Free Forest Fire (#2 The Legends of Regia) by Tenaya Jayne Page B

his father, Forest noted. Zeren had the same grey in his eyes and the same bone structure to his face. His long braided hair was greying at the top, and his skin was wrinkled with age and decades of worry.
     
    Zeren walked up to her. "Forest, it is an honor to meet you." He took her hand and kissed it. "I look forward to getting to know you. There is so much going on right now. Regia is in such upheaval, but never fear, we shall have a grand party to celebrate your connection, very soon."
     
    "Oh…" Damn, a party. Crap. "There's no need to…"
     
    "I know there is nothing I can really do to apologize for Christiana's behavior. I swear I did not know about it. I am your servant." He gave a little bow. "If there is anything you desire, if it is within my power, you shall have it."
     
    "Uh, thank you."
     
    "Oh, here. I was supposed to give you this." Zeren pulled a sealed letter from his cloak and handed it to her.
     
    She knew who must have sent it. Everything around her seemed to fade into shadow. Zeren and Syrus talked, but the words turned into an incomprehensible murmuring in her ears. She stared at her name written on the paper. When she finally looked up again, Zeren was gone and Syrus sat quietly on a chair by the bed. Hesitation took its time. There was knowledge in this letter. Did she want the knowledge? Did she need it? Or the man who offered it? He had always known who she was, where she was, and this was the first letter her father had bothered to write. The temptation to burn it or throw it out the window, unread, pushed into her hands.
     
    The temptation proved hollow.
     
      Forest opened it with shaking hands. She didn't know if she was ready for this but it was happening. Her eyes fell hungrily on her father's handwriting.
     

     
    Forest,
     
    You cannot know how happy it makes me to have you reading this. I apologize if this letter comes off wrong. I do not often suffer from indecision, but the words I should use here elude me. I am anxious for our first discussion and will be waiting for you in a protected and private place. Take your time and when you are ready, ring for the maid, and she will lead you to me.
     
    Your father,
     
              Rahaxeris
     

     
    Forest took a deep breath. What had she expected? It said nothing really. She read it over twice then read it aloud to Syrus.
     
    "So what do you think?" she asked.
     
    "Seems pretty straight forward to me. He just wants to talk to you."
     
    Forest wanted to ask Syrus to come with her, but pride stopped her. That would look weak. She analyzed her thoughts, amazed to discover the natural desire of a child to please the parent was inside her. Through all of the emotions she had ever had regarding her father—hate, anger, disappointment, indignation, and heartbreak—she still wanted his approval, and she innately knew weakness would displease him.
     
    Why the hell do I care? She couldn't answer her own question.
     
    Well, she knew one thing for sure. She wasn't going to meet her father in her pajamas. She opened the closet and groaned. Nothing but dresses and elegant gowns. Tiny healed slippers, embroidered with designs and shiny beads, winked in the light along the floor. What the devil were those good for except breaking your ankles?
     
    As she ventured deeper into the uber-femine space, she found drawers of stockings, and corsets, and jewelry. A word she had not yet formulated in her mind since completing her connection with Syrus swam sickeningly into her awareness. Princess. She grabbed the skirt of the nearest hanging gown and rubbed the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. She envisioned the grand party Zeren promised they'd have and countless other official functions and dinners she'd be expected to attend. Her heart sank, and the urge to run away overtook her. Fate had made a terrible mistake. She should never have been paired with Syrus.
     
    Forest took a deep breath, scrubbing her hands over her face. These