Free The Princess in the Opal Mask by Jenny Lundquist

Cordon’s teasing voice. “I think your mother’s not the only fine actress in the family.”
    “Yes.” Serena laughs. “But worthings or not, Mother would never send her away, not as long as she thinks I have need of her.”
    Their voices are drowned out by children splashing in the fountain. I lean into the rose bush—nearly getting stung on the ear by an irritated honeybee—and strain to hear them. My stomach tightens. Why are Serena and Cordon resting together on a bench?
    “We’ll have to tell them soon,” Serena is saying. “We can’t wait forever.”
    Cordon is silent for a moment. “You’re right. But let me tell Elara first.”
    Fed up with being able to only hear half of what they’re saying, I stand up and step out from around the rose bush. “Tell me what?”
    But when I see Cordon and Serena’s clasped hands, the meaning of their words becomes all too clear. Small details click into place: the growing distance between Cordon and me, his insistence that Serena has changed. . . .
    I am a blind fool.
    The shock in their faces mirrors my own. “You two? You’re . . . together ? How long?” I sputter at them.
    Cordon jumps up. “Not long, Elara. And I wanted to tell you—Serena told me from the beginning I needed to say something.”
    Serena rises and nods. “Yes, Elara. I was unkind to you when we were children, and I’m sorry for that. But I swear I—”
    “Do you love her?” I ask Cordon, ignoring Serena.
    Cordon grabs my hand, his eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry, Elara. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but . . .” He says a bunch of words, of how they ran into each other one day and suddenly things between them were just . . . different.
    “But . . . I thought you loved me ?” My words come out plaintive, and I hate myself for it.
    “When we were children, I did love you. As much as you’ll let anyone love you. But sometimes I’m not sure I even know you, Elara. I need someone who will tell me how she really feels, someone who will let me in. Someone who will let me love her.”
    I nod blindly because I understand. I am not like other girls. I am broken. I am not normal.
    “But I still remember the promise I made to you,” Cordon is saying. “And Serena and I have been trying to figure out a way to—”
    “What?” His words rip me out of my reverie. “You told her? You told her of your promise?” I look at Serena. She does nothing to hide the pity in her eyes. How pathetic I must seem to her. All this time while I’ve wondered why Cordon hasn’t asked me to marry him, they’ve been meeting secretly and discussing me. As though I’m a problem the two of them have to solve.
    “Once we’re married, you can come live with us,” Serena says. “You don’t have to stay with my parents. I know my mother can be—”
    “I would never be your maid,” I hiss at her.
    Cordon pales. “That’s not what she meant.” He looks at Serena. “Right?”
    Serena pauses before she nods. “Right.”
    “Not as our maid,” Cordon continues. “You could be—well, I don’t know what, exactly, but not our maid.”
    “How kind of you,” I say.
    A thousand knives stab at my heart, and I envision the pain as a small, ugly box—one that I crush with a mallet. Then I imagine stuffing the broken box somewhere deep within me where I won’t have to feel it.
    Tears are prickling my eyes. But I refuse to let them see. “I hope you’ll be very happy together.” I manage to choke out the words.
    And then I run.
     

CHAPTER 11
WILHA
     
     
    G uards flank either side of my family and the ten Guardians as we travel the narrow underground tunnel which connects the Opal Palace to the Galandrian Courthouse in Eleanor Square. The palace is full of such passageways. Centuries ago my ancestors decided it would be safer for royalty to travel secretly underground and they built several tunnels connecting the palace to key sites in Allegria.
    Lit torches line the passageway, casting dim shadows