“The Kairens,” I said, my voice slow to come out. “The lovebirds.”
“The Kairens?” He echoed, perhaps realizing they were different. Important. “What’s the story behind them?”
Glad I could tell him something he didn’t already know, I smiled. “I assume you know about the Magnolia Wars?”
Shao scoffed. “I may have been imprisoned in the mansion for most of my life, but I’m neither illiterate nor uncultured. I’ve had more time than most to study our nation’s history.”
I tittered. “Right. Well, if you’re so confident, why don’t you tell me the myth behind its resolution?”
“Are you trying to give me a history lesson?” Shao smirked. “And I here thought we were talking about stars. Well, the royal family turned on itself, and during the internal, bloody family warfare, the treacherous witch general—Queen Mulan—swept in and conquered the throne.”
Eh?
Furrowing my brows, I playfully shoved at Shao with my shoulders.
“Did you really not expect me to know?” Shao asked, peering at me in confusion.
“Do you not listen to me? I specified that I wanted to hear about the myth.”
“What does it matter? If we’re being technical, all distant history tales are myths, since we’re piecing together—”
Irritated, I gave him another shove. “Do you not have a romantic bone in your body? For all the love stories and fairy tales you hoarded in your library, you’re acting ridiculous.” Shaking my head and giving a generous series of tuts, I said, “Legends say that the witch Mulan and the nation’s prince fell in love with each other, as did many of the strongest, smartest generals on both sides.”
Shao arched his brow as if doubting my story, which was fair, since I didn’t believe any of the words myself. “It’s just a story,” I mumbled, because it was. “But it’s a good one, so keep listening. It was my favorite story as a kid, although I’ve forgotten most of the details.”
Shao chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Should you really be telling it to me if you’ve forgotten it?”
Shove.
“Will you keep interrupting me, or will you listen to me?” I asked. “I hope you know, every time you interrupt me is a year longer that I refuse your advances.”
Laughing, Shao shook his head, but he didn’t speak up again. I almost wished he had.
“They knew one of their sides would be completely decimated if the war continued,” I said. “Both sides were standing for so much in their side of the war, and they knew the support of their people, whom they’d pledged to die for would be lost if they wavered… but they did. And eventually—” I gave a sheepish grin, since the details as to the finale had been one of the things I’d long forgotten. “Eventually, the war came to a peaceful resolution, and the lovebirds who’d given up their identities, their people, their loves, and their purpose, found happiness in each other for eternity thereafter.”
Realizing something bitter, I paused to frown. In the story I’d told, the lovebird generals had sacrificed everything for love. To stay with their beloveds for the rest of their days. Even at the expense of their passions.
What was I doing? Pushing Shao away?
I shook my head. As strong as my feelings for him were, something as trivial as emotions were irrelevant in reality… only in myths and legends could they prevail over all else.
Shao froze, then threw his head back to guffaw. I glared at him as he spoke. “And that’s who the Kairens are supposed to represent? The generals who—in your very incorrect retelling, mind you—resolved a war through the power of love?”
“Listen,” I said. I harrumphed. “Like you said, history was written through the interpretations of modern men. We don’t know what happened, and for all we know, the war was resolved through the power of love.”
“You need to stop taking your parents’ bedtime stories seriously.”
“And you need to stop being so contrarian,” I retorted, pulling a face at the contradiction between my words and my heart. Shao stroked my hands with his thumb, seeming to understand, and I averted my gaze. “Well? What’s your thought on the stars?”
“It’s very… idealistic,” he said.
“They’re stars,” I grumbled. “We project our hopes and dreams to them. How could they not be?”
Shao’s eyes glazed, glued to the constellation. I considered talking about more collections of stars to fill the silence, but the quiet atmosphere felt strangely comforting, and Shao seemed too focused for me to interrupt him.
Minutes passed before he shifted.
“For the longest time, you were my hopes. You were my dreams.” His voice came out as a breathy whisper, and it reminded me of his past alone—and the time we’d spent at the mansion. I inhaled sharply, then shot him a rueful grin.
“Past tense, huh? I noticed,” I teased. His reaction was a throaty laugh.
“You still are, but in a completely different way,” he said. “Back then… Well. You’ve saved me from myself more times than you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never was very clear about how you saved me, was I?” He gave me a weak smile. “It wasn’t just that you gave me hope I’d find someone to defend me or to break the curse. Several years ago, I was on the verge of madness. I decided I’d never be able to cure the curse, and I’d be stuck to live alone with the guilt of being a murderer for the rest of my life.”
“You weren’t a murderer—”
“I know that now,” he retorted. “Not then.”
“Shao.”
“When Sol wrote me about you, I wasn’t taking care of myself. I hardly ate. I stayed in bed all day, berating myself as I relived my memory of my mother’s transformation.”
I pressed my hands against the patchwork woods of the bench. “Did I give you hope you’d be able to remove the curse?”
“No, actually.” He tilted his head. “You helped me realize that no matter how hopeless it seemed—that even if dispelling the curse was impossible—it was foolish to give up. You taught me it was better to go mad with hope than squander my life with self-hatred.”
“Shao—”
He reached out for my hand again. I entwined my fingers with his before he could change his mind.
“I saw myself in you,” he said. “We faced similar circumstances; we faced them vastly differently. I strove to emulate you.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that what he faced was far worse but changed my mind. That was obvious. Both of us knew it. That wasn’t the point.
“When I met you, my opinion of you changed,” he said.
“I fell off your pedestal.”
He nodded. “You did. But the Beatrice I imagined was nothing compared to the real you that I got to know. You’re loving. Sensitive. Caring. You swept me off my feet with your determination and impulsiveness, and I can no longer imagine a life without you.”
My eyes felt damp, but I refused to cry again. I blinked away the wetness.
“I swear to the heavens, Shao, if you’re proposing twice in one day when I’ve just reminded you—” I began with a giggle, and Shao leaned in, his lips pausing an inch away from mine as if to taunt me.
“May I?” He breathed, and I waited one, two, three breaths before I closed the distance myself, feeling the heat of his lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pushing myself closer to him so I could hear our thudding, erratic heartbeats dance against each other.
I allowed myself to sink into his kiss. His feather-light touches brushed the arch of my back.
My misgivings melted away in Shao’s arms, replaced by hope and love and a desire for this moment for stretch for eternity.
These feelings, too, may be fleeting… but what harm could it do to revel in our sickly-sweet lies for one more day? Tomorrow, I’d shield my heart once more.
For now, I savored every whisper. Rolled his words around in my tongue, a silent echo, as I pulled away, breathless.
; Shao called me his hero, but he’d helped me far more.
Keeping these thoughts close to my heart, I gave Shao a small smile. The hours slipped away as we whispered in the darkness.
Chapter 31
True to his word, Shao stayed and courted me over several weeks, dogged and stubborn and constant despite my half-hearted rejections. No doubt it was because he saw in my eyes and in my traitorous pulse that I was pushing him away out of fear, rather than because I didn’t love him.
My mornings and evenings were punctuated by kisses stolen in the parlor and the gardens when no one else was looking. It grew to where I depended on the kisses to energize me for the rest of the day.
Otherwise, I went to work as normal; during those hours, Shao remained at home to learn how to paint from Father. If Father was out painting for other clients or otherwise busy, Shao remained to do the housework, which he was exceptionally good at due to his discerning eye. This surprised me. Why had he kept his home a pigsty—and made me clean up after him—if he could make the house positively sparkle with mere minutes of work?
Likely because that had been my supposed payment for receiving the cure, but still.
Either way, he became the darling of the family thanks to the fact that he basically paid us for the privilege of cleaning our houses for us. It was obvious in the longing, loving glances my parents shot towards him that they were wondering when I would marry him.
They also wondered, it seemed, what in heavens Shao saw in me, but I pretended not to notice that.
Gradually, I almost began to feel at ease, accepting that Shao… perhaps loved me. His company began to feel like home, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever let him go.
A month and a half passed.
Shao and I were returning home from the farmer’s market, baskets filled with fruits, vegetables, and eggs in our hands. We were giggling and laughing like carefree children as we gossiped about the latest shenanigans we’d encountered at the city when we heard a small commotion nearby.
We glanced towards the crowd that was gathering, and I gasped, my basket collapsing to the ground. Among the curious crowd of people were five humongous but simple carriages. I could see through the windows of the closest carriage strands of black hair and flashing, dark eyes, and I knew it to be Isabella in her disguise.
Of course, they couldn’t have come here without their disguises or in their royal carriages. It would bring shame to the kingdom’s rulers if word got out the royal family had appeared themselves to kidnap village men—and it would only worsen their reputation further if the man turned out to be their own runaway prince. Although they were the most powerful people in the country, they were still bound by the rules of their blood when surrounded by commoners.
My eyes turned to Shao in shock. He gulped.
“Let’s turn past the corner over there,” he said. “They won’t see us if we take the eastern shortcut to the gardens. We can return in a couple hours when they’re gone.”
He grabbed my hand and began to tug me in his rush to leave, but I stood firm. First out of a petrifying shock and fear, then out of stubbornness.
All my anxieties that I’d left forgotten and dormant rushed back to me as a punch to my gut.
My worst fears were coming true. The royal family, accompanied by guards, were here to take their prince back. And if Shao somehow stayed with me, a hole in his heart would remain from the absence of his family—from the memory of kicking them out of his life repeatedly, even though he wanted to see them. Be with them.
Who was I to take that from him?
“No,” I said, and Shao quirked a brow as guards began to depart the carriage. They flanked the carriage and motioned for the townsfolk to make room, which the latter reluctantly did, although they remained close to gawk. The royals remained in the carriage. For now.
“What do you mean, no?” Shao asked, giving my hand another pull. I gulped.
“I mean no,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “You should go home. You miss your family, don’t you? You spent such a long time without them… you deserve to make up for that lost time, rather than spend your life hiding away with me.”
Shao’s jaw twitched. “But I…”
“I want to be with you, too,” I said. “But that’s just not reality.”
The guards were now spreading out, asking the villagers questions about whether they’d seen anyone strange. Anyone new. Although many of them played dumb, the loyal souls that they were, others blatantly stared in Shao’s direction—although they didn’t name him outright from fear of the townsfolk judging them.
Shao tried to run again, but I held him firm by the hand he’d offered first as the guards waded to us through the quicksand of townsfolk.
“You should go home,” I said. “Don’t you get it? I… You’ve been with us for a month and a half, and I still haven’t accepted your proposal. It’s because I knew—I knew this wouldn’t last.”
Shao’s knuckles blanched against his basket of groceries. “I’ve been telling you I’d stay no matter what!”
“And you knew that was impossible!” I cried back. I jabbed a finger into him. “You can’t live in denial forever. You can’t be a runaway forever.”
“I know that,” Shao said, pulling at his hair. “You think I haven’t been wondering how to gain my parents’ approval of you myself? I have, and I can’t think of anything. That’s why I’m staying! To ensure they do approve when they get sick of me disappearing on them! I—”
“You will never gain your parents’ approval,” I said, and from the way he broke at those words, I knew he believed the same. “And without their approval, you will never steal my heart.”
“We kiss several times a day—”
“You steal my lips, Shao,” I said tauntingly, mimicking a sassiness and calmness that I didn’t feel. “Not my heart. Not me. Never me.”
“Beatrice…”
Before he could say anything else, we were surrounded by guards dressed in metal armor. Ha. As if any of us would lay a hand on them.
“Are you—” A guard began, and I recognized him from his fluffy, almost cotton-candy-like brown curls.
“Amédée,” I said, raising my eyes. He glanced towards me, tilted his head, then gasped as he recognized me.
“Beatrice,” he breathed. Shao’s arm wrapped around my shoulder protectively, and I could have giggled if I weren’t already mourning his loss. Was he jealous despite my rejection of him? Pity that he’d misunderstood. “How’s Constance?” He asked, and I laughed.
We’d been classmates several years ago at the academy, and he’d fawned over Constance like a lost puppy after she’d saved him from an evil, dangerous, and—worst of all—furious teacher. While Constance had never returned his affections, she thought him amusing, and she spent time with him whenever I wasn’t with her.
“Oh, you know,” I said. “Busy. Pretty. Heartbroken after a breakup.” I arched my eyes at him as if to dare him, and he cleared his throat and averted his gaze, but I could see the pink flush blossoming on his cheeks.
The other guards stepped closer to us, all opening their mouths at once to speak with me, and I glanced back at Shao, who was gazing at me with a protective scowl that almost made me melt and tell him to stay.
But I couldn’t.
For his sake, he had to leave.
“Yes, this is Shao,” I whispered under my breath so only the guards could hear me. “Take him.” I turned to Shao. “Go home. Forget about me. Don’t come back here again.”
“Beatrice—”
“Please.”
Shao grit his teeth, and I knew the heat climbing up his skin wasn’t caused by any happy, flirtatious emotion. My eyes squeezed shut as I breathed hard through my mouth, trying to keep myself from crying.
This was the worst farewell; perhaps I should have let him sneak me away, if only so we could say our good-byes properly before he left forever.
“Goodbye, Shao,” I said as he allowed himself to
be taken by the guards.
He said nothing back.
Chapter 32
“Breaking news! Breaking news!” A loud voice boomed from outside the window, punctuated by an even louder trumpet. Constance and I winced at the noise, and I glanced towards the window, wondering if I’d forgotten to shut it while cleaning my house with my family.
Nope. It was sealed tight. How could anyone be so inhumanly obnoxious?
I glared at the man who was marching along with his gigantic instrument in his arms. Noticing me from the corner of his eye, he turned and saluted towards me before returning to his job.
People like him weren’t uncommon—they were hired to spread propaganda and gossip (and, very rarely, news) for a pretty penny, but most people couldn’t have cared less about the nobles’ petty quarrels and actively avoided them. Their only way to spread their stories was to grate on everyone else’s nerves.
I couldn’t fault him for trying to make a living, but could he have been any less irritating?
“Breaking news! Breaking news!” More trumpet noises. “The returned Prince Asha is engaged!” My duster clattered to the floor, and I stared blankly at the messenger as I listened to him repeat those seven accursed words endlessly, each time louder than the last.
Constance reached out to hold my hand.
I appreciated the sentiment, but all I could think was that her hand was too small, too cold.
It wasn’t Shao’s hand.
The gesture was kind, but Constance lacked the ability to comfort me immediately as Shao—and only Shao—could.
Shao, who was engaged.
To whom?
I pressed my ear to the window.
“His betrothed is the beloved Crown Princess Gretel of Heloritas!”
Yet another sentence I had to hear infinitely again until I wanted to crawl into a hole and sleep forever.
Even I knew about Crown Princess Gretel, and I’d hardly ever paid attention to gossip about monarchs, particularly foreign ones.
Due to the king’s withdrawal from public affairs after the curse of his children, the Perintas monarchs were known of but hardly ever thought of—another reason they were so wary about bad press.
A Kiss like Roses: Fairy Tale Synergy Book 1 Page 25
