Stasia
The next morning, I decided I would be fashionably late. Following mother's orders, I arose out of bed a half an hour later than usual—beauty-rested and all. Matter of fact, the forty minutes of lounging in my bed, and contemplating the thought of running away made my hair glimmer that much more. I would have happily remained yawning at the drapery that laced over my bed posts all morning, but Meredith threatened to thwack me on the forehead.
"Stasia," She huffed and planted me in my vanity chair, "Your father's going to—"
I gave her some choices, "Put my head on a stake? Sell me into slavery? Perhaps, feed me to the wolves?"
She directed the new maid, Irina, to find me something suitable to wear for breakfast and switched her tawny eyes to warn me through the mirror, "We aren't finding out the end of that sentence."
With her worn hands, she knitted a part of my hair into a light braid and let the rest spill back over my back. A part of me felt guilty as I watched her scramble with some powders—she looked exhausted. She had probably been up since the rooster crowed—meeting every beck and call assigned to her. And here she was, cleaning up the mess of me because I wanted to avoid breakfast at all costs.
"I am sorry, Mer," I whispered as she worked to polish my face enough to make it presentable. She glanced over my shoulder and nodded in approval at Irina who held up a long sleeved, sage colored gown. Irina would probably have to dust the thing since I haven't seen it make an appearance from the back of my armoire for a few years.
"Bringing out all the stops, huh?" I tried to make her smile.
She sighed as she looked down at me with the brush in her hand and then said, "Close your eyes, Stasia."
I closed them and felt her pepper something else on my face, and continued, "Have you seen him?"
"No." Her tone was more tired than it was dry.
The brush stopped tickling my eye lids and I opened my eyes to look at her again as she dug through the drawer of nonsense, probably looking for that cold, black paste to pack onto my eye lashes. I couldn't remember the last time Meredith took this much time on my make up—and quite frankly, from the looks of it, I don't think she could name it either.
"What did the doctor say?" I asked quietly. Meredith was gone all day yesterday, going to see a healer she knew in eastern village, Betale, for a cough that had been pounding her petite chest for a few weeks now. It was the first time she had ever missed a time to dress me for a ball—but, I wouldn't have lived with myself if she didn't go. The worse her cough sounded, the more Lyall and I pressed.
She didn't answer but turned around with the wand of dark gunk, asking me to look upwards. She smoothed her palm softly against my cheek bone and tickled both of my eye lashes with it until she was satisfied. By the way she kept to herself and started collecting the powders and brushes without so much as glancing towards me, I knew it was something she didn't want me to hear.
"You know, I'm going to worry about you one way or another," I told her.
At this, she gave me a stern look I did not receive too often, "No use in that. I am supposed to worry about you, not the other way around—that's how it is, and how it always will be." She moved from the vanity to help Irina smooth out the gown on my bed and I followed reluctantly.
"More importantly, what did I miss last night?" She spoke while she fitted my corset, taking a moment to hold the string in her teeth before she started lacing it up comfortably. "Your mother has a chip on her shoulder that's worthy of the King's Quarry."
Where do I begin?
I gave her the important details, not bothering to mention the charm that laced the dance floor and every syllable that was exchanged. Meredith didn't care for fluff, so I wasn't going to decorate the story with it. She kept her eyes fixated on the spine of my corset, lacing each strand with care and comfort as I spoke. "And then I ran out of the ballroom, and he pursued me without consulting his own intelligence," I finished.
For a moment, I paused, wanting to tell her all about what I had seen between Mother and Father. Then, I decided against it—knowing that Meredith could do nothing for it. So, I shut my mouth and saved it for a better time—a better place.
If there was a better time.
"It sounds to me that you just caught his eye. There's no harm in that," She patted my hips reassuringly after tying the bottom of the corset and Irina basket-carried the dress over to Meredith. I lifted my feet as they dropped the shimmer of satin under them and they pulled the sleeves up and over my arms. Irina's delicate fingers brushed my wrists as she tremored to adjust the small frill that peeked out from the fabric on each side and Meredith finished up the decorative corset along the backing.
I shook my head to face her when she was done, "Just because I caught his eye doesn't mean that I should be subjected a marriage."
"Did he get down on one knee?" She put her hands on her hips. I shook my head and her gaze faltered in thought as she continued, "Were you drugged and dragged into a secret ceremony in the last twelve hours?"
My chest dropped a little as I said, "Not that I know of, but I certainly wouldn't put it past investigating."
"Then you have nothing to fret about," She patted my cheek and pressed a kiss to the other briskly, "Now, put some shoes on. If I hear one more lecture about you running around barefoot, I will glue the most dreadful ones to your feet in your sleep."
If there was anything I had learned in my eighteen years of life, it was that Meredith's threats were more like possible truths. And as for this test, I decided against the permanent attachment with the spiked apparel.
I sighed and dug through the chest beside the armoire for a pair of shoes that didn't make my feet scream before saying, "You know, Meredith, people fawn over him and I just don't see why." After slipping on some cream heels, I followed both of them out of my room. Irina closed the doors softly behind us as Meredith and I started down the hall.
"Well, the maids are already fighting over the job to attend to him," She countered, "So, he must be easy on the eyes."
I waved my hand, "He's a shiny, new, wealthy Prince with a pile of dreamy hair and blue eyes that linger long enough to make anyone blush. Soon enough, they will realize his foot is just lingering outside the door and know that he's not a permanent guest."
"All the more reason that they will want be in five-foot radius of him," She noted with a soft laugh.
At this, I felt some relief, "If that keeps him from the likes of me, so be it."
We walked out of my room and Irina shut the doors softly behind us. She kept to herself as I linked my arm with Meredith, resting my head on her shoulder as we walked towards the wide staircase that dropped down to the main halls. Our shoes echoed the halls somberly and I felt the oil-painted eyes of my ancestors pestering me from their portraits on the walls.
"Stasia," Meredith tapped my hand for a moment, "I assume this Prince of Archone is used to getting what he wants, so be prepared to—"
I stopped in my tracks and lifted my head from her in argument, "Marry him?"
"No." She shook her head and gave my hand a gentle squeeze with a wink that was nearly hidden it was so quick. "Give him hell."
Unfortunately, the three of us were standing and sizing up those dreadful, creaky, cedar doors that separated the hall from the private dining room before I had the chance to practice my 'late and proud of it' curtsy. My parents and Nikolai were most likely seated and sharing small talk. On second thought, complete silence was a possibility since my mother was most likely fuming in my delay.
After I paced a little and counted to ten about five times, I finally separated myself from Irina and Meredith's moral support and entered.
Father took his rightful place at the head of the table. It was a shock to me, since the seat has been cold for years. Mother placed herself politically at Father's other flank, across from Nikolai. Father and Nikolai's conversation came to an abrupt silence as the doors closed behind me.
"Good morning Stasia," Father said in a non-welcoming manner, "It's a pleasure that you could finally join us." All previous conversation quickly died off due to my presence.
I brushed off his words with, "I was just pampering with myself with some beauty sleep—I had a night longer than most."
My eyes caught Nikolai's briefly, seeing his flicker, and his lip curled upwards. Making it quite evident that I was not going to return the favor of amusement, I broke the gaze and walked around the other side of the table beside my mother. Usually, I sat at Nicholai's current place, but I decided it would not be proactive to place myself near him. It would only put a damper on my 'Go home and forget all about me' parade.
"It did not seem to bother you from beginning breakfast, though," I mentioned, glancing down at their plates, ripe with some fresh fruit and accented with a pastry. God forbid I start the most important meal of the day on a late note—I think all hell would break loose if I didn't get my juice at sunrise.
Then again, this purgatory is only an arm's length away.
Mother stiffly took a sip of her tea, picked at her biscuit, all the while, keeping her eyes pressing intently into the wall before her. I requested a servant to pile some strawberries in my bowl. "Well," The stiffness in her voice burned through her smile, "Those who arrive to breakfast on time get to eat their breakfast on time."
Father kept his eyes on her—and I kept myself from throwing something at him to let him know what it felt like.
I nodded, slapping on the fakest smile I could muster, "My apologies, I will try to not let it happen again." My eyes caught Nikolai's again in notice of his gentle chuckle, but instead quickly turned to a maid who was pouring my tea. I did not want to entertain him. "Hello, Anne, how are you doing this fine morning?"
She glanced nervously at my mother, who was stiffer than stone, but I gave her a calm smile in reassurance, nodding for her to continue. She kept her gaze, low and retreating with, "Well. How are you, miss?"
"Splendid. Thank you for asking," I winked, leaning my chin upon my hand, continuing, "Tell me, is there something in the tea that's different?" Shedding a curious smile, I observed out loud, "There seems to be a certain edge in the air." Arranged marriages. Abusive husbands. Princes. Name it.
Nikolai choked on his food, masking his reaction quickly with a napkin. Father, with less care, switched his gaze to me without question. Mother, on the other hand, ripped her gaze from the mask of the wall.
"Stasia Brynne," Father spat, putting his cup down.
I looked at him, trying to hide the fear that crawled up my spine as I said, "Kudos Father, it wasn't in my understanding that you still knew my name." Bonus points for my middle name. "Oh, pardon how senseless I must be," I slapped on a smile, pushing the fruit around my bowl with, "I suppose you must have reviewed it when writing that contract that means to sell me to Nikolai through marriage in your free time."
Stay a while—I think I might have one for the books. I caught the mischief that hid behind Nikolai's napkin as he peeked between my parents.
Mother suddenly stood, placing her napkin on her plate with a brief, "If you will excuse me." Nikolai stood first, dropping the smile that curled his lips and nodding to her as she left. Father slowly separated from his seat—his eyes pinned to me.
If she won't fight, I certainly will.
When the door shut behind her, I looked towards Father, knowing that I had just drawn the lines in the sand. I certainly couldn't misbehave in front of the crowds—but I just took a note from his book, poking behind the curtain instead. Dashing my oblivious expression with some concern, I asked, "Was it something I said?"
After a much more silent breakfast, I comforted myself in the haven of the study. I had found the key to this place a few years ago, and I have yet to dust off all of the covers that were lost into the walls. Folding myself in books by the fire was something that usually soothed me, though I had never pictured escaping to this resort when the man of my parent's dreams was just a few doors down the hall.
So, when I heard the door open, inviting the devastating reality to invade my refuge, I did not have to look up to know who it was. "Yes, Nikolai?" No one else would disturb me so soon.
"Stasia," He exhaled tiredly, and I peeked up from my novel to watch him drag his hands along the spines of books, his back to me. "I would appreciate it if you would just call me Kol." I found myself peeking at his hands—the way his fingers moved along the books so delicately made me to remember how his hold formed about my waist when we danced last night.
Blinking from such a thought, I tried to turn my attention back on the book in my hands.
I responded with a shrug, "I'd rather familiarize myself with your real name since I hadn't been given the chance to." He did not seem too enthused by my cold tone but continued to walk around and ponder at the shelves behind me. I did not pay mind to his face, since I was too busy fiddling to turn to the next page of my book. As much as I tried to press my full attention to the records before my eyes, all I could concentrate on was the sound of his fine leather shoes meeting the wood floors—closer and closer.
Step. Pause. Step.
"Care to join me on a walk?"
Pause. Step. Pause. Step. Step.
Rejecting the urge to roll my eyes, I sighed, "I cannot walk and read at the same time. You should know that I am not efficient at multitasking. As matter of fact, I am quite good at embarrassing myself." I was monotone and dry in my remark, yet he still managed to find some room for a chuckle.
I will cut him a bit of slack for making the effort to make me feel comedic.
"I disagree." The second I felt his hand brush along the bend of my shoulder, I whipped my head around to face him. Clutching the book to my chest, I submitted into the stability of the desk behind me, knowing full well that he had me trapped.
Again.
His warm breath masked my face with a blush and his eyes sliced into mine, making my heart pound in my chest. Continuing to overwhelm my comfort zone, he touched a strand of my hair, twirling it about his fingers, saying, "Strong-willed. Beautiful. Intelligent." The slivers of dark blues that circled around the deep hole of his pupil were entrancing and for a second, I would admit that I willingly stared back. "Not the best dancer," He touched my cheek as if he were memorizing my bone structure, tracing my now flushed skin, "But, with time and practice, I can help you improve."
I shook my head, turned away from him put the opened book on the desk to look down and, more importantly, collect myself, "You are not allowed to do that."
"What?" Oh, you know what.
Glancing at him with a scowl, I grit my teeth, "What you just did."
"Oh," His smirk was oh-so apparent in his tone and I felt his hand dare to brush my cheek again, "This?"
I slapped his hand away, "Yes, that!"
"Why not?" He chuckled.
I, however, did not seem to find any humor in any of this, "You know why."
"Because it's affectionate? Makes you blush a little?" His eyes started to gleam in a way that made me want to pound the book into my forehead.
I turned my back to him again, rolling my eyes, "No."
"So, it's all of those things?" He inquired, and my teeth only fixed tighter together.
Curling a strand behind my ear, I turned to brave the connection of our eyes once again. Drop the smug smile, Charming. Molding my hand into an agitated fist, I snapped, "No, it's not. It's invading my space and making me very uncomfortable."
"Forgive me," He said, but strayed to move from where he stood, "Is there any way that I could possibly make it up to you?"
I bit the inside of my tongue and then narrowed my eyes, "Get lost."
"So, I am gathering that you will not go on that walk with me?" He frowned, his eyes darkening temporarily.
I sighed, annoyed with the conversation, "If you're lucky." It was clear that there was no chance of luck ever being in his favor, but the possibility intrigued me. Perhaps, I could push him down a hill for therapeutic purposes. Maybe lose him in the woods somewhere.
"Progress," He smiled and then walked out the door, shutting it behind him.
Running my hands through my hair, I turned to face the desk and ran over our conversation. Everything in me could not help but consider the notion of ripping every single beautiful strand out of his faultless head. But I found myself wiping away the smile that had somehow snuck its way onto my lips. One of these days, I am going to have to put a 'Do not disturb' sign on that door.
But, even then, I feel he would not acknowledge it.
When I had braved an appearance out of the study later, Meredith came out of nowhere, looping her arm around mine and dragged me down the hallway with absolutely no explanation. "Am I missing something?" I asked, but she ignored me, trudging onward. She stopped once the back door was far behind us and we were resting just outside one of the entrances of the hedge maze that led to a private seating area. "Meredith," I huffed as she fixed my hair and took a writing utensil where it was comfortably fitted on my ear, shoving it in her apron. She licked her thumb and fixed the smudged make up that was collected under my eyes from looking down at books for the majority of the morning and turned me around to adjust any lost strands in my braid. I crossed my arms and tried again, "Meredith, are you going to tell me what's going on?"
That was when a certain cackle of a laugh snapped Meredith's hesitation in two.
"No," I spun around on my heel, pairing my wide eyes with Meredith's tender ones. I shook my head and grabbed Meredith's arms, "You're not sending me in there."
She gave a look that was meant to comfort and reassure me, but even I saw the internal conflict she was fighting as she sighed, "I've already given you as much time as I could. Your mother warned that she would come and get you herself."
"This is it, Mer," I panicked, and looked towards the path that seemed to lead to hell itself, "This is the part where we make our getaway—send me to a convent."
She gripped my shoulders and guided my chin to look at her, "Stasia, you and I both know that you would never make it as a nun. Besides, it's an afternoon lunch—not the end of the world."
"It's her," I flared my nostrils.
She spun me around and pushed me towards the path with, "Hold your breath, bite your tongue and don't look her in the eye for too long. Give it a half an hour and then excuse yourself. That's all, Stasia."
"But—" I made effort to turn around and was only stopped by her now, beady eyes that were staring me down. She crossed her arms and raised an eye brow just making me slouch and turn back on my heel to walk through the hedges towards the starchy cushions that were awaiting my arrival.
When I turned the corner that opened up to the creams and pastels that made up the area, I could see the mountain of auburn curls rocking back and forth as she nodded and discussed something with my mother. Her lips, coated with that same mauve shade, paled the powder that always seemed to have a permanent residence on her face. I always wondered if her husband ever saw her natural tones—they probably were beautiful, but Lady Walsh, like everyone in Betale, thought it best to look rich instead. She was of the elite, noble crowd that had their noses sharpened to point to the skies and carried a pile of hair molded higher than their egos. The fact that Lady Walsh had dressed herself for the role of being my mother's right hand truly showed how much my mother had become something I no longer recognized.
More importantly, I was about to get it—all of it—and, quite frankly, I was not in the mood to be told how exhausting of a project I had come to be. Also, how beautiful and broad Nikolai was—the maids made his hair grow enough with that yesterday. This brunch was going to be the cruel and unusual punishment for the week and I just continued to put one foot in front of the other because I feared Meredith would be waiting with a wooden spoon if I made a run for it.
Mother was the first to notice me, but her eyes quickly darted to her tea as she fixed her attention to dilute it with some cream. "Lady Walsh," I greeted with a smile that was more painful than I expected it to be, and her grey eyes darted to look me up and down. Judgement. "I was not expecting you to join us so soon—I thought you were still out of town." Couldn't she just have stayed torturing other people with her presence elsewhere?
"Just enough to be absent for the mess you made of yourself again," She gave a dry smile before she tasted her tea for a moment. Keeping her gaze set on me, she set her teacup down on the saucer without so much as making it clatter. "Oh, forgive me," She patted her lips with a napkin as her eyes spoke different, darker words, than the ones that slipped from now her pursed lips. "How are you, dear?"
The endearment was most likely code for the numerous names she was saying in between her jeweled ears, but I disregarded it. Her flickering mood was ever-present in our interactions—I should have been used to it by now, but if I become accustomed to snake-like behavior, it will provide more reason to get bit.
"Delightful"-ly horrible. I sat down on the couch that was across from them, glancing towards the finger-foods that decorated the table. I knew that I was going to have to sneak into the kitchen later to beg Meredith to whip something up for me since I had suddenly lost my appetite.
The silence hung in the air—holding more truths than I wanted it to. There weren't enough words in this world to give justice to my hatred of this. It was just another despicable moment of embellishing the mask of the 'good princess'. It took everything in me not to fling silverware and play darts with Lady Walsh's hair. But no, I just had to sit here and look pretty all over again—because that was the role I was supposed to play.
So, when Lady Walsh and my mother were tired of their comments about the beautiful and terrifying dresses women wore the night before, Lady Walsh turned to me with, "Tell me of this delicious Prince, Stasia."
Delicious? God, could she have just used another word that didn't make my insides completely turn?
"I—" I felt like my tongue was twisting into knots as I tried to pull something from mid-air. They both continued to look at me with expectation and I felt like my corset was getting tighter with each breath, "He's what I expected, I suppose."
He knows he is handsome and uses it to his advantage. He lies to pursue his own interests and he frequently infiltrates anyone's personal space both physically and emotionally. In other words, Nikolai and Lady Walsh were an introduction away from having a picnic.
"Regina just imagine the wedding," Lady Walsh cut me out with her eyes, touching my mom's hand with a fluffed smile, "It would be so grand—in Archone, with everyone who is anyone in attendance. Of course, Nikolai would look magnificent." If she was so in love with the idea of marrying him, all she had to do was slip something into her husband's drink and wear black for a few weeks. No one would put it past her. She closed her eyes dreamily as she continued to plan my future, "Their children, Regina. They would be magnificent, wouldn't they?"
"Patience," I cut in and my honesty startled me nearly as much as it startled them. They both looked towards me with raised eye brows and their narrowed gazes left a bad taste in my mouth. "I mean," I cleared my throat, "Considering marriage and children is a little premature, as I have not even considered him as someone who I could love for the rest of my life."
My stomach dropped a tad as Lady Walsh's smile disappeared. At this moment, I instantly remembered why I chose to bite my tongue in a five-foot radius of her rather than act like a catalyst.
"How adorable of you," Her words held more venom than honesty. My mother's eyes strayed elsewhere, swimming in the likes of her tea. Lady Walsh lifted her teacup and dangled her eyes over the glimmering rock that was well fitted on her finger, "That you would think love comes with this." She put her tea back down after pressing her lips to the cup, unsatisfied with just that, "Marrying Nikolai is inevitable, Stasia. Should you think any different, you are a fool—consider yourself lucky to have such a valuable matching."
Mother cut in, "She should at least give it a chance." She slumped sourly as she held her teacup in her hands, acting as if the very thought of this situation failing wounded her more than the way father treated her last night.
I was still trying to figure out who Father was speaking towards in their argument, but I had to keep my mind on its toes around Lady Walsh.
"She will come around," Lady Walsh looked at me, hoping that she had towered over me in some way. But the anger that had worked upwards from the pit of my stomach only caused my skin to boil while encountering the stones that embodied her cold orbs.
A heavy breath escaped my lips and I fitted my gaze on some of the potted roses that surrounded us, picking at the hemming of my seat with, "And if I don't?"
Lady Walsh just overlooked by comment with, "You would look lovely in some ivory if you would just keep that mouth of yours closed and did what is expected of you."
"Then, it would all be so boring, don't you think?" I responded, turning my gaze back to her, finding some ground within me. They could play this game all they wanted, but I am not a piece on the chess board any more. Now, more than ever, they needed to start hearing that.
She opened her mouth, but my mother cut her off with a beaming smile as she sat up straight, "Oh, Nikolai, I was afraid you were not going to join us." Lady Walsh smeared on a bright smile as well, looking up at him. I only stiffened when I felt his hands smooth over the back of my seat and brush against my shoulders.
His voice surfaced from behind, "Is Stasia being difficult again?" When am I not? He must have heard some of our conversation from afar—as these hedges are far from sound proof. Although, his tone was meant to lighten the mood, it only revisited the prior conversation and brought another drop of tension into the air. Recognizing my stiffness, he circled my chair and sat beside me, changing the conversation, "I am grateful that you invited me, Queen Regina."
"Of course," Mother smiled warmly at him, probably picturing the two of us at the altar while we were so close to each other. "Nikolai, this is Lady Marianne Walsh, a dear friend of mine."
It's funny. Every time she introduces her, all I can hear is Satan's mistress.
"It is lovely to meet you Lady Walsh," Nikolai gave his million-dollar smile and I just moved my gaze elsewhere, so I did not have to watch her fan herself looking at him. "You must live in Betale—Queen Regina was telling me of it this morning."
Her tone was piercing with joy as she said, "Yes, it is quite beautiful. You must stop for a visit sometime—with Stasia, of course." My eyes darted to her as soon as I heard my name come out of her mouth.
When Nikolai grazed the tips of his fingers along my knee, I turned my legs from his touch as I felt his gaze burn the side of my cheek, "That would be the plan." When I looked at him, his features were accompanied with a sadness and an imperfect frown looked so unfitting for his cheek bones. His eyes were dark, as they always seemed to be, but this time they lacked the determination they had this morning and calmed into a silky texture that made my gut waver in guilt for a moment. Part of me wondered if he could manipulate the tones in his eyes to work for his own benefit.
"Forgive me," I stood, "But, I must be excused."
Nikolai was quick to stand saying, "I will escort you back." He smoothed his jacket and I held the sigh breaking from my lips as I walked towards the path without him. He nodded towards my mother and Lady Walsh, probably kissing their outstretched hands before I heard his dress shoes quicken to reach me.
"Don't you dare try to kiss me," I started, and he was taken aback as a chuckle broke from his lips.
He was beside me, offering his arm with, "I will try my best, but I would not kiss you until you wanted me to."
Lady Walsh was not the only one thinking prematurely.
"So," His arm continued to dangle in the air as we walked, and he gestured towards it, "Are you going to take my arm or let me get a muscle cramp waiting?"
I kept my hands to myself, crossing my arms and looked towards him, "That is something you earn."
Realization dawned in his eyes and he dropped his arm, chewing the inside of his lip as he trailed his eyes elsewhere. The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he transferred his gaze back to mine, "I am still on your bad side, huh?" My lack of response provided him the necessary explanation as I moved my gaze towards the back door. My gaze reached over to the other path that lead to the private gardens as we broke from the hedges. I could see a shred of my dress caught on one of the bushes, bringing me back to the conversation we had on that path.
"Why are you still here?" I cut to the chase, turning to him.
He slowed, swiveling to face me and shoved his hands in his pockets. With eye brows shooting upwards, he shrugged, "Isn't it obvious?"
"No," I shook my head, "The more I think about it, it just makes me believe you are just that absurd."
At the stab, I could see him take a hit as his head hung a little, but when he looked up, there was a smile ripping through his cheeks, "Stasia, you can try to scare me away all you want, but I am not going anywhere." Of course, before I know it, you will have a ring on my finger and shaking a baby rattle as you pick out a room for a nursery in your kingdom.
"Did my father tell you to say that?" I questioned. The echoing of the conversation with Lady Walsh and my mother only seemed to linger and echo in my thoughts—only hearing her words get louder in my head.
You would look lovely in some ivory if you would just keep that mouth of yours closed and did what is expected of you.
There's a part of me that perseveres through the pain of her words, not wanting to admit that they hurt to begin with. But, beauty and a title come with the endurance, I suppose.
He shook his head, "No, believe it or not, that one came from the heart."
"The heart that cornered me into a desk this morning?" I countered. Very romantic.
His eyes rolled as he shifted his weight and shook his head, "Stasia, I am not going to repeat my intensions, as I have made them clear."
"I need more than 'oh, how beautiful you are', 'gosh, you actually read something every now and then', and 'my, my, the way you step on my toes while we dance just pushes me over the edge'," I exclaimed, flustered. His laughter was the last thing I wanted to hear, so when I watched him beam at me, I pinched my nose muttering, "Why are you laughing at me?"
He took his hands out of his pockets, and seemed genuine as he said, "Because you make me laugh, Stasia."
"Good for you, being so entertained in all of this," I spoke sarcastically and then shook my head, "But, that is not why you marry someone, Nikolai. We don't even know each other, and people are already making plans. Talking about how our children are going to be just darling and our wedding would be the biggest event of the year. I don't want to be Queen of Archone when I am barely the Princess of Irklian."
He put his hands up in defense and took a small step towards me, pleading, "Stasia, I am not asking you to be anything but yourself right now." I tried to swallow down the anger that was continuing to rise in my throat and tightened my arms in a fold across my chest. Nikolai took another step towards me with, "I apologize about how I acted with you earlier—I did not mean to be so intrusive. I did not intend to make you feel uncomfortable. Forgive me?"
"Of course, you are forgiven," I pressed my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes, feeling my emotions start to simmer. When I looked at him again, he was standing there, harmless and all, patiently listening to me as I was internally fuming about my mother and Lady Walsh establishing my plans without me. "I'm sorry. It's not you that I hate, but the forced situation. You seem like a pretty decent human being."
His face was softened with a certain understanding. In thought, he rolled his lips together, shoving his hands back in their pockets as he wondered out loud, "Just 'pretty decent', huh?"
"Don't push your luck," I released a breath, and he broke into a grin.
For once, I dared to smile right back.