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She didn’t understand herself. That she was irritated that he provided her with the strength that she had wanted him to provide her with. That the people had reacted to him with such great satisfaction. Which proved that he was what she needed all along. But she’d known that. Why should she be upset about it?
Because somewhere deep down she had hoped she would be enough, she supposed.
Because what she had begun to tell him days ago was that part of her had hoped that she could overcome her people’s doubts by being a woman who led with her heart. Who found a level of honesty with her people that those before her had not.
Because she wanted to be different, and she realized that, given the circumstances, she had to be the same.
That she could find a balance, find some progress, but she wouldn’t be able to be fully her own person, not really.
Because things were too tentative. And it was more important she looked solid than that she be loved.
And it was the source of her dissatisfaction now.
Ridiculous.
But then, she felt slightly ridiculous.
To care so deeply about this now, when she’d been handed what she needed to be protected. When he was living no more authentically than she.
He was helping her. Shouldn’t that be enough?
“Shall we dance?”
And she didn’t have a chance to respond. And truly, there was no response to make other than yes. For he was now her fiancé in public, even if he was still her adversary in private.
And there was nothing she could do about it. It was a scheme of her own making, a plan she had seen as a necessity.
You have to see it through. Your feelings don’t matter.
Her feelings never mattered.
There was no use becoming morose about it now.
He took her in his arms, and she found herself returning to that floating sensation. That strange place where she was caught between memory, dreams and reality. Suspended between all three.
And held fast only by him.
She felt unbearably fragile in that moment when she should’ve felt strong.
She was doing it. Her plan was working. And yet she felt reduced.
Yet she felt...
And she could see it, hear an old song rising up inside of her. One that she tried not to remember.
Her father’s soft voice singing as he danced her around the ballroom.
When the memories started, she could not stop them. No matter how hard she tried.
CHAPTER NINE
SHE PULLED HERSELF free of his arms. “I must excuse myself,” she said, smiling, because people were watching. The whole gilded, glittering ballroom was filled with people, like it had not been since she was a girl. And tomorrow, she would be crowned Queen. And all of it was simply too much.
She remembered this room full of her family.
And they weren’t here.
She remembered dancing now. Dancing with her father.
