Page 67 of Princess of Air
“Oh.”
“You’re so hard on yourself, but Bell, all you’ve got to do is exist and you’re the best person in the kingdom. Everything else is extra.” My eyes water again, and I can’t tell if the tears are happy, sad, or some combination. “And frankly,”—Tomas’ head tilts—“you’re making the rest of us look bad.”
My heart lightens with his tone. “Stop making it so easy to make you look bad.”
Chapter thirty-six
My calves ache from the endless pacing, but that focuses me. The betrothal agreements are stashed in my wardrobe for now. I glance that way but still can’t settle enough to read them. Every time I try, my mind replays the scene with Urian, and I find my eyes have scanned paragraphs without me gaining anything from them.
“In the first place,”—talking to myself is an excellent sign—“King Urian has chosen to make an enemy of me, and he will live to regret it.”
Urian’s treatment of me—so bluntly showing that my only purpose is magical heir breeder—might be reason enough for Mother and Father to break the contract. He’d retaliate, though. The last kingdom meant to marry an Alchosian princess is now our enemy, after all.
I still can’t believe Mother was going to marry Kirnon.
One thing at a time, though.
At the very least, Urian would reveal the truth about Tomas and me. I’m about willing to do that myself if Tomas would agree to it. However, I don’t want to hurt Jamys. I cannot blame Jamys for the faults of his father. He can’t know about any of it. Sweet as he may be, he wouldn’t sit by and accept his bride-to-be whoring around, as Urian so elegantly put it.
I consider the betrothal contracts, and a groan rumbles through me. Even if those hold an answer for how to end it cleanly, Urian will make it messy. He’ll know the real reason if I initiate the end of the betrothal. I need to make it as painless as possible for everyone involved.
All I have to do is exist. That’s what Tomas said. What am I when I’m not trying? I roll my shoulders back as I contemplate it.
I’m… I’m the gods damned Princess of Air, and I am Alchosian to my core. Urian hates everything about that, apparently, so perhaps I can provoke him to show it. At the very least, it would be satisfying as hell to aggravate him.
I ring the bell and start searching through my wardrobe. The gowns gifted to me by Queen Anilla now appear to be cages rather than just stuffy, sad excuses for fashion. Perhaps Nina would like to play with them? I push those aside and admire my beautiful Alchosian options. Don’t worry, you shan’t be replaced, my lovelies. Delicate, silky fabrics feel like home.
There is a soft knock on the door before it opens. “You rang?”
“Yes, Lucy.” I turn toward her, chosen dress in hand. “Would it be possible to remove this strap in time to wear the dress tonight?”
“Certainly, but without it—”
“I can manage. Thank you so much.” I shove the dress into her arms, perhaps too enthusiastically, and send her on her way.
In the bath, I luxuriate in the spicy aroma of clove petals steeping in the water. Afterwards, Lucy weaves my hair into a dramatic array of braids, swirls, and fanciful flowers. Topped with a delicate diadem, it should sufficiently remind Urian that I am royalty myself and will not be disrespected. I give Lucy leave to be creative with my makeup, and the result is spectacular. Sweeping shades of gray and blue wash together seamlessly, and liquid kohl lining enlarges my eyes. Sliding into the dress feels positively sensual, and I wonder if I should really be this excited to enrage someone.
I take in the full view of myself in the mirror and can’t help the mischievous grin which crawls up my face. Well, if the sight provokes him, he should have thought twice before arranging the marriage that would install me in his court.
Nina is making her way down the hall when I emerge from my chambers. She looks me up and down and dips her chin. “It would appear someone has remembered she isn’t Cerauno yet.”
“I’ll never be Cerauno.” I wouldn’t have even if I was going to be their queen.
“Thank the gods.” She loops her arm through mine, and we continue down the hall.
“Oh, let’s not bother with the stairs.” I push up the air underneath our feet, lifting us over the railing and down through the center of the spiral staircase.
“I think your magic makes you lazy.”
“I think your magic makes you incendiary.”
“Says the woman who is clearly trying to stoke a fire.” She arches an eyebrow at me, though I know she approves of such behavior.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
She offers me a coy smile as we land and goes ahead of me into the lounge. Jamys approaches from the other side and goes wide-eyed. “Arabella. Good evening.”
His discomfort is cuter than his father’s will be. I feel sorry for his place in the middle of this feud. “Good evening.”