by Lynette Noni
“We both know I’ve been avoiding you,” she continued, before he could respond to her fool comment. “And we both know why. What I don’t understand is why you seem so determined to spend time with me. An outing to the city, a morning ride—what are you playing at, Maxton?”
“Maybe I just want to enjoy your delightful company, Princess,” he said, his tone deliberately taunting.
“Try again,” she told him, reaching for a comb and moving to untangle Dancer’s mane.
“Maybe I’m bored.”
That was more likely, and yet, she still didn’t believe him. “We both know I’m the last person you’d seek out if that were the case.”
He didn’t deny it. But what he said instead shocked her into stillness once more. “Maybe I want to apologise for what I said five years ago.”
For the first time since he’d arrived, she looked over Dancer’s withers towards him. But when their gazes locked, it took everything in her not to flinch, since the hideous smirk was on his face, his blue eyes laughing at her.
“Kidding,” he said, snickering. “I really am just bored.”
Delucia contemplated how much trouble she’d be in if she threw a horseshoe at his head. But then she had a moment of realisation—what he’d said didn’t hurt. She was angry, oh yes, but only because he was being purposefully rude. His taunts and what they represented—the betrayal didn’t sting anymore. It was like suddenly she understood what she hadn’t before: he was a bully, plain and simple.
There was no reason or excuse for his hateful comments five years ago, just as there was no reason or excuse for his current behaviour. The damage he’d caused her, he didn’t care, and perhaps he never would. But if she continued giving him power, giving him attention, he would think she was still vulnerable, and like any bully, he’d take advantage of that.
What she needed was to show that his words and actions no longer had any effect on her. He wasn’t worth her pain—he never had been, and he never would be. It was high time she stood up for herself and let him know that he wasn’t the only one capable of using words as weapons.
“Master Ying says boredom only strikes those with simple minds,” Delucia shared, returning her focus to Dancer’s coat. “So that explains a lot.”
She didn’t need to look back at him to know her insult had hit its mark. Unable to help herself, she added, “Might I suggest reading a book to help pass the time? You may learn a thing or two, especially if you visit the ‘ethics and morality’ section.”
His face set into a scowl as he said, “I don’t waste my time with books.”
“That explains a lot, too,” Delucia murmured, unable to keep her lips from twitching.
His features darkened as he caught sight of her humour. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I’m definitely not laughing with you,” she replied, her smile growing. “You don’t look at all amused.”
“That’s because this isn’t funny, you little—”
“Careful,” Delucia interrupted in a singsong voice. But despite her apparent levity, there was a clear warning in her tone. “Unless the word you intend to use is ‘princess’, then you might want to rethink your sentence. Just as you might want to rethink all the choices you’ve made up until this moment, and the things you’ve said.”
Delucia could actually hear him grinding his teeth.
“No?” she said when he remained silent. “Nothing you want to say, Lord Maxton?”
Only when their eyes locked again did he hiss, low enough that she had to strain to hear him, “You think you’re special because of that crown you wear, but think again, Princess.” He spat the word like a curse. “We both know the truth—you’re nothing. Everyone knows it—why do you think five years have passed and you still have no friends? Your parents are the only people in this world who can stomach spending time with you. Face it, you’re going to be alone forever.”
The insult was old to Delucia’s ears, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It was only her resolve to not let Maxton get to her, to not give power to the bully, that enabled her to say, “Better alone than stuck in the company of someone like you.” She focused on keeping her hands from shaking as she combed Dancer’s forelock and finished, “Now run along, Lord Maxton, before someone sees us talking and thinks that, like my parents, you can ‘stomach spending time with me’. We wouldn’t want them to mistake us for friends now, would we?”
As harsh as the crack of a whip, he snarled, “You can’t speak to me like that.”
Delucia’s hand stilled, along with the rest of her body.
“I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice a lethal whisper. Her hands weren’t nearly shaking any more. She was perfectly still. Dangerously still. Everything about her offered a warning—one that someone wise would know to heed.
Maxton wasn’t wise.
His throat bobbed—the only indication of him realising he might have overstepped. And yet, he still repeated, “You can’t speak to me like that. I’m the son of a High Court judge—you owe me your respect.”
Delucia couldn’t believe what she was hearing, couldn’t believe his arrogance.
“Listen to me closely, Lord Maxton, since I’m only going to say this once,” she said in the same lethal tone as before, her eyes remaining locked on his. “Respect isn’t something you’re owed, it’s something you earn. Regardless of whether you are born in a castle or in a cave, the child of kings or criminals, you are nothing more than the sum of your own actions. You are owed nothing—by anyone, and especially not by me. So I will speak to you however I wish—not because my crown affords me that right, but because I’m a human being. And you’d do well to remember that, since there’s a whole world of us out there, many of whom would be all too willing to wipe your beloved smirk right off your face.”
That smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Maxton’s features were pale, his eyes wide, and there was a thin sheen of sweat over his brow.
“Now,” she said quietly, “I’ll ask again. Is there anything you’d like to say?”
Maxton stared at her as if seeing her for the first time, finally realising that she wasn’t the same eight-year-old who he could bully without care.
A long silence fell between them, with her holding his gaze squarely until he couldn’t take it anymore and dropped his eyes. The power had shifted between them, with him beginning to understand that he was no longer a boy mocking a girl; he was a boy mocking a princess. Not even he lacked the wisdom to continue with any further taunting.
“No, Your Highness,” he said in a tight voice, still not looking at her. “I—I’ve said all I came to say.”
And without another word, he turned and hurried up the stable aisle, all but running to get away from her.
She hadn’t expected an apology from him—she knew that wasn’t going to happen. But if nothing else, at least now he knew he couldn’t walk all over her anymore. She was a princess—and neither of them would forget it.
Never again.
“That. Was. Awesome.”
Startled, Delucia’s eyes shot back to where Maxton had just been standing to find Kaiden and Declan in his place. The latter had been the one to speak, his dark features filled with mirth as he finished, “You sure told him, Princess.”
“He’s had it coming for years,” Kaiden added, his amusement less obvious than Declan’s but still evident. “You handled that well, Your Highness. Really well.”
Her shock gave way to embarrassment as she asked, “How much did you hear?”
“Everything,” Declan said, shameless. “We saw him approach you so we snuck past and hid when he wasn’t looking.” He pointed towards the stall next to Dancer’s where the two of them must have eavesdropped while remaining out of sight.
“But why—”
“We wanted to make sure you had backup, just in case you needed it,” Kaiden said. His mouth hitched up at the side when he added, “You didn’t.”
Declan snorted. “Remind me
never to get on your bad side, Princess. In a battle of words, I wouldn’t last a sentence.”
Delucia felt a prickle of heat touch her cheeks, unaccustomed to such flattery. She set her comb down and gave Dancer one last pat before she moved towards the stall door, saying, “I guess that makes us even, since in a battle of fists, I wouldn’t last a second.”
What she’d said was true, especially if that battle was against Declan, since his bulky physique made him look like he was much later into his teens than he was. Somehow, he still remained graceful on his feet—which was remarkable considering his size.
Kaiden, while not as bulky as his friend, also appeared older than his years, and he was uncommonly mature for his age. With Jeera being three years his senior and the two of them growing up under the care of Commander Nisha, it was unsurprising that he acted older than most of his peers. Especially since his privileged early education at the palace was augmented by the discipline he’d learned from regularly accompanying his aunt when she supervised the training of the militia at the Soori Outpost. All of that combined meant his maturity level made sense—and Declan’s too, for that matter, given everything he’d been through in the last year with his father’s passing.
Looking at them both as she left Dancer’s stall and stepped out into the aisle beside them, Delucia felt a stab of self-pity. While they weren’t friends, and never would be, all her life they’d been frequent faces around the palace, with Kaiden often visiting his aunt and Declan his grandfather. But for the last year the two boys had been away at Akarnae, and with their summer holidays coming to an end in just a few days, they would soon be returning for their second year at the academy. Jeera, too, would be leaving with them on Sunday. And once more, Delucia would be alone.
She was used to being alone by now. But still—she couldn’t help eyeing Kaiden and Declan, wondering what her life might have been like if she were anyone other than who she was.
Her crown was a privilege. She knew that.
But sometimes, she couldn’t help wondering if it was a curse, too.
Shaking her head to rid herself of thoughts that would ultimately lead nowhere, Delucia bit her lip and weighed her next words. Not once in all the years she’d known both boys had she ever witnessed them acting in a way that was similar to Maxton. Not just with the verbal slander; with their actions in general. They were good people, as evidenced by them defending her five years ago, and staying close today just to make sure she was okay. Such actions deserved praise, regardless of how uncomfortable doing so might make her feel.
“Jeera told me what happened last time Maxton was here,” she said, forcing herself to meet their eyes. “It means a lot—you defending me back then. Thank you.”
Any trace of lingering humour fled their expressions at her words—and the reason for them.
The two boys exchanged a glance, but then Kaiden cleared his throat. His eyes, so similar to his sister’s, came back to her as he said, “Can I be candid, Your Highness?”
Delucia blinked at the unexpected question, wondering if she should brace herself. “Of course.”
He shared another quick glance with Declan before his gaze settled back on her. “I know—we know—that who you are means you’ve never been able to have a normal life.”
Delucia sucked in a sharp breath, since it was as if he’d plucked the words straight from her mind. Just as his sister had done only days earlier.
“And one day, I hope that changes for you,” he continued. “I hope you get to experience all the things you’ve ever wanted and you get to live the life of happiness that you deserve.”
Delucia swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
Kaiden’s voice lowered as he went on, “But until then, whenever you’re suffocating under the weight of your crown and the sacrifices it demands, don’t ever allow yourself to believe what Maxton said. He is a product of circumstances beyond his control, and instead of choosing integrity, he’s allowed bitterness and hatred to take root, lashing out at others in an effort to feel better about himself.”
Delucia felt a flicker of unease at Kaiden’s words, never having considered why Maxton was so malicious towards her. She’d been too hurt by his words and actions to think about the motivations driving them. But before any trace of guilt could take hold, Kaiden noted her expression and continued.
“That’s not on you, Princess, so don’t for a second feel bad about what you said to him, since nothing—nothing—can justify his behaviour, both now and in the past. Instead, what you need to know is that he was wrong—there are lots of people who care for you, not just your parents. And on the days when you feel most alone, rather than dwelling on what you don’t have, instead consider what might lie ahead.”
In a rare show of affection, Kaiden reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently as he finished in a quiet voice, “We all feel lonely from time to time, Princess. But every day is a new opportunity. You never know who you might meet, or how they will change your life. So don’t lose yourself in your isolation, because one day a doorway will open and your time will come. And when it does, you’ll be able to laugh in the faces of all the Maxtons of the world, hand in hand with the very friends you were told you’d never have.”
When Kaiden dropped his arm again, Delucia was holding her breath to keep back her tears. How could he possibly have known all that she was feeling? Like Jeera, he’d managed to cut right to the heart of her, telling her exactly what she needed to hear and reminding her of everything she kept forgetting—everything she needed to remember.
“Promise me you won’t forget,” Kaiden said, like he was still reading her mind. She wondered for a moment what his gift was, before realising that someone would have told her if he actually was a mind reader. Instead, whatever was guiding his words must have been based on intuition alone—unerring as that intuition was.
Lips trembling, Delucia whispered, “I’ll try.”
It was the best she could offer, since she’d had years to build up her walls and they wouldn’t crumble in the space of one conversation. But Kaiden seemed to realise that, and he gave a nod of acceptance.
He didn’t say anything else, but Declan spoke up and said, “You’d better listen to him, because princess or not, we’ll kick your royal ass if you end up becoming some kind of recluse—like one of those crazy cat ladies.”
A shocked laugh left Delucia, her mood lightening again in an instant. “I’ve never been one for cats. I think we can strike that from my fifty-year plan.”
“Crazy dog lady, then,” Declan said, before looking around the stables and amending, “Or crazy horse lady might be more fitting.”
With a smile on her face and warmth in her heart, Delucia said, “Tell you what. If I end up becoming any kind of crazy lady, you have my permission to follow through on your threat to ‘kick my royal ass’.”
Kaiden coughed, hiding a grin. “Careful, Your Highness. Pretty sure you’ll give Mistress Alma a stroke if she hears you saying ‘ass’.”
Delucia rolled her eyes, but Declan got in first before she could offer a comeback.
“Royal backside. Royal buttocks. Royal booty. You’ve got options, Princess,” he said. “You only live once—live it up with the vocabulary, I say.”
His ridiculousness was enough to make Delucia begin laughing again, and she was still chuckling to herself long after they left the stables together and parted ways back at the palace.
Only when she was alone in her bedroom later did she take a moment to go over everything that had happened that day. She found herself wondering again about the reasons for Maxton’s behaviour, before realising that Kaiden was right—nothing justified how he’d treated her. And while she felt a niggling of concern for whatever had led to him becoming the bully he was, she also knew that he would never in a thousand years open up to her about his personal life. There was nothing she could do other than let it go and hope that he’d listened to what she’d said to him today.
/> With a deliberate decision to dwell on him no longer, Delucia moved her thoughts along from Maxton to linger on everything else that had occurred down at the stables. Smiling slightly, she was careful to cement her time with Kaiden and Declan into her memory. As she did so, she couldn’t help feeling the smallest crack in the walls surrounding her heart.
A crack that felt a lot like hope.
Because as Kaiden had said, every day was a new opportunity, and she never knew who she might meet—or how they might change her life.
Five
Kaiden’s suggestion that one day a doorway would open and Delucia’s life would change must have penetrated deeper than she’d thought, because that night in her sleep, she dreamed she was walking through a corridor of unending doorways. It was a strange dream, with a whispering voice just out of reach, and no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t able to hear what was being said. All she knew was the sense of urgency she felt, a rising panic that wouldn’t be swayed.
When the dream finally faded and she awoke to the morning sun streaming in from her balcony, Delucia felt groggy and her muscles ached, almost like she’d been walking past the endless doorways in reality. But after a good stretch and a hot bath, she was feeling back to normal, eager to be about her day.
Not even the thought of having to share breakfast with Maxton could bring her down—not today. Because today was special, and when she left her bathroom fully clothed and all but skipping, she already knew what she would find waiting for her in her bedroom.
Or rather, who she would find.
And why.
Indeed, as soon as the steam dissolved around her, she was able to see both her parents seated on her bed—and resting in between them, just like every other year, was a decadent cake covered in candles.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Delucia grinned at her parents, rushing over to them as they rose to their feet. Her father’s arms were outstretched, and as soon as she was close enough, he wrapped her in a tight hug.
