I shivered at the thought.
My mother raised her chin again, putting on her public face, and held her back straight. Unnaturally straight and rigid, like she was stone not flesh. She gestured at Maria to open the door.
“Or perhaps you and Maksim will finally get along.” She chuckled to herself. “Two weeks of peace between you before you say goodbye. Stranger things have happened.”
I was at the limit of my composure and then she had to hit me with that. The room went blurry with my tears. I feared him. I loved him. I despised him. I needed him. The thought of losing him and all those maddening emotions he brought out in me… No, never. Ever.
Maria showed my mother from the room, saying a polite, “Goodnight, Your Majesty,” as she left.
The door swinging shut was like an arrow hitting me in my chest. A powerful, overwhelming wave of grief seized me from head to toe, and I clapped my hands over my face to stifle an overpowering sob.
Maria had me in her arms at once. My knees buckled beneath me and I sank to the floor, held tight as I crumpled into a ball. There on the floor, the two of us stayed, me clinging to her like I was drowning as I cried. And cried. And cried.
CHAPTER 11
Anika
The next morning dawned, windy and dank. I’d barely slept. I was too upset and too caught in my whirlwind of emotions, and I’d also been so stuffed up from crying that I could barely breathe.
Finally, I must have caught a few hours of sleep, because I woke up with the dawn light coming through my window.
Determined to avoid any contact with Prince Galen, I didn’t attend the early breakfast in the great hall. I knew my mother would be angry about it, but there was little she could do—she was leaving, too, and avoiding her as well as everybody else would keep me and my raw emotions away from further pain and hurt.
Maria fetched an apple and some tea for me from the kitchens, as well as a lump of ice from the ice house. Taking turns holding freezing pieces to my swollen lids, we decreased the swelling enough to make me look somewhat presentable. But since the moment Maria had returned from the kitchens, I could tell something was bothering her.
“Tell me,” I said, as I put on my dress, and tried to do something with my hair. “I don’t think anything could upset me more right now.”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m not sure yet.”
Frustrated, I eyed her. But I knew better than to push for information. She never told me anything without being certain. If it was worth telling, I knew she’d tell me, given a little bit of time.
Together, she and I made our way out to the front of the castle to await the departure of the procession. We stood, with her slightly behind me as was the unfortunate custom, waiting for everybody to leave.
I scanned the people who had gathered in front of the line of carriages, but didn’t see Maksim anywhere. That was hardly a surprise. If there was something that we all did for the sake of tradition—like gathering together to say goodbye to someone before they departed—he was sure to miss it. And today was no exception.
As the horses nickered and stamped, eager to get going, my parents loaded into their carriage and Prince Galen got into his.
He didn’t give me so much as a bow or a kiss on the hand. It was as if I didn’t exist. That was fine by me, but I knew that surely my mother would have noticed the willful disregard for polite custom. And it would bother her more than she probably would ever admit.
With that thought in my head, I managed to slap a smile on my face, bowing as the carriages disappeared down the long private road that led to the King’s Highway.
Once they had mostly disappeared from view, I let out a sigh of relief and then turned to Maria. But on her face, I saw pure horror. Her eyes were locked on a servant girl who had scurried out from the house to clean up the horse manure that the horses had left.
I grabbed Maria by the hand. Through gritted teeth, I said, “Tell me. Right now.”
She blew out a breath and shook her head slowly, as if in utter disbelief.
“I heard gossip in the kitchens that Prince Galen spent the night with Nicolette. She’s the sister of a…friend of mine. When he couldn’t find that king’s guard’s wife, he went looking elsewhere.” She nodded slightly at the girl scooping up the horse manure with a pitchfork. “Someone said he beat her terribly. Just look.”
I stared at the girl and saw her face was bruised, her lip fat and bloody. As she leaned forward, the sleeves of her uniform dress slid up from her wrists. Angry purple bruises bloomed from her skin. On her cheek, I would have sworn that I saw a welt in precisely the shape of a leather belt.