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I furrowed my brow at her tone. She sounded like she was speaking from experience. But surely that wasn’t the case since she wasn’t married off yet. She’d be locked away, keeping that precious virginity intact until her father could use her as a pawn.
Francesca’s expression morphed into irritation the longer I watched her.There is the girl I knew so well.So cold and hateful. She would probably be a better match for Nikolai.
And when she smirked I forced myself to break eye contact with her, knowing she was about to go to her default and be cruel.
“Are you ready for your wedding night?”
I didn’t bother answering, just kept smoothing my hands down my dress.
“I don’t think anyone is ready for their wedding night, especially not when you’re getting married to a killer.”
I swallowed roughly and her blunt, coarse words. Of course I knew this to be fact, but I felt irritation fill me. I looked at her then and she must have seen something in my expression because her body visibly tensed.
“No, I doubt it,” I said and let those words hang in the air between us. “I’m sure your mother felt the same way when she was forced to marry your father.” I felt this fire burn inside of me, knew I should have shut my mouth, but the words just kept spilling out. “And I’m sure you’ll feel the same thing when yourfather pawns you off, just like mine is doing to me.” Neither one of us spoke for so long I didn’t think she’d ever respond. But when her nostrils flared slightly I knew I’d hit a nerve.
Her lips pursed so tightly there was a thin line of white around her lips. “It hurts the first few times.”
I knew she was looking for a reaction, saying these things for shock value, pissed that I’d called her out that my fate was hers. Although I was a virgin it wasn’t as if I didn’t know the fundamental basics of sex or what happened on a wedding night. My mother had hinted to it over the past couple weeks, but she’d been too timid to go into the hard details of it all.
So I’d made it a mission to eavesdrop when my brother would talk with some of the guards and what he did with the girls he’d been with. I overheard staff talking about what they did with their partners in hushed detail that my face had heated unbearably.
If she was looking for a reaction she wouldn't get one. Not about this.
“Yeah, the first couple times hurt like hell, and of course blood. A lot of blood in my case.” I felt my eyes widen at her admission, but she kept talking. “Let’s hope your future Russian beast of a husband takes pity on you and doesn’t just push you on the bed, spread you open, and rut between your thighs like the animal I’m sure he is.”
She shrugged and looked down at her nails, examining them as if she found a chip in her new manicure.
“But that’s how these men are, aren’t they when they don’t care about you.” Her voice was soft, almost as if she spoke to herself. “Some of us are just a vessel for them to shove deep inside and fill with their babies.”
When she looked at me there was a nasty smile on her face. “Have you heard some of the things your future husband has done?”
Maybe I hadn’t kept my mask in place well enough because when her smile widened I clenched my jaw.
“He’s ruthless, and finds sport in killing his enemies. And you know what they say about the Russians, how barbaric they are, how they use and abuse their women.” She shrugged again and smoothed her hands down her dress. “I’m sure it won’t be any different with Nikolai Petrov. He probably likes it when the women he fucks bleeds and cries.”
I turned and faced her then. “How do you know all this?” Of course I wasn’t stupid and had heard her words, how it sounded like she was telling me all of this from experience. But surely that wasn’t her truth? Surely she hadn’t experienced it firsthand?
She didn’t answer for long moments and it was her expression that told me the truth. She knew these things because she’d done them. She wasn't just saying it to shock me, wasn’t fabricating any of it to be a bitch.
“When I get married it’ll be to someone I love and who loves me back.” Her tone of voice told me she honestly believed that.
I didn’t bother correcting her, reminding her that in our world there was no “marriage for love”.Let her believe what she wants.
“Francesca,” I said softly. “You know the rules of our world. You know we have to follow them.” I forced the words past my lips. They tasted sour, toxic. I felt like a robot just regurgitating what had been beaten into me since I was old enough to understand words.
She didn’t say anything but her expression hardened, her red painted lips pinching. “I know what the rules are. I know what’s expected of me.” The words were hard, growing louder with every syllable.
I’d never seen or heard Francesca speak so passionately about something.
“But I also know what I want. And I’m not going to settle. I have plans, plans that don’t involve being shoved onto someone I don’t want.” With that she pulled her shoulders back, tipped her chin up and snubbed nose at me. She raked her gaze up and down me, her lip curling as if I were weak and beneath her for “following the rules”.
I said nothing else as I watched her leave the dressing room, shutting the door behind her harder than necessary.
For a second I just stood there, the only thing running through my mind was my own thoughts and everything she said being repeated like a broken record. I faced the mirror once more and thought about what she said, about finding love, knowing what you wanted and not settling.
But I also knew reality. I faced it. And I knew fairytales and a happily ever after with my prince charming had never been in the books for me.
All I could do was accept my fate and hope that the outcome at least had me somewhat happy.
