His gaze narrowed. His words were slower and more deliberate as he spoke again. “What do you want with my son?”
She shifted her weight nervously. “I don’t know what you mean.”
But she did know, and so did the king. The entire world was caving in on her—one mountain crashing down on her at a time.
“I underestimated you.” He crossed the room to her dresser. His fingers skimmed over her makeup, left out carelessly by Nora. “Actually, I didn’t even notice you. There was nothing about you worth noticing.”
She watched his reflection through the mirror. There was no reason to impress him or his son. She hated them. “If I’m so unnoticeable, why are you in my room?”
His lips curled up into one of his sickly smiles. “You have interfered with things you shouldn’t have.”
“I haven’t done anything.” She felt defiant, strong even.
“Are you sure about that? You jeopardized the entire alliance between Albion and New Hope.” Keeping his eyes on her, he grabbed a small glass bottle of perfume and brought it up to his nose to smell, then placed it back on the dresser before turning to face her. “But rest assured, it’s all under control now.”
Renna hardly had time to consider what he meant by that when the king suddenly moved toward her, his steps slow like a predator stalking his prey. She reached behind her back, searching for the door handle and a quick escape, but it wasn’t there. Before she could move another inch, King Carver stood over her, his body uncomfortably close and his face leering.
“My son was willing to destroy everything just to be with you.” Gently, he reached up to stroke her cheek. She turned her head away from him, squeezing her eyes shut. Each touch of his fingers caused her chest to tighten with dread. “What’s so great about you that makes a man want to ruin his entire future to be with you?”
He reached behind her head and grasped the hair at her neck, forcing her to look up at him. Her breath caught at the pain. Any second she was sure her hair would be clumped around her feet. There was no way it could still be attached to her head; he was pulling too hard.
He breathed, “Maybe you need to show me what you’ve shown him, so I won’t feel so upset about what I lost tonight. What I had to give up.”
Terror raced through Renna, forcing bile to the back of her throat. She had no idea what King Carver was capable of, and she didn’t want to find out.
“Tell me, what was your aim when you targeted my son? The alliance? Or was it something more? A vendetta against King Bryant and his daughter, perhaps?”
His face was close, but she didn’t let her eyes drop from his. “I didn’t target your son.”
“You would have me believe you’re just so charming he couldn’t help himself? I don’t believe that.” He tightened his hold on her hair. She let out a small yelp of pain—letting him know he was winning.
“You’re just like your mother. Did she tell you how to entrap a prince? Did she tell you how you could someday become queen?” His tone mocked her.
Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Leave my mother out of this.”
“Yes, she’s much too fragile for a scandal like this.” He leaned in closer; Renna wasn’t sure how it was even possible. The scent of alcohol burned her nostrils. “Stay away from him,” he said, his voice dark and nasty. “He may believe he would’ve been happy with you. You may even believe it, too, but I know the truth. I know that you would’ve ruined his future. He will never become king with you by his side, and one day he would have resented you for it.” He released her hair, thrusting her head back into the door with a loud thud. It took all her strength not to rub the back of her scalp furiously.
“You’re an embarrassment.” His insult came with a touch of laughter.
A rogue tear dropped from her eye.
The king towered over her, sinking her back into the wall. She was sure his next words rumbled through the walls the way they rumbled through her.
“You are a liability.”
He flung open her door and slammed it behind him. She stared at the door for a moment, frozen in fear, but his words hung in the air. How could one sentence hurt so much? They were just words, after all.
Renna locked her bedroom door then walked across the room. She checked under the bed as if somehow the king could still be lurking in the shadows, tormenting her. She kicked off her shoes and reached for the zipper on the back of her dress but suddenly, she didn’t feel safe enough to be without the extra fabric. She didn’t feel safe anywhere. Her body folded into the soft bed and pillows. She pulled the blanket up over her head and let the sobs come freely.
33
Trev
The memory of the kiss with Seran tasted bland on Trev’s lips. There was no excitement. No heat. No longing. No tension. Those weren’t the feelings he wanted to feel. Even the delicious food at breakfast the next morning couldn’t get rid of the aftertaste of disappointment. But he’d made a deal with his father and couldn’t go back on it.
One hour ago, he had watched his father write the letter to call off the assassination, then watched him give it to the messenger, an officer that Trev had chosen. He watched the man drive away, finally satisfied that the plans were going to be stopped.
He had done the noble thing, but that didn’t prevent him from feeling depressed.
Renna appeared in front of him on the stairs, and his mood immediately lifted. Somehow everything seemed better when she was around. He couldn’t control his smile or the racing in his heart as he stopped to greet her in the middle of the giant staircase.
“You missed the fireworks last night.”
“I saw them.” Her words were clipped, full of an emotion he didn’t understand.
Her curtness took him by surprise. “Oh. I thought I saw you leave with Drake.”
He wanted to see the different shades of color in her green eyes, but she refused to look at him.
Something was wrong.
“I did leave the fireworks display.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest, finally letting her eyes rest on him. “But I saw the ones later that night.”
The coldness in her voice confused him. “What fireworks? I don’t understand.”
“You know, the ones between you and Seran in the royal living room.”
“What are you talking about?” Tension filled his shoulders as he furrowed his brow.
“Your kiss with Seran,” Renna clarified.
Heat rushed to his face in embarrassment. “You saw that?”
“I wasn’t spying. I just wanted to tell you something, but you were . . . busy.” A tight smile spread across her lips. “I didn’t want to interrupt your intimate moment.”
“It wasn’t an intimate moment.” Not to Trev, at least.
“It looked pretty intimate to me,” she said, hurt evident in her eyes. But then she looked up, the hurt replaced with a coldness that pierced Trev’s heart. “Anyways, I’m happy for you both.” She slipped past him and continued down the stairs.
“Renna?” He tried to reach for her, but she pulled away.
“I’m really busy. I have to go.”
His fingers scraped through the curls at his forehead, pushing them back. “I’m trying here. I’m trying to be what everyone wants and needs. I’m trying to be with Seran. You know I have to be with her, but yet you accuse me like I’ve intentionally hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt,” she said with a smile that looked too big to be real. “Like I said, I’m happy for you.” She took the stairs two at a time, distancing herself from him.
How was it even possible that she made him feel everything?
Trev couldn’t help but think about how much he missed seeing the playful sparkle in her eyes. How he wanted to know what she thought about the fireworks show. How he was dying to find out how the grease had gotten on her forehead so he could tease her about it. How her skin glowed with a touch of yesterday’s sun. How the citrus of her scent would stay with him the rest o
f the day.
Why did his heart have to betray him so completely? Why couldn’t he just let her go?
34
Renna
“I don’t think you should do this, my lady. It will be social suicide.” Nora shook her head vigorously as she sat on the edge of Renna’s bed, looking at the drawing Renna had made of the strapless dress she saw in the magazine.
“But could you do it?” Renna asked.
“Make you a new dress?” Nora looked over at the already finished piece hanging in Renna’s closet, fresh from the palace seamstress. The blue gown was conservative and flowing—perfectly befitting of a young woman, or rather, what everyone said was befitting of a young woman.
But Renna didn’t want to fit in tonight.
“Yes.” She nodded at her maid.
“The ball is in twelve hours,” Nora said anxiously. “And this dress doesn’t exactly fit the modesty rules.”
“But can you do it?” Renna pressed.
Nora started shaking her head again.
“Please!” Renna begged. “I’ll even help, if you need me.”
Nora folded her hands in her lap. “Not until you tell me why you want to do this.”
Of course Nora would want to know why. Renna was asking her to do something risky. To do something that could get her fired.
Renna sat next to her on the bed, still towering over her even while sitting. She started speaking, the words coming out fast and full of condemnation. “We all pretend that the Council of Essentials, that the rulers, are making decisions based on what’s best for us, but they’re not. They only do what’s best for them. Working-class people are starving. They don’t even have the basic essentials in life, but the Council isn’t worried about that. No, they’re worried about rules! Why do a few people get to decide what everyone else can and can’t do? Huh? It’s stupid! I’m sick of them telling me who I have to be, how to behave, what I can wear, how much skin I can show, what color my clothes need to be. Before Desolation, women used to be in charge of things; they ran huge corporations, even countries. There hasn’t been a woman elected queen for more than one hundred years. The Council is slowly removing us. Women are inessential unless we are lucky enough to have the right connections.” She hesitated, unsure how much she wanted to reveal, but decided to continue anyway. “I’m sick of the Council telling me who I can or can’t love. I’m sick of arranged marriages and negotiations.” She looked at Nora. “When did we all lose so much control of our own lives?”
Nora shrugged her tiny shoulders. “And what does any of that have to do with a new dress?”
“It’s about taking control. I’m wearing what I want to wear. It’s only a dress, I know. It won’t solve starvation or elect a queen, but things will never change if someone doesn’t do something. That’s why I want a new dress.” Renna didn’t know if it was a good enough reason, but it was all she had. That, and an unyielding certainty that if she had to walk away from Trev forever, she would do it on her own terms. And she wouldn’t be forgotten.
“That’s what my father always says,” Nora said, sitting up a little taller. “Things will never change if someone doesn’t do something.”
“So you’ll help me?” Renna smiled. “I promise I’ll tell everybody that I did it on my own. I’ll leave you out of it, so you won’t get in trouble.”
Renna must have said something right because Nora nodded. “Okay. I’ll help you.”
She leaned over, hugging the girl’s small body to her chest.
Changing her dress was just one of the many crazy things Renna had thought of since witnessing Trev’s kiss with Seran, since King Carver’s visit, since running into Trev on the stairs. The memories were vicious; every cutting word, every heartbreaking moment, none of it had been lost. Instead, the memories had taken up residence in the front of her mind. It was all there, the highlights on repeat, wreaking havoc on her self-esteem.
You’re just like your mother . . . you’re an embarrassment.
And her favorite.
You’re a liability.
There was no way to escape the diseased thoughts. Instead, she let them become her excuse—her reasoning—for wanting to challenge societal rules.
Renna spent the rest of the day working on her new dress with Nora. It was a good distraction from her broken heart.
At seven p.m., Cypress opened the door in a rush. Renna glanced at her through the mirror as Nora worked on her makeup.
“Renna, why aren’t you ready? The queen is waiting for you in the hall.” Her words were filled with displeasure.
“Tell my mother not to wait for me.” She smiled sweetly—too sweetly. “I lost track of time. I’ll be down to the ball in a minute.”
Her mother would be fine going ahead without her. They still weren’t speaking.
Renna’s dress wasn’t going to help their strained situation, but the dress had nothing to do with the queen. Eventually, her mother would get over it.
Eventually . . . when they were back in New Hope and no one knew about it.
Cypress seemed upset, but that was nothing new. “Very well.”
A dramatic entrance—that’s what Renna was after. She was going to demand everyone’s attention, especially Trev’s and King Carver’s. Nora finished arranging Renna’s hair exactly how she had asked; she had even shown her the picture of how it was supposed to look. It was twisted in a pile on top of her head with wispy bangs sweeping across her forehead. Her makeup was done a bit thicker than usual with bright red lipstick as the finishing touch. Renna didn’t want to miss a single detail.
Now it was time for the dress.
What Renna stepped into was anything but conservative. She and Nora had worked for hours recreating the red dress from the magazine. The one Trev had shown her during the tour of the palace. Nora and Renna had even run back to the artifact room several times to figure out how to replicate it. After hours of measuring, cutting, and sewing, the dress looked exactly like the one pictured. They’d had to get creative with Renna’s undergarments, unsure how women used to keep their breasts in place in dresses like these. She’d also had to practice sitting down carefully because the slit came up so high on her thigh.
Wearing the dress, Renna would show more skin than she ever had in her life—more skin than she had ever seen anyone else show, either. A dress like this was borderline criminal in conservative New Hope. It was even pushing the limits in Albion, but the modesty rules were stupid. The Council of Essentials didn’t follow their own rules, so why should Renna follow the modesty one? That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To remind the Council they weren’t the only ones who could exercise a little bit of will power.
She took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. This was what crazy looked like, but she liked knowing she was doing something for herself.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nora had a worried look on her face, making her look older than her twenty-one years. “We could still put you in the blue dress, and no one would ever have to know.”
This was the first step Renna needed to take to prove to herself she was in control of her own life. “I’m sure.”
“Well, the dress is stunning.” Nora squeezed Renna’s shoulders from behind, the way an adoring mother would. “You look stunning!”
“Thanks, Nora. And thank you for all your hard work today. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Music floated upward from the great hall below. Renna steadied herself on the railing at the top of the stairs—her confidence going head-to-head with her self-doubt.
A hard swallow. A countdown.
One. Two. Three.
Renna’s red, high-heeled shoe took the first step down the stairs.
No one noticed her.
Another step. Then another.
One head turned. A couple more, until a sea of eyes took in her dress and her body. All the pleasant party sounds muted into hushed whispers. Renna even swore the musicians faltered for a momen
t. She scanned the crowd as she slowly moved down the last few steps, not missing her mother’s shocked expression, Seran’s embarrassed grimace, King Carver’s angry glare, and the gaze she anticipated the most: the jaw-dropped expression on Prince Ezra’s face. She had stopped him midsentence.
Seran and Jenica got to her first at the bottom of the stairs. “Your dress is outrageous!” Jenica’s words came out in a high-pitched whisper.
“I thought I would try out a new style,” Renna said innocently. “Do you like it?”
“No, I don’t like it! Go upstairs and change this instant!” Jenica’s face contorted into a pout.
Renna raised her eyebrows at the obnoxious girl. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I taking too much attention away from you?”
Jenica’s eyes went wide as she stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m not worried about me. This night is supposed to be about Seran. How could you do this to her?”
Renna looked at Seran as guilt expanded in her chest. She had guessed Seran would be upset, and rightfully so, but Seran was a gorgeous princess; nothing would ever take the attention away from her completely.
Renna braced herself for Seran’s anger, but whatever the princess felt, she masked. She raised her chin. “There are modesty rules in place for a reason, Renna. I think it is important to obey the rules.”
“Not every rule should be obeyed.” Renna shrugged and pushed past Jenica and Seran and nearly collided with the queen.
Her mother’s tight grip stopped her feet. The queen’s long, painted nails dug into her forearm like the claws of an eagle. She looked like she was going to have a heart attack. Probably fall dead on the floor. Renna wouldn’t even be able to help her, with the way the tight fabric of her dress trapped her legs and torso, keeping them from bending. The dress was that ridiculous; her mobility was a complete hostage to it.
The Promised Prince: A YA Dystopian Romance Page 23