful queen, no one will want to replace you." She herself wants to replace me. 

"If it does," I insist, "My child would grow up without a mother to guide or love them. And who would rule until then? My foreign, bastard husband?"