Chapter 27 CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
ROSALINDA
'She's my ex-girlfriend'
'She's my ex-girlfriend'
'She's my ex-girlfriend'
'She's my ex-girlfriend'
Cyrus's words from earlier rang in my head like a funeral bell, making the vegetable soup taste like bland soap in my mouth. I sat stiffly on the wooden stool. Across the small, candlelit table, Diana sat with her eyes fixed on Cyrus who sat at the head of the table. They were deep in a conversation that resolved mostly about their pasts and Diana updating him about recent things that had happened in her life while he was away.
I had seen Cyrus laugh before, but never like this, not the same way he laughed with Diana. It was a genuine full-bodied sound that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. They chatted with am ease that only comes from years of shared history.
I rolled my eyes and looked down at my soup, the floating, chopped potatoes mirrored my dull, stagnant mood. I felt like a third wheel right now.
"Is anything wrong, your highness?" I heard Diana ask, I looked up to see her staring at me with concern. She was pretty in a natural, earthy way. Her ginger wavy hair fall on her shoulders, her eyes were deep brown that sparkled each time she laughed, she had freckles plastered on her face like the stars scattered in the sky.
She was extremely pretty.
"Yeah, I'm alright," I lied, swallowing a hard lump of pride.
"Is the food not to your liking? I knew it wouldn't be that good. Shall I make something better? I have some smoked trout in the cellar, I can-" she stood up, reaching out for my plate but I gently stopped her.
"Please don't fret. The food is lovely. Just don't mind me,"
"Are you sure, your highness?"
"Yes," I nodded. "Thank you for the food, the clothes and the shelter. I'm really grateful,"
She smiled warmly and sat down. "You're welcome, your highness. It's an honor to help you."
From where Cyrus sat, I could feel his burning gaze on me but I refused to give him the satisfaction of a looking back. I knew what he'd see if I looked at him- the simmering jealously I was trying so hard to suppress.
The food was fantastic, to be honest. Not as fancy as what I ate in the palace, but she tried. The problem was that I was petty. Diana seemed like a saint, and it scared me how much I wanted to find a flaw in her. It was unfair to her, and even more unfair to Zade. Here I was, supposedly a betrothed woman, was feeling my stomach do backflips because my betrothed's knight had a history with a farm girl.
I felt like a horrible person. A royal, privileged, horrible person.
\-
"I know it's not much. But please, endure with me, Your Highness," Diana said as she smoothed out the hand woven sheets on her own bed. She had insisted I take it while she took the couch.
An offer which I regretted multiple times but she refused to back and said she will sleep on the cold floor if I slept on the couch.
"Diana, don't," I said, catching her hand to stop her from obsessively pulling at the corners. "I'm fine. I told you earlier, I should be the one who's grateful to you,"
"It's just....you're used to luxurious things and-"
"I know how to adapt," I cut in, perhaps a bit too sharply.
Her eyes widened, then she broke into a huge, radiant smile that made me feel guiltier for being jealous of her. "You really are nice,"
"Ugh?" I muttered, but she just shook her head and stepped away.
"It's nothing," she said, walking toward the door. "If you need anything, kindly signal for me. I'll be at your service."
"Thank you," I said, sitting on the bed. I immediately regretted the force of it, the mattress was stuffed with straw and lacked any give, but I wasn't about to complain. "Also," I called out as she turned the door knob. "Call me Rosalinda. Here, in your place. I'm just a person."
"But you aren't," she says, letting go of the doorknob. "You're the princess, the heir of the Eldoria Kingdom and the future Queen who will lead the Shadowfen Kingdom alongside the future King," she broke into a smile. "We all heard about the arrangement, and we are more than happy for you,"
My smile faltered. The mention of the kingdom and my 'happy' future felt like a weight being dropped onto my chest.
"Did I say something wrong, your highness?" Diana gasped, stepping back into the room, she hurrier over and knelt slightly by the bed. "I'm really sorry if I did-"
"No, you didn't. You just said the truth. It's just....a lot of responsibility lies on my tiny shoulders." I felt a sudden, treacherous string of tears in my eyes. "It's just the truth of it all. The duty. The expectations."
I was shocked when she reached out and grasped my hands tightly. Her palms were calloused from the farm, but they offered a strange, grounding comfort. "It's barf to be the one everyone looks to. But you'll be okay, Your Highness."
"Thank you, Diana."
She stood up, gave a final nod, and left.
I tossed and turned for almost three hours. The straw was itchy, the room was too quiet, and my thoughts were too loud. My mind kept flickering between Zade's face and Cyrus's face. Finally, I gave up. I pulled a knit scarf over my shoulders and crept out into the sitting room, I hissed as the pain in my leg throbbed slightly. Thanks to Diana who had carefully attended it to it.
Diana was sleeping peacefully on the couch, her breathing rhythmic. But Cyrus was nowhere to be seen. I felt a spike of annoyance- was he out wandering?
As I scanned the dark room, I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.
It was Cyrus.
He was holding a small ceramic pot that was emitting a thin, aromatic stream of smoke, and tucked under his other arm was a disgruntled-looking ginger cat.
"What the hell are you-"
"Shh. Outside," he commanded in that low, rumbling tone that always made my skin prickle.
I nodded slowly, casting one last look at the sleeping Diana before following him out into the moonlit garden. The air was cool, smelling of damp earth and blooming nightshade.
We stood by the fence, the silence stretching between us until we both spoke at the exact same time.
"Why are you awake?" We both asked.
The synchronicity was so absurd that I couldn't help it, I let out a soft laugh. He didn't join in, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to bleed away.
"The cat needed to go out, and the smoke helps with the gnats," he said, setting the pot down. He turned to face me, his gray eyes searching mine. "Why can't you sleep?"
"You answer me first. I'm a princess. So answer me," I said, leaning against the fence.
"Couldn't sleep,"
"Why?"
"I could ask you the same," he countered, finally looking at me. The moonlight caught the features of his face, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. He looked rugged, tired, and entirely too tempting.
"I said don't question me," I snapped, though there was no real heat in it. My bravado was wearing thin.
"Correction," he said, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "You said answer me first. Which now means it's your turn."
I scoffed and folded my arms across my chest, feeling the chill of the night air through my thin shift. "Couldn't sleep either,"
"Why?"
"Answer mine first," I insisted. We were like two children arguing over something, except the toy was the truth and the stakes were the truth we were both trying to hide.
He stayed silent, his hand moving in a slow, rhythmic motion. My eyes trailed to the small animal he held close to his chest with his left hand. The ginger cat had vibrant fur that seemed to glow in the dim light. It stretched in his arm, and opened a pair of brilliant emerald orbs and looked at me. It looked like a small, domestic lion, regal and entirely unfazed by my presence.
"It's pretty," I mumbled. "Is it Diana's?"
"No,"
"Oh. Then who owns it?"
"Its mine. And it's a girl."
"Oh." The word felt flat in my mouth. I looked away, staring at the sky. The fact that Diana was still raising his cat told me more than a thousand words ever could. It suggested a level of intimacy and history that made my stomach do a slow, painful somersault. People don't keep their ex-boyfriend's pets unless there's still something lingering- some thread of connection that hasn't been cut.
I felt like an intruder in a story that started long before I arrived. I felt like someone who didn't belong here.
"What's her name?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent.
Cyrus stopped petting the cat for a monent. He looked down at the ginger creature, his expression softening in a way that he never allowed me to see. It was a look of pure, unadulterated affection, and it stung more than the trap did.
"Her name is Rose."