Secrets of the Crown Assassins

57

I couldn't find the words again. Didn't I have a whole speech prepared? Where the hell did that go? Why couldn't I remember any of it.

Just get to the damn point, Arielle.

"I think we should break up."

The words tumbled out, almost as if they were a weight to be dislodged. They sounded harsh, desperate. Not at all what I wanted them to sound like.

He was silent for a moment. I held my breath.

"Okay."

I blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay," he repeated. His eyes were still glued to the city.

"Just 'okay'?"

"Just 'okay'."

I bit my lip. "You don't have anything else to say?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?"

"Well, it's just—" I paused. "People usually have something to say about this kind of stuff."

The ends of lips twitched up in the hint of a smile. "Would you rather I make a big deal about it? Complain? Beg for you to take me back? Try to make it really uncomfortable and hard for you to actually stick to your already difficult decision?"

"No," I said slowly. "And I appreciate that you're not, but—"

"Or perhaps you would like me to woo you? Sweep you off your feet and make grand confessions of love and throw roses all across your room or something ridiculous that would take hours to clean up. It would certainly satisfy your Fortier need for grand displays." He was definitely smiling now.

"I like you better when you're dead silent," I mumbled. He laughed, the sound raspy and strained but genuine.

I shook my head. "Don't you at least want to know why?"

He finally turned, his eyes meeting mine, and I knew his answer.

I already know why.

He lifted a finger, brushing away a stray strand of hair, his touch leaving a faint tickle against my cheek, like a gentle feather.

"Do whatever you want," he said. "Be free. Be happy."

He tilted his head.

"Be yourself."

And then he turned back to the city, eyes glittering in the moonlight as they watched the horizon.

"I will," I whispered.

He didn't say anything, didn't move, though he looked...satisfied.

I backed away slowly, hopping over the pool and stepping back into the room, walking back to the hall and shutting the door silently behind me. I was standing before his door, once again, alone in the long hall. I had stood before Xavier's door multiple times before, but this was different. Strange.

Most of those times I had been Daria, a girl who wasn't destined to be a Crown. She was just a naive little Royal who was enamored by her childish crush, one that was forged with the only boy in close proximity who was fated to be one of the most powerful men in the world one day. She would walk up to his room, wondering if he would like to train or study or explore and hoping that he wouldn't have something important to do with her sister or his brother or his parents or all the people who would never give her anything important to do. And usually he would have the time and if he didn't, he would make time. Maybe he liked her too. Or maybe he was just trying to be polite. She could never tell.