The Deadly Trials

31 | Princess

// princess //  

When I woke up, I had expected to find a silvery sun streaming through my window, casting shadows of red and blue and white onto a checkered floor. But my eyes opened to relative darkness, the sun trying to shine through my drawn curtains.

I lay there a while, staring at the ceiling.

I hadn't slept well. I hadn't fallen asleep until two a.m., mind whirring. And then I'd woken up every few hours to the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Knowing that all the girls from the Bride Competition were safe clicked a switch in me. I didn't appreciate the deception involved, but threatening us ensured our participation. And for a despairing planet, the Competition acted as the last chance, the final hope. Participation also ensured a companion for the Prince.

Tears sprung to my eyes again. I closed them, letting the tears drip onto my pillow.

That nagging ache in my chest returned. I groaned — it only flared when I thought of Prince Rune. I wanted to ignore it, but it seemed to have every intention to stay.

Huffing, I flung my legs over my bed and sat up. My knees still stung from falling last night.

When I had come home past ten, eyes red and puffy and pants dirtied, Mom had freaked out. She demanded to know where I'd gone for so long, why I had cried, and how could I get my clothes so dirty.

Too tired to give a proper response, I had told her, "I lost track of time, I'm a weepy mess in general, and I tripped. I'm going to bed. Good night."

Still in the synthetic darkness, I opened a desk drawer. I stared into it, tracing the flower's petals with my eyes.

I snapped out of my trance and hopped in the shower. The warm water loosened the tight muscles in my body but the soap didn't heal my scraped knees. Instead, it worsened the sting.

After dressing in sweats and plaiting my hair into a braid, I bounded downstairs to find Mom pulling a sheet of cookies out of the oven and Annalyse stretching in the TV room, music playing in the background.

"Hey, sleeping beauty." My sister smirked at me. "We were worried you'd sleep all day."

I fell onto the couch, glancing at the clock — it was already past noon.

"You probably want a break from dance, huh?" Annalyse lowered into the splits, as if it were as simple as walking. Which, for us Paris sisters, it was. "Unless you're so much of a dance-junkie you're gonna jump right back into it."

I flashed her a small smile. "I'm taking a break. I'm still recovering from homesickness, after all."

"Such a serious illness."

"You try being dragged away from home then." I tossed a pillow at her, hitting her square in the face. She toppled backward, laughing.

"Bell!" Mom exclaimed as though I had committed a grave offense.

"Belline," I muttered under my breath, the correction automatic.

Annalyse stared at me, quirking a brow — had she caught my unexpected reflex?

"Don't throw things in the house." Mom placed her hands on her hips, scowling at me. Then she said, "Anna, you should get ready for dance. We'll be leaving soon."

"'Kay." But she grabbed my hand and tugged me behind her up the stairs.

"So where'd you sneak off to last night?" Annalyse asked as she changed into her dance clothes.