Page 59 of Tangled Sails

I could see from my peripheral vision that while she sat close, she was facing forward, maintaining her royal bearing and decorum while I debated whether or not I could extricate my arm from her touch without causing a scene.

LYRIELLE

Prince Dorian led me to a spot in the grand hall near the front of the assembly, close to the raised dais, but off to the side. The moment my eyes landed on Tavric’s face, my lungs heaved in relief. At least for a moment.

In the next moment, my gaze landed on the delicate feminine hand resting on Tavric’s arm, and I wanted to sink into the earth and let it suffocate me.

Was this a cruel joke? Did Dorian wish for me to see this cozy scene with Tavric and the princess sitting close, side by side, and looking for all the world as though they were already the king and queen of the land? Perhaps it was his way of showing me that any ludicrous dream I might have of a future with Tavric was not only impractical, but already burned to ashes.

I turned away. “I can’t do this,” I muttered and tried to walk toward the archway we’d just come through, but the prince caught my arm.

“Please,” he hissed. “He needs you.”

I whipped around to glare at him, my face strained in agony. “He doesn’t need me. He has her.” The perfect match, born and bred for this duty and this world.

“Watch. Just watch him,” he begged. “The longer she sits beside him, the worse it’s getting. Look.”

I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see any more. But I did it anyway.

TAVRIC

Lyri was here. I wasn’t certain when Dorian brought her in, but the moment I caught sight of her, there was an easing in my chest. The contrast between my response to her and my response to Princess Saria was astounding, and it made me dismiss any idea of pursuing a strategic match with the princess.

Lyri looked sad and uncertain, but she was still here. I didn’t deserve her kindness. I didn’t deserve her at all. What had possessed her to come here when I had so coldly dismissed her?

As the afternoon progressed, I was able to look to Lyri once in a while, and each time, her bolstering smile reduced my stress just enough to keep me from fleeing the room. She allowed me to survive.

When it was all over, I was incredibly grateful that the king was expected to leave before anyone else, and that I had a private door right off the dais that exited the grand hall. I needed to get out of this room, take off this suffocating costume, and just be alone.

Well, maybe not alone. What I really wanted was for Lyri to be with me, maybe even with her arms wrapped around me, but that wasn’t an option. I reminded myself a hundred times that she wasn’t a tool for me to use. Just because she could fix me didn’t mean it was acceptable for me to ask it. She’d done enough. The only reason I’d made it through that audience while knowing my father was dying a few floors away was because she’d been there.

I briskly walked from the dais with my head held high, resisting the urge to look back over my shoulder for one more look at her. I heard Princess Saria call my name, but I continued through the doors and into the safety of the corridor beyond. Once I was out of the grand hall, I dropped my regal posture, ready to tear the oppressive costume from my body.

Unfortunately, Saria followed. “Prince Tavric, do slow down and speak to me,” she called out in exasperation, clearly impatient and expecting me to obey.

I turned on her, and the cheeky smile that had adorned her face quickly slipped when she saw my expression. “No, Princess, I will not. You know nothing about who I am or what I need in this moment, so I must ask you to depart and not harass me any longer.”

I didn’t bother to wait for a response, but turned and hurried toward my chambers, taking off chains and rings and handing them off to my valet as my feet carried me at a frenzied pace through the corridors. Stephan was used to it. He knew how uncomfortable all the accoutrements made me, and we only made it to the antechamber of my rooms before he made quick work of helping me out of the heavy ornamental robes, leaving me in my trousers and linen shirt. “Now go,” I said, breathing heavily. I just needed some time in the quiet of my own room to get my panic and discomfort under control.

The door shut behind Stephan, and I sat on the closest chair and dug my palms into the tops of my thighs, then pushed them toward my knees. The exertion on my hands and the pressure on my legs gave the panic somewhere to go, and the almost painful sensation gave me something physical to focus on.

A knock sounded on my door.

“Away!” I shouted.

The door opened anyway.

I got up, ready to scream at whomever dared to enter my room when I’d clearly refused them entrance, but when Lyri was pushed abruptly through the doorway, the anger died in my chest.

She stumbled a bit as the door closed after her. She looked at me, then at the door, then back at me.

Just seeing her was a relief, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted so much more from her than just a glance at her beautiful face or a few minutes of her reassuring presence. Finally, I found my voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Prince Dorian thinks I can help.”

I shook my head but couldn’t form the words to deny it. I was pressing my hands together, my breathing barely controlled. Lyri was too observant, so telling her that I was fine would be a waste and a lie.

She hesitated near the door for only a few moments before her mouth set in a decisive line. Then she was across the room in a flash, and instead of stopping in front of me, she practically crashed into me, wrapping her arms around my torso and squeezing while I latched onto her in return.