Free Heart of Stone by Anya Monroe

enter. Marcus rose from his seat when she arrived, and he gave a double take of the woman before him.
    “Cozette,” he spoke quietly, as if surprised to see her before him.
    “I’m so glad to see you’ve arrived home in one piece after your unexpected departure.” She carefully maintained a steady voice as she sat in the chair pulled out for her, next to him.
    He looked a mess upon closer examination. She realized with horror that his nose was badly broken. Although he wore a crisp ensemble, he looked exhausted. She wanted to pull him close, hold him like she did when they were young. Instead she pretended not to notice. Their marriage was not built upon shared experiences, or the recounting of the days they spent apart. Their marriage was built upon the façade of diplomacy.
    “That dress ... I swear I’ve seen it before.” A flicker of recognition swept over him, and he softened as he took her in. “And, pardon the forwardness of this, but your eyes … you look so … so….”
    “So what?” Cozette said, glancing down, nervous in front of this man who once knew her so well.
    “So beautiful.”
    Cozette’s eyes welled with tears; the smallest hint of tenderness from Marcus melted her already dripping heart. Being nice to her now, in this moment, would make what he said next all the worse.
    “Excuse me, Your Grace,” she whispered, as she dabbed the corner of her eye.
                  “Not at all. Not at all.” Marcus watched her as he helped himself to the food held on the tray by the servant behind him.
    Cozette pulled her shoulders back, and eyed him seductively, trying to emulate the girl she once was.
    “We haven’t sat alone in years, Marcus. In over a decade, at least.”
    “Yes, well, I had a matter of some importance to discuss with you.” Marcus coughed, and then picked up his fork, spinning the handle in his fingers, as though deciding how to word his next sentence. “I wondered if we might host a ball. Here. In two weeks’ time.” The words gushed out, leaving Cozette speechless.
    “A … a … ball? Is that why you invited me to dinner?” he sat dumbfounded and rightfully so. A ball? Marcus never wanted to host parties, not even for holidays. 
    “Of course I would need your participation; it wouldn’t work without you. We would be inviting the Nobility from all the trade routes. We need them to see us as….” He struggled to finish.
    “As what, Marcus?” She thought she had an inkling, that he wanted them to be presented as the happy couple they weren’t. It didn’t matter, not to her. She had feared the worst. Being thrown out of the palace and replaced.
    “We need them to see us as the richest, the most powerful, and the most desired. They need to believe their future depends on trading with Gemmes. We need them, but I need you.”
    “You need me?” Cozette spoke in disbelief.
    “Of course. I need you to pretend.”
     

11.
    Sophie
    Montagne North, Gemmes
     
    She packed her bag quickly. Stuffing a few dresses, a comb and stockings in the satchel; she realized in annoyance that Henri stood in the doorway watching.
    She resolved not to speak to him, because what would she say? That leaving made her happy? Because it did. Or that he should’ve told the truth a long time ago … but he hadn’t. No. There was nothing more to say. In a way, she felt relief. Leaving was something she feared she’d never have the guts to actually do. Meeting Miora tonight gave her the motivation she needed to get the Hedge away.
    “Jou-Jou, can I at least walk you to the caravans?”
    “You will even if I tell you no.”
    “That’s true.”
    Sophie turned to face him. She wanted to want to slap him or yell at him or disagree with him. Buried beneath her indignation hid the truth, her sliver of fear. Fear that living life alone wouldn’t be quite as adventurous as life with him.
    “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, melancholy eyes looking at her hardened ones.