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Had I caught her undressing and that’s why she took so long to come to the door?
Impeccable timing.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping over the threshold. When she doesn’t budge, I squeeze past her, and a tiny sigh behind me puts a smile on my face.
“You have ten minutes,” she says. “Talk fast.”
I’m tempted to remind her that I don’t take orders from anyone, especially her, but I bite my tongue. I thoroughly enjoy getting under her skin, but I’ll save it and keep things brief. She’s clearly tired of me already, and exhaustion is settling into my bones. After a near sleepless night and a long afternoon in the woods, my body is starting to protest my lack of rest.
Minotaurs might not be as frail and helpless as humans, but we have to rest well at least every few days to restore our energy and strength. We also eat much more than the humans I’ve seen, but that makes sense, considering how tiny they are. I could probably eat a boar the size of my bride by myself.
I stop in the middle of the room, a few feet from the foot of her bed, and observe my surroundings. Even though this is my first time here with her, I’m not unfamiliar with the decor. In fact, I helped bring up the furniture several years ago when this suite was first created, when my father first started looking for my potential bride.
“The princess chamber” is what we’ve always called it, and now it’s Irissa’s.
Amazing how much has changed in such a short amount of time.
I wheel around to face her. She hasn’t moved away from the door, but she’s turned to the side to watch me, her blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. At least she doesn’t look angry anymore. If anything, she merely looks annoyed.
“Well?” she urges, and I struggle to form my apology.
Apologizing has never been my forte, and it probably never will be. It’s hard enough to admit when I’m wrong to myself, but to say it out loud–admit it to the person I’ve wronged–is a looming battle I’d rather not face if I can avoid it. I usually do.
Arguments with Oryx are overcome simply with a slug to the shoulder or a headbutt to vent our frustrations.
Fights with my sisters are normally resolved with flowers or things that glitter, depending on the season.
Any quarrels with my parents, rare as they may be, are typically handled by my father’s sinister glare.
But this is something completely different, something I’ve never had to face before. I can hardly punch a woman, although I’m certain she’d enjoy walloping me once or twice, and I don’t see her being bought. Most importantly, we’re supposed to be partners, working together toward something mutually beneficial. I can’t brush this off or risk our relationship souring over my ego.
After thinking about it all evening and planning our conversation as I roamed the halls, my preparation seems to be in vain. Nothing I come up with seems to hold weight. None of it feels strong enough to convey what I’m thinking. How did I expect to fix everything with a few words?
Why did I think I could fix this in the first place? I’m clearly in over my head.
Irissa taps her foot on the floor to convey urgency, and I clear my throat, knowing my allotted minutes are slipping away. “I shouldn’t have ignored you this morning.”
That’s the first step to fixing a problem, right? Admitting there’s a problem in the first place.
Her jaw hardens and her blue eyes narrow. “No. You shouldn’t have.”
“And I don’t expect you to forgive me–”
“–I don’t plan to.”
“But Iamsorry,” I say, the words nearly painful as they pass my lips, and the room dissolves to silence.
I take a step toward her to test her reaction, worried she might throw things or swing her dagger. I’m not above pinning her down to avoid being stabbed, but I don’t know if I have the energy to defend against an onslaught. She’s clearly harboring furious energy, and if pushed enough, I doubt she’d stop attacking until she saw blood. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I might find the idea of a feral princess enticing. Maybe that’s something to explore later.
When she doesn’t move, I take another step in her direction.
“Go on.” If the look on her face is any indication, she’s highly unimpressed with my apology so far. Her back straightens, her eyes still glued to me as I linger near the center of the room.
“I’m sorry I was an ass,” I huff, unsure what else she’s expecting. Does she intend to make me grovel? I’d much rather buy her thousands of pounds of jewelry than get on my knees. “It was rude and insensitive, but I honestly thought it was for the best.”
Her eyes narrow further, and with a flick of her wrist, she closes the bedroom door. “How could pretending I don’t exist possibly be for the best, Nor? We’re supposed to work together, play the part. We can’t do that if you act like I’m invisible.”
I nod in agreeance as she speaks, waiting for my turn. As much as it irks me to admit, she’s right.
