“Fine,” he said curtly, but his voice hitched and gurgled from continued crying. He cleared his throat and turned his head.
“Shao.”
Abruptly, Shao stood up, and my jaw slackened. I gripped the edge of the table. How could I help this poor man?
He snatched me from my seat into a gentle hug mid-air; I could no longer feel the ground.
Shocked, I lifted my feet as I squeezed my arms around Shao’s broad shoulders. He spun me around as easily as if I were feathers.
“Shao?” I yelped. Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t this.
He felt feverishly hot—or perhaps that was me—and his quick, thudding heartbeats felt comforting yet strange. My own heartbeats surged to mirror his.
“Thank you,” he said, giving me a second spin. Heat enflamed my cheeks—no, every inch of my skin. I tried to convince myself it was due to all the spinning… but it wasn’t, and even I couldn’t believe such a blatant lie. “Thank you, Beatrice, thank you.”
“If you’re happy, what’s with all the tears?” I tried to smile but felt too light-headed.
“Because I’m stunned,” Shao replied. “I shouldn’t be, but I am. I’m grateful, Beatrice, beyond my ability to express it. Thanks to you, I’ve read the letters—thanks to you, I’m starting to understand my sister. My family.”
“Shao…” My voice was a low whisper, because in my addle-brained state, feeling Shao’s strong arms against me, I couldn’t manage anything more. “Y-you flatter me too much. It was all you, you know. All you and your sister.”
“It’s not flattery if you deserve it,” Shao said, and lowered me the tiniest bit until our eyes were level with each other for the first time.
His gaze locked on my lips; as if entranced, he began leaning closer, dipping me backwards slightly by the bend of my back.
I found myself holding my breath; my lashes fluttered closed when he was a breath away from me. My attention wandered from the warmth of his embrace to our soaring heartbeats. I felt hot breaths against my lips that caused me to melt.
Only to be let back down.
His arms disappeared from my waist as quickly as they’d picked me up, and I glared up at him, the flush of my cheeks growing with distressed shock rather than excitement. My jaw dropped.
Had I misread him?
But I… I…
I couldn’t have, right?
Shame branded itself into my spine, and an ugly squawk tore out my throat.
Unable to endure any more of this humiliation, I swung away to sprint out to a bedroom; Shao seized my hand to stop me, and I snatched it away from his grip, desperately trying not to cry.
“Please, don’t misunderstand,” he pleaded.
“What’s there to misunderstand?” I snapped, all the hurt transparent in my tone. “Are you going to tell me it’s you, not me or something? Classic line. Worthless. Don’t bother. I’m sorry that I got caught up in the moment.”
“I—” He averted his eyes, and I knew I’d hit the bullseye. I wanted to throw up. “You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?” I cried. “I thought—I thought—” I refused to continue. I was already mortified enough.
What had I thought?
How could I have assumed he was going to kiss me?
I didn’t deserve that, and that was clear as day. I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve anyone, much less anyone as kind or understanding as him.
I should have known that.
Should have remembered my worth—or lack thereof.
Shao’s kindness, and our brief moments of tenderness, had caused me to forget.
I’d never forget again.
“Beatrice!” Shao cried, and I realized he’d moved to the front of me again, blocking my path. “Do I have your attention? I’ve been calling out your name for so long—”
“What even do you have to say?” I forced myself to say. “I get it. I get it, okay? I’m leaving soon anyway, and then we can forget any of this ever happened.”
“Beatrice, no,” he said. “I mean, yes, but—”
I didn’t know how to respond to his confirmation, and I released a strangled noise that could have been a laugh or a sob.
“I don’t deserve you!” Shao snapped, and this time, I laughed without a shadow of a doubt.
“You’re kidding,” I said. “It’s not funny.”
“Beatrice,” he said, bending down to look me in my eyes again. I bit my lip. “What do you even know about me?”
Huffing, I replied, “You’re the one hiding secrets from me.”
“I am,” Shao replied, “and have you never wondered why?”
I stared back at him blankly, unsure what he wanted me to respond. I didn’t even know what I thought myself; my brain was too wrapped up in my rejection and heartbreak.
Shao shook his head. His grip on the edge of the desk tightened.
“I want to deserve you,” he said. “I do—but I never can.”
“Explain why, then!” I shouted despite myself. There was nothing I wanted to hear more than sweet lies. I hated his wishy-washy attitude, but it gave me much-needed hope that reeked of impending despair, and I wanted to blanket myself with it.
Of course, it had to be now that I realized the depth of my feelings for Shao.
Was it a crush? Or love?
I couldn’t tell, but I knew I wanted to bask in his company for the rest of my life. I knew I wanted to treasure him—and for him to treasure me.
I knew I wanted to have him all to myself. I knew it would break me to see him so much as glance longingly towards another woman.
The fact that he didn’t seem to feel the same way shattered me, and I was desperate to seize any chance, no matter how small, that he wasn’t completely apathetic towards me in that way.
Shao was silent, and I cried, “If you feel an ounce of anything towards me, why won’t you fight for me?”
He swallowed. “I’ve told you why. You deserve someone better.”
“I deserve someone I lo—” I stopped, unable to confess to the man who’d rejected me, then kept me here so he could tear me apart some more.
“I deserve someone who treasures me,” I said instead. “That’s all I need. Are you saying that’s too high a bar for you?”
“No,” Shao whispered. “No, but I’ve deceived you, and that’s a sin I can never overcome.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?” I snapped. “Tell me the truth, then! Tell me what’s bothering you, and why you introduced yourself as Shao, when your name is really Asha.” I paused. “Who are you?”
Shao’s breathing grew unsteady as he buried his face in his palms.
“There’s so much to say,” he groaned. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start with your name,” I ordered. I felt something ooze from my palms where my nails were still digging, and I wondered if it was blood.
I refused to check.
Shao tried to laugh, but it came out strange and strained. “That’s the easiest one. Shao was my childhood nickname, although my birth name is Asha. My mother and caretakers called me Shao… I think I wanted to return to the past when I introduced myself with that name.” He shrugged limply. “Plus, I figured it would help conceal my identity, although it doesn’t seem like you recognize my true name regardless.”
He snapped his gaze back up to mine, almost imploringly. Desperately.
“Please.” Shao collapsed to his knees. “Tell me you realized my identity, and that you feigned ignorance to let me tell you at my own time.”
I wished I could nod, but I had no idea what he was talking about.
Seeing the confusion in my eyes, Shao averted his gaze, his disappointment evident.
Was he disappointed at me or himself?
He tried to straighten his back, but his spine remained stooped, his shoulders scrunched down. “Four siblings, three of them cursed. The names Asha, Isabella, and Sol—short for Solien. A missing mother a
nd son. Did none of that ring any bells?”
I froze.
Everything he mentioned sounded terrifyingly familiar when he listed them together. It was absurd how obvious the truth was. Was it a secret if I should’ve figured it out months ago?
Maybe there was a reason I’d never realized it.
I didn’t want it to be true.
Terrified of realizing the implications, I shut my mind down and struggled to keep myself oblivious.
But why? Shao’s identity shouldn’t have mattered. It didn’t affect me in any way. He was a dear friend, and his father had disowned him. What would his identity change?
“You understand now, don’t you?” He said softly. I didn’t respond.
How could I have, when he was—
“I am Prince Asha Villeneuve, and I was the original Crown Prince of Perintas.”
Oh.
Oh.
I believed him, and that was the worst part.
“Before you were cursed,” I whispered. He nodded.
“One by one, my siblings and I were cursed, so my father adopted Sol to take over the throne in the future.”
“Why did you hide it from me?” I asked. My hand touched the skin protecting my heart, and I willed myself to calm down. Of all secrets, this wasn’t so bad… and I didn’t understand why he’d rejected me.
Was he saving all his kisses for some princess in the future he’d be engaged to if he were ever freed from his curse?
“At first, it was because it would bring shame to my family if anyone found out,” he said. “After I got to know you better, I wanted to tell you, but… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I kept hoping you’d figure it out yourself, especially after my siblings visited, so that I could casually acknowledge it as if it wasn’t a big deal. But you never did, and I never mustered the courage.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt.
“Is that why you can’t be with me?” I asked. “Because… that’s not that bad. I understand why you kept it from me, and you’re right. I should have figured it out.”
Shao exhaled. “I have one more secret—and this one’s far, far, worse,” he said, and I wanted to scream.
“I’m so, so sorry.” A muscle jumped in Shao’s jaw. “Over the months, I convinced myself you could never fall for me. I thought—”
“Spit it out,” I sobbed.
Shao opened his mouth to speak; a slam reverberated through the room as the doors thudded open behind me.
I twisted back, a scowl distorting my face, and came face-to-face with Shao’s two siblings.
Prince Solien and Princess Isabella.
Their demeanors and mannerisms made far more sense now that I knew who they were. Who had more eyes on them, and a tighter leash of expectations, than the princess and the new crown prince?
I dipped into a curtsy out of obligation. I knew my corrupted feelings towards Shao shouldn’t affect my opinion on them, but I saw Shao’s features in theirs, and I couldn’t help myself from feeling a knife edge of betrayal gliding across my skin.
“Beatrice!” Princess Isabella said. “You’re here, too?” Her eyes widened with delight and surprise, and I wished I felt the same way towards her. Noticing my pause, she narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “Prince Asha here was telling me about his identity.”
Prince Solien and Princess Isabella glanced at each other, nervousness hinted in the straight lines of their lips, and I sighed.
“You wanted to speak with Shao, didn’t you?” I asked. “Go ahead. It’s late, and I need some rest.”
“I wanted to speak with you, too,” Princess Isabella said, grabbing her elbow. “The cure… we’ve agreed to give one to your father. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Unless…”
She gestured towards Shao, and I had no doubt she was asking if I wanted to spend some more time with him first. Clear up any misunderstandings.
But what was there to misunderstand when the barbs in my heart were his truths?
I should have felt gleeful and proud beyond words… and yet the success ringing in my chest felt hollow and empty without Shao to cheer with.
If anything, the disparity in the accessibility to cures and magic between Shao’s family and mine strangled my gut more.
It was unfair.
The royals were the providers of grace and generosity as they saw fit, and they always would be.
I’d always be the desperate, greedy parasite, begging them for their leftovers and crumbs like it was gold—because it probably was.
The only reason for this disparity was our birthright, and I was as bitter as I was thankful.
Rather, I was bitter because of how thankful I felt.
“Thank you,” I said, but my words were as empty as my heart. “I… Thank you.”
I let my broken gratitude linger in the air as I retreated to the nearest bedroom.
Chapter 19
I woke up to the sound of muffled voices, which were sometimes loud, heated, and animated, and other times so subdued I could only hear the occasional whispers of hard consonants popping.
For few, precious moments, I remained in my bed, allowing the soft sounds to wash over me like a waterfall as I melted into the soft white blankets and mattress.
Shaking my head, I pushed myself up. Seconds of idleness to me were eons longer of endless, boundless torture for my father, and it’d be selfish to dally longer—because, really, why had I been waiting in bed so long, when I was typically quick to dash to the library to read while awaiting Shao’s warm greeting and conversations?
The answer was clear: I didn’t want to leave Shao, even though he had deceived me. I wanted to eavesdrop on their muffled voices for as long as I could, allowing myself to relax through his soft voice and pretend he was talking to me. Like nothing had happened last night, and we were still the same old friends—or acquaintances, or whatever we were—that we always had been.
I sighed and snatched a hair-tie from the drawer next to the bed, biting on it to keep it still as I twisted my hair up into the tightest, neatest braid I could manage. The tight soreness on my scalp would distract me from any potential negative thoughts—or from thinking at all, hopefully. And my parents would hopefully not be disappointed in how much I’d allowed myself to slack despite the cushy, privileged life I’d been enjoying if I at least looked somewhat presentable.
Over the last few months, I’d hardly bothered to do anything with my hair or skin, since Shao looked at me like I was some perfect little pixie no matter what kind of mess my hair was tangled into—
Stop thinking about Shao!
My own reprimand thudded against my head, causing a brief but searing pain that reverberated off my temples.
I took a deep breath. I popped my knuckles, back, and neck, then repeated the motions twice over, and I realized I was tarrying some more.
Exhaling for more seconds than necessary, I exit my room.
I couldn’t help but give one last glance back, knowing it would be the last time I ever stayed… but the barren room, which was almost clinical in its whiteness and lack of adornments, didn’t arouse anything but further disappointment. This wasn’t a room I’d stayed in for more than a few days.
The one room I would harbor some nostalgic feelings for later in my life would be Isabella’s room, which she’d taken back during her visit, and I didn’t feel comfortable heading there just to say goodbye and nothing else.
I had to sever all my ties to this place, and seeing the cute stuffed animals I’d slept with and squeezed during Shao’s healing visits would weaken my resolve to hate Shao… which was stupidly weak, like a frayed string begging to be torn apart.
No matter. I quickened my pace. My mind cooed farewells to every crack and peel in the wall I’d ever noticed, and the backs of Shao’s paintings.
In a moment of weakness, I lifted one to glance at the painting itself: it happened to depict a giggling blond toddler’s face scribbled over a sti
ck figure body.
One of his hands was depicted by five lines connected to a circle, and it was jumbled into near indecipherability by another, larger group of lines. Another person’s hand. The person was offscreen, but I knew this must be his mother, and I averted my gaze at a reminder I hated: I hadn’t done anything for Shao and his curse, although his family would likely soon save mine.
My father’s possible recovery still felt surreal, somehow, and my faith in the cure’s potency plummeted with each passing second now that it was within my family’s grasp.
Perhaps because I’d gone so long believing Father would pass away myself, no matter how much I covered up that fear with lies to myself and my family.
I could admit that to myself now that there was some chance of hope.
Thanks to Shao.
As I plodded on, there was a part of me that screamed at me to finish the conversation with Shao. I had to ask him what his other secret was.
But I was scared. I couldn’t even guess as to what the secret could be, and he’d already rejected me once—I couldn’t bear another rejection.
I’d always known I was nothing. Invaluable. Worthless.
Shao’s words yesterday had been not only a confirmation; they’d also been thorns at my body and soul, digging into me like chains that only got tighter with every movement. When I rebelled against my thoughts, they’d only strengthen and ravage my wounds that much harder.
I wanted to trust him.
I wanted to lie to myself and convince myself that Shao had some sort of feelings to me, whether it was love or a measly crush. Even if he were simply desperate for anyone to keep him company, there was a part of me that would not only accept that, but also be grateful for it.
That part of myself terrified me.
Blinking away the couple droplets of moisture at my eyes I hadn’t realized I was shedding, I reached back to put the painting back on the wall, and I saw small black, blonde, and peach-colored stains on the walls.
Having been placed backwards for so long, the painting had wept residue onto the filmy, pale wallpapers.
As I laid the painting back down, right-side up, I huffed out a soft laugh at the realization.
A Kiss like Roses: Fairy Tale Synergy Book 1 Page 16
