The Puppet Queen: A Tale of the Sleeping Beauty
Page 8
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The next evening, while the rest of my family was at dinner, I dashed off a letter and instructed the dark-haired maid I used as my courier, “I need you to deliver this letter to Lord Gwydion and tell him to hasten his response.”
I wondered if I was doing right. It certainly was not proper, but was it right? Propriety had never been a problem for me. I knew my parents had arranged the match because they thought it best, that Gwydion and I were well-suited. For moment, I allowed myself to fantasize about married life with Gwydion: building a home together, raising children, making love. I flushed at the last. Yet, the pari had shaken me and I was being slowly squeezed by the fear of two years and the smallness of that period. How could something so brief be so important?
A knock sounded on the parlor door and I sat up against the pillows. “Come in.”
I scrambled up to sit as Gwydion strolled into my chamber. He was handsome in his customary coat and breeches, a warm brown this time. My breath caught in my throat. Briefly, I reconsidered my desire to end the betrothal...but then he spoke.
“Now, this was something I did not expect to see until our wedding night. Are we a little eager, Selene?”
“Ugh,” I cringed, my lip curling with disgust. I felt more sure about my decision. This was a man who really needed no wife other than this left hand. I envisioned our marriage again and this time, it ended within minutes of our nuptials, with him killed by me for his idiocy.
“I must say, I am shocked at this sudden change in sentiment.”
“Tell me about that brown-haired pari maid,” I countered genially.
Had I not been looking for it, I would have missed the flicker of emotion that passed over his face. The flash was enough to momentarily wind me.
He blinked slowly. “I do not know what pari you speak of.”
I fixed him with a level stare.
He tried again, stroking my hand gently. “I assure you, you have no reason to fear a…lack of affection from me, my love.”
“Seriously,” I snorted, “do not inconvenience yourself on my behalf, my love. Besides Gwydion, you know the two of use could never last together happily. I am ending our betrothal. You need someone milder, who will not rise to your baits so easily.” And who could not eviscerate and emasculate you before breakfast without blinking an eye. He seemed like the type of boy who could not take a joke at his expense.
His gaze suddenly grew intense and he inched closer until only a breath separated us. My hand crawled to his chest. And shoved him away.
“But, Selene-—” he protested.
“But nothing. Leave.”
He pursed his lips in annoyance, but he could not countermand an order from me. After all, I outranked him and he was a guest in my home. He departed, declaring, “You are still my fiancée, Selene. I will see us wed.”
I rolled my eyes at his back, my spirit rapidly leavening. Finally, I had done something right. Empowered, I set the wheels in motion for a decision that would shape the course of my life.
From my desk, I plucked a peacock quill and set it to good vellum. Dipping the pen in the inkwell, I began to write.
Dearest Family,
I am leaving Aquia for the time being. I cannot marry Gwydion nor can I bear to stay in Aquia, knowing that my birth will bring you all to such an end. Everywhere I look, I cannot but think I have ruined your life—and yours—and yours. I cannot live like this. I must go.
Selene