Page 5 of Praise Me: Princess
It was too far. I know it as soon as I step over the line, ridiculing her.
The pain and embarrassment in her eyes haunts me for the rest of the day.
three
. . .
Greta
I’ve been lookedupon with loathing and hatred before, but never in my own home.
Commander Larsen has shadowed me since our initial meeting this morning, following me from my French lesson to fencing—which was particularly humiliating, as I am a horrific swordfighter—and he’s stared at me in brooding silence the whole time. By the time I returned to my rooms to bathe and put on my bedclothes, I felt as though I hadn’t taken a deep breath the entire afternoon.
I’m not sure what disquiets me more.
His biblical plague of a frown.
Or the softening of his expression that I notice occasionally.
And I could have sworn I heard him growling when my fencing partner put the tip of his sabre to my neck. It must have been a trick of the acoustics, because the man clearly detests me. I don’t blame him, either. He was brought here beneath the thumb of my mother when he deserves to live his life in peace,his service to the army completed. There might even be a future Mrs. Larsen out there waiting for her beloved to return, while he’s being forced to chaperone me while I overcome my fear of the outside world.
I’m going to be brave tomorrow.
I’m going to surmount my terror, if for no other reason to set him loose.
Even if I must crawl through the castle gates, I’ll do this for someone who has surely sacrificed so much for Leidenstein.
Finished letting my hair down, I draw up the neckline of my nightgown, though it immediately slips back down to leave my shoulder bare. I exit the bathroom and walk out into my bedroom, my steps slowing when the door comes into view. Commander Larsen is on the other side even now, guarding me. He plans to stay there all night, despite my assurances that he doesn’t need to do so.
Hopefully he doesn’t question my nighttime routine.
Squaring my shoulders, I cross to the other side of the room, bracing my back against my heavy dresser and pushing the piece of furniture in front of the door, wincing when the wood makes a loud scraping sound on the floor of my bedroom.
A sharp rap on the door almost causes me to slip onto my butt. “What the hell is going on in there?”
“Nothing,” I call. “Just rearranging some furniture.”
A small pause. “At ten o’clock at night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s just something I do from time to time. When I get tired of the way things look.”
“Oh, you get bored with all your luxuries.” He snorts. “Sorry, I can’t relate. I was only discharged two weeks ago. I haven’t even had a chance to buy a mattress yet.”
No one has ever hated anyone more than this man hates me. Not even the rebels. “I really can’t apologize enough for the delay in starting your new life. I promise I'm going to get you out of here tomorrow.” I get back in position, speaking through my gritted teeth while continuing to move the dresser in place in front of the door, as I do every night, to keep possible intruders out. If only it kept the nightmares away. “I actually really like my furniture. I didn’t mean to imply I was sick of it.”
“You just don’t like its location.”
“Correct.”
“You like it in front of the door, instead.”
“How can you tell it’s in front of the door?”
“Shadows, princess.”