The Prince's Bride (Part 2)

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Don’t you mean Galahad?” I snapped. “We need to talk.”

  “Your mother is waiting for me. Let go!”

  “No!” I hollered back, pulling her into the nearest room, slamming the door behind us. “We need to talk, Odette!”

  “No, you need to talk!” she yelled back, ripping her hands from mine. “And because you need to talk, I have no other choice but to hear it!”

  “You have choices!”

  “Really? Since when? Since I got here, my only choice has been to do as I was told by everyone else! And over and over again, I do, without argument. Now I am not even allowed to be silent! I have to talk to you, or you are going to drag me into rooms like I am some kind of child!”

  “I-I’m sorry—”

  “Royals do not apologize!”

  “For the love of God, Odette, spare me the damn rules. I am just trying to speak to you! You! Who I have not had a private or meaningful conversation with for weeks now! Or have you not noticed between all your tutors—”

  “Are you blaming me for having tutors now? Did I ask for them! Did I want them?”

  “God—ugh! Dammit, will you just listen to me?”

  “No! I am sick and fucking tired of listening! To you, to your mother, to this person and that person! I am tired of listening! Who listens to me? When is anyone going to hear me?”

  “Me! Now! I’m trying to listen to you and talking to you right now, but you are not giving me a fucking chance!”

  “Maybe that should be your hint,” she said, and I froze, staring at the tears in her eyes. “I do not want to hear you explain. I do not want to hear you talk because each time you do, you convince me that it is going to be okay. You make me forget that I am hurting, and that sounds great, but it is not. Pain is our brain’s way of telling us to stop. Pain is a warning light, and mine has been going off every day. Then you come along and kiss me or hug me or tell me you love me, and I am stuck. I told you my very first day here that I couldn’t do this—”

  “But you took my hand and followed me here anyway, Odette. You knew it would not be easy, that it would hurt, and you took my hand anyway—”

  “Would you have let me make any other choice?”

  “No! Because I love you!” I wanted to reach out and touch her, but she stepped back, looking away. “And when you love someone, you do not just let them walk away without a fight.”

  “And what happens after you’ve fought and lost?”

  “Odette, how have we lost? Are we not still here? Are we not still together?”

  She reached up, rubbing her temples. “Do you really think I can be your queen? I did everything right today. I did everything that was asked of me. And from beginning to end, did you see how everyone looked at me out there? Did you not see how the prime minister would barely—”

  “I do not give a damn! Those people are not this whole nation—”

  “They are the ones who count!”

  “I am the one who counts!” I could not take it any longer. I pulled her into my arms. She did not back away this time, but she did not welcome me, either. She avoided meeting my eyes. “Even if every last person in this country was foolish enough, blind enough not see how great you are, not to see how much I love you, how you will be an amazing queen, I would still marry you a thousand times. And they will learn to deal with it.”

  “Gale...”

  “Odette, I do not care about what anyone else has to say. Hold on to me, lean on me—”

  “And make you my whole entire world? Since I have gotten here, I have stopped being myself and instead...instead, ugh! I still have dreams and things I want to do!”

  “You don’t think I have dreams! You don’t think there are things I would rather be doing either! Odette—”

  “You again! Why do I have to think about you right now! I am always thinking about you!”

  “And I, you! That’s—”

  “Are you? Or do you sometimes wonder if it would be easier with someone else, with Sabina, maybe?”

  “What?” The way she threw Sabina’s name out now of all times left me too stunned to speak, and Odette used that as a chance to step away. Her shoulders dropped, and the look on her face was utterly dejected. Without a word, she tossed me her cell phone.

  I was not sure what she meant, nor did she explain. Instead, she walked around me and back to the door.

  “Odette—”

  “I am tired. I don’t want to yell anymore, so am I free to go, Your Highness?”

  I clenched my jaw, saying nothing as she really knew how to cut deep. When the door shut, I hung my head, gripping the phone, which somehow made the audio begin to play. Glancing down, I saw a tilted video of the swans in the garden. I had no idea why she was showing me this until I heard Sabina’s voice.

  My mouth dried, and my body tensed with each word. I knew Sabina had to have said something to Odette, but I had no idea she’d go this far. Rubbing the side of my head, I glanced up, only then realizing I’d dragged us into the family portrait room. Of all the rooms, why this one? I stared up at the painting of my brother. The slight uptick in the corner of his mouth and the gleam in his eye made me feel as if he were laughing at me.

  “You told me so, right?” I whispered, glaring at his image. “My past would come back to haunt me one day, right? Well, can you tell me what I’m supposed to do for my future, then? It’s your damn fault I am here as it is.”

  Take reasonability, Gale.

  Grow up, Gale.

  You’re not a child anymore, Gale.

  I was sure one of those would be the way he would have started his reply. I just did not know what he would have said beyond that. So, all I could do was ask myself if this was really love?

  Did I love Odette?

  Yes. The answer was like thunder and lightning throughout my whole being.

  But was my love killing her?

  That answer left me hollow.

  The queen’s lecture was exactly as I expected, polite, stern, and merciless. But for some reason, I did not even flinch. I was so used to it now that her words barely registered anymore. I replied when she demanded, bowed when she dismissed me, and silently walked back to my room. I was sure Wolfgang said something, but I tuned out everyone and everything and walked and walked until finally, I was alone in my room—my cage.

  I stepped out of my heels and pulled the hat off my hair before walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind me gently, and there I saw my reflection but not myself. Turning on the faucet, I let the water run, then moved to the bath and ran the water there. It was then, and only then, I broke down and sobbed.

  I cried so hard my legs gave out, and so I knelt, and I wept.

  The Morning Eagle

  Monday, June 5

  “Trouble in Royal-dise!”

  Inside sources say the arguments between Prince Galahad and Odette Wyntor can be heard throughout the palace.

  Could it all be over before it even begins with the lovebirds?

  We have it on good authority that Prince Galahad has been in contact with his rumored old flame, Sabina Franziska, former Countess of Gormsey.

  The Morning Eagle

  Thursday, June 8

  “Abandoned Odette!”

  Apparently, the arguments between Prince Galahad and Odette Wyntor have gotten so bad that the Adelaar flew ahead to Southern Helmfeld alone.

  Odette Wyntor is left alone in the cold. Sources close to the couple say neither of them has spoken to each other since the garden party and very well may be calling off this engagement.

  It would be the shortest engagement in Ersovian history.

  The Morning Eagle

  Wednesday, June 14

  “In It for the Crown!”

  It has been long rumored that Prince Galahad has been in love with Sabina Franziska.

  However, due to her background, history, and the financial state of the Crown, Prince Galahad was forced into an arrangement with Odette Wyntor.

&nbs
p; The deal was simple.

  She gets a crown.

  They get the money.

  Chapter 18

  Tossing the paper into the trash, I held back the urge to bloody scream at the top of my lungs. Standing at the window, I inhaled deeply once, then twice before giving up completely.

  “It has become clear to me now that I was wrong to put my faith in any of you,” I grumbled through a clenched jaw.

  “Sir—”

  “No.” I held up my hand to stop them. “Do not give me any more excuses, Ambrose. I am tired of them, and I cannot be tired because it seems I will need all my energy to deal with the fact that I can longer trust the people within my own home. Thank you, you may all go.”

  And they did.

  It was only then that I sank back into my chair and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what to do, so I stopped doing anything, and even now, that was working against me. I had left for only two days to go to Helmfeld. I did so to give Odette space, actually. I worried that the next time I saw her, she’d have her bags in hand. I ran away that time, and the paper twisted it to make it seem as if I could not stand her, which then added fuel to the stupid rumor that I was in love with Sabina.

  And to make matters worse, someone had found out about our past deal. Despite the fact that Odette did not want a crown and we had both agreed that this had long ago moved from just a marriage of convenience, lies blended with half-truths, spread by only God knew who. Everything was an utter mess. But the worst, most unbearable part was the fact that Odette and I hadn’t spent any time together since the garden party. We had barely spoken to each other. Dinners were now held in silence. She did her best to avoid me during breakfast, either coming early or late, and using her lessons as an excuse. And it was the best excuse of all because it was sanctioned with the help of my mother. She cared more about molding Odette into the future queen than helping me be with my wife. There was nothing I could do about it, either, but watch from a distance as she moved from one tutor to the next because if I did do something, someone in this palace would twist it so it would be Odette’s fault.

  How could I rule a nation if I could not even get my own damn palace in order? I kept asking myself what Arty would do, but that only showed my lack of capability. I felt the urge to do so much, and yet I could do nothing but what I was told. And all I was told was to follow protocol.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Not now,” I muttered.

  They waited for a moment before knocking again.

  Sighing, I sat up straighter. “Yes, what is it?”

  The door opened, and Balduin stepped in with a stack of folders in his arm. I fought the desire to groan and crawl under the table.

  “Sir, I have come with today’s briefings on the Nationalism Reform Act. However...” His voice trailed off.

  “However?” I pressed.

  “I have just been informed that the king is asking for them.”

  I exhaled slowly. Could there not be one good day anymore? Not even one? Rising from my seat, I put my jacket back on, fixing my cufflinks and the rest of my attire before going to the door.

  “Where are you going, sir?” Balduin asked as I stepped into the hallway.

  “I’m going to see the king,” I said as he followed behind me. “If he wishes to see today’s briefings, I shall be there as he does.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “No, it very well might not be,” I replied, walking up the stairs. “But what choice do I have? Show him fake ones like Arthur did. Did you prepare fake briefs?”

  “Of course not. And Prince Arthur did not show him fake briefs; he showed the king past ones, sir. If you give me time, I can round up some from—”

  “You are always telling me we are busy, and yet you wish to go waste time, looking for briefs from a year or two ago?”

  “True, but sir, what are you going to do?”

  “I do not know, Balduin.” I paused as we reached my father’s wing of the palace, shifting to look at the man beside me. “Maybe I will tell him the truth again. Maybe I won’t. Maybe he’ll kick me out of the room and ask for Arthur. I do not know, Balduin. But I’m going to see him nevertheless.”

  I took the first folder from the stack of folders he was cradling to his chest like they were his children before walking down the hall to the door. Grabbing the handle, I inhaled deeply, adjusted my shoulders, and knocked.

  When the door opened, I saw that my father was dressing in a suit and tie, adjusting his cufflinks as I had done earlier—like he had done a hundred thousand times in the past before getting ready to start his day. He looked so much like he had once looked. So much better that I glanced at the nurse waiting by the door with hope, only for her to shake her head and instantly destroy it. I nodded for her to leave.

  “Galahad?” my father called out, surprised as he turned to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you, Father.”

  “Me?” He chuckled, looking back into the mirror to adjust his tie. “What have you done wrong now?”

  I frowned, of course. “Do you truly believe I only come to see you when I have made a mess of things?”

  “Yes,” he replied without hesitation, turning back to me. “Especially when your face looks like that. What is that matter?”

  “Do you have a moment to spare? It looks as if you are going somewhere?”

  “A king never has a moment to spare. I am to have lunch with the Duke of...” He paused, trying to remember but unable to. He shook his head and then turned to look back at me. “Never mind. Sit, and let us talk. In fact, call your brother. It may do us all good to have a conversation together for once.”

  “Arty is not here,” I whispered, walking across the room to sit in the chair by the window. There was a chess set on the table beside it, a game unfinished.

  “Do not touch that. Your brother and I are in the middle of a heated match.”

  “Yes, I know.” I frowned. “But we’ve never played together, Father? Why?”

  “Have you forgotten?” he asked, now adjusting the buttons on his suit.

  “Forgotten what?”

  “That you hate chess? How many times did I ask you to join me for a match only for you to refuse?” He laughed.

  That was true.

  And then he would order me, and I would still decline, which only made him angrier. So, Arthur would play a match with him instead.

  “Father. I’m—I’m sorry.”

  Silence.

  “Honestly, Gale, what is the matter with you? Why do you look so grim? You would think someone had died,” he replied, now frowning.

  I hung my head.

  “What is that in your hand?”

  I froze.

  This was a bad idea.

  “It looks like a brief folder. Why are you holding it? Galahad, what are you doing?”

  “I do not know,” I whispered. “I am trying to be better. To honor you and Arthur, to honor myself and the person I love and—”

  “Wait. You are in love?” He chuckled. “You?”

  “Is it not possible for me?”

  “Ahhh, so it’s a woman that has you so. Now I have to give you my time, for this is a first,” he said, finally taking a seat in the chair beside me. “Do explain. Who this woman? Do not tell me it is—”

  “You do not know her well.”

  “But, I do know her?” he asked slowly. “Who is it? Gale, you must know, I will not approve—”

  “You already approved of her.” I chuckled, looking at the folder in my hand. “In fact, it was because of you I even went to see her. I spent a month with her, and in that month, I fell faster and harder than I ever thought possible. I was nearly slipping downstairs at her voice, laughing as if I would never laugh again. I was happy, and now you and mother and the world...”

  I paused, catching myself, forgetting that I was ranting to a man who had no idea what I was talking about. I glanced up at him, expecting him to chastise me for something.
But instead, he just stared, his shoulders dropped and his face void of all emotion.

  “Father?”

  He glanced around the room then back at me.

  “Father, are you—”

  “Galahad. How long have I been out of sorts?”

  I did not answer. I could only stare back at him. He outstretched his hand for the brief, and part of me knew not to, but another part of me, the hope that just wouldn’t die, outstretched my arm and gave him the folder. In silence, he read, flipping the page to read more. He read quietly to the end and closed it. Gripping it tightly, he tried to form a smile, but it just looked as if his face was pulled in different directions, one of grief and the other trying to remain composed as a king would.

  “I understand nothing but the date,” he confessed, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And it isn’t the date in my mind.”

  “Father—”

  “No.” He held up his hand. “There is no point in my knowing what has happened. I do not know how long it will be until I forget again.”

  “Right,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.

  “Gale, son...”

  I bit my lip, trying harder than ever to remain composed as well. “Yes, Father.”

  “Whatever you are struggling through, you shall overcome it.”

  I shook my head. “I am unsure if I can. I am not like you, not like Arthur—”

  “No one is completely like anyone. I do not know what causes you to feel inadequate. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was because I failed you.”

  “Never,” I said quickly, looking at him. “Father, never, it was me who was immature and callous, and—”

  “Also, truthful and sincere and trustworthy and loving and slightly humorous at times.” He chuckled. “You have brought me so much joy. Your confidence in yourself was your best trait, which is why it saddens me to see you so.”

  “It is hard to be confident when everyone is telling me that I am ruining the world.”

  “You never cared what people said before.”

  “I could not see what I was before.”

  “And you can now?”

  “I don’t know. That is the problem, Father. I do not know anything anymore. Are the things that I want to do really wrong? Are the others right? Am I harming the ones I love instead of loving them? I do not know.”