Page 22
Story: Princes of Chaos
When we reach the first floor, I’m struck by a wave of unsteadiness. Some of it’s the ache between my legs, the distance between my rooms and the dining room practically a football field. But a lot of it is the sudden swell of nerves about facing the men.
A lot of it is fear.
I press a hand to the wall, breathing in short, panicked bursts, and for a moment, I don’t hear anything at all.
There’s a soft sigh, and then Stella rests a gentle hand on my hip, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I know last night must have been really hard, but the best thing to do—theonlything to do—is to put on a good face and get through it.” When I turn, she’s giving me yet another smile. This one, however, radiates a sympathy I’m not expecting. “One step at a time. We’ll make it through, because that’s what we do.”
The words themselves are generic and trite, but the look in her eyes when she says them…
I suspect Stella knows a thing or two about needing to push through pain.
Taking a deep breath, I nod. I can show good behavior at the breakfast table. Sure, I grew up around the chaos of Family Dinner, but I’d been trained for this. Today is the time to put all those lessons into action.
My back achesfrom how stiffly I’m sitting in my chair, eyes fixed to the box sitting in front of me. It’s big enough to cover the whole plate it’s resting on, wrapped with a golden bow.
“Go on,” Ashby says from the head of the table. It’s startling to see the King sitting there–plate full, cup of coffee in one hand, the New York Times in the other. Even though his gesture is politely encouraging, I take it for the demand that it is.
The King has filled his plate, but the Princes, I’m told, can’t eat before their Princess does.
Pace is glaring daggers at his empty plate.
With an unsteady hand, I reach out, gently plucking the end of the bow. Everyone in Forsyth talks about the Princess getting all her gifts. How they’re elaborate and expensive, indulgent and amazing. The cutsluts love to gossip about them on Fridays as they’re getting ready for the Fury. With stars in their eyes, they always gush over the jewelry, the cars, the flowers, the bling. Usually, this would be followed by grumpy mutters about the Dukes not favoring material possessions, because romance looks very different to a fighter.
I won’t deny being one of the girls who’d daydream. It always seemed so luxurious, thinking of being showered with the Princes’ riches. Now that it’s actually happening, I look at this ornately wrapped box, and all I feel is numb.
Ashby sips his coffee. “Typically, the Princes would give their Princess something truly exceptional the morning after her throning. Since they didn’t have time last night to procure you an appropriate gift, I’ve taken it upon myself to raid the Royal coffers for something… fitting.”
They all watch as I mechanically unwrap it, pulling the top off to reveal a purple velvet box nested inside. My heart sinks, and I don’t really understand why–not at first–but when I pull up the top, my stomach churns with dread.
Looking frighteningly pleased with himself, Ashby explains, “That tiara belonged to the very first Princess.”
It’s gold, with delicate filigree and crystals–maybe evendiamonds–inset like glitter. The center comes up to a curving point that frames a large purple amethyst gem. Around it are smaller amethysts–three of them–and at the very tip of the center point sits another. The metal combs on the back are weathered with age. Maybe it’d be different if it were something new, but this isn’t just any old tiara. This is arelic.
I look up into Ashby’s eyes. “I can’t accept this.”Too much, my mind is screaming. Something this important comes with a price, and given as this is a priceless object, I don’t want to even fucking imagine.
“You can,” he says, lifting his coffee to his mouth. “In fact, it’s one of the covenants that youwillaccept it. This, and all other gifts.”
Strangely, the Princes seem more bothered by the gift than I am, Lex’s expression full of stiff confusion. Pace tries to be subtle when he turns his head, eyes rolling, but even if his father doesn’t see it, I do. Wicker’s face pinches, like he’s smelled something off-putting.
“Er… thank you, King Ashby.” Slowly, I close the box, but his sharpah-ahmakes me freeze.
Eyebrows raised, he orders, “Put it on.”
Flustered, I tuck my hands close, not even wanting to touch it. “But… I wouldn’t want to break it. It’s basically a piece of Forsyth history.”
“No,” Lex corrects me, his amber eyes blazing. “It’s a piece ofEast Endhistory.”
Ashby argues, “Pretty things are meant to be worn by pretty girls,” and stands. “Allow me.”
It takes more restraint than I think myself capable of to not cringe away when Ashby rounds the table, plucking the tiara from its bed of molded silk. It’s almost worse when he’s behind me, his presence looming above like a distressing shadow.
I remain rigidly still, eyes cast down as he places the tiara on my head. I feel the combs making purchase, the prickly tug on my scalp, and force down a shiver.
It’s heavy.
“There,” Ashby says, rounding the table to assess me. I muster up the closest approximation to a smile I can, fighting the urge to squirm. “Aren’t you a vision?” he simpers, eyes sparkling. When silence follows, his gaze cuts to his sons, voice sharpening. “I said,isn’t she a vision?”
A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ follows, each of them unique. Lex’s is crisp, while Pace sounds annoyed.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 185
- Page 186
- Page 187
- Page 188
- Page 189
- Page 190
- Page 191
- Page 192
- Page 193
- Page 194
- Page 195
- Page 196
- Page 197
- Page 198
- Page 199
- Page 200
- Page 201
- Page 202
- Page 203
- Page 204
- Page 205
- Page 206
- Page 207
- Page 208
- Page 209
- Page 210
- Page 211
- Page 212
- Page 213