Stolen Princess

20. The Wrong Sister

Bless Sosha, she says nothing all the way down to the great hall, and neither do I.

My jaw is so tight, I feel like my teeth might just break off in my mouth. There's a fluttering in my stomach as we draw nearer... and this time I know why it's there. And I hate it.

Talon will be there, in the same room. And even though I am the very last thing on his mind... the idea of just being int he same room as him makes me eager to arrive.

I don't bother sitting with my sisters tonight, but immediately join the Orcs table on the far side of the great hall.

They've been shoved furthest from the fire and closest to the kitchen... and clear snub from my father or my stepmother... I'm not sure which one.

I drop into the red upholstered chair beside Leif with a huff, and lean back into it, posture be damned.

"You look lovely..." Leif says it in a wary tone, shooting me a questioning glance. He's in the Royal Guard uniform again, his wild hair combed back with pomade - he's handsome, and I think he knows it.

"It's just a dress, Lief," I snarl like a wounded animal. He narrows his eyes at me, watching me over the rim of his beer mug until he seems to come to some kind of conclusion and shrugs before resuming his meal.

Oren sits across from me, and Sosha has taken teh seat beside him. Talon is nowhere to be found. A cold stone sinks int omy belly. And i hate him for not being here when I need him, and I hate myself for wanting him here at all.

"Are you alright?"

I look up from my sour thoughts to find Oren looking at me, that same tender expression now colored with concern as he glances from me to Sosha, trying to get some kind of read on my change in mood.

"Nearly killed her sisters," Sosha reports without commentary, but I glance heavenward at her exaggeration.

"Oh..." is Oren's only answer, and he nods slowly as if he understands. Maybe he does.

The other's fall into a rhythm of conversation that I can tell is more formal and stilted than how they acted when Oren was still asleep. Not surprising though, this prince seems a bit more caught on formality and propriety than my first.

I wince at that possessive thought and wonder for the hundredth time just where he's gotten to. I glance towards the doors of the great hall and wonder if they'd notice if I tried to sneak out.

"Would you do me the honor?"

I'm brought back to the scene before me by Oren's gentle question, and find him standing beside my spot at the table, offering his hand.

That's the first time I even notice there's string instruments playing and other couples are waltzing. I nod in a short, silent ascent, placing my hand in his large, warm one. There's calouses along his palm just like Talon had. The wear of a warrior. He squeezes my fingers as we pass through the tables of whispering courtiers.

I look up at him in surprise and he offers me a small encouraging smile in response. I smile back, thinking again just how nice it is to not be so... alone, now that the Orcs are here.

When we reach the dance floor, Oren moves into the waltz as if there's nothing more natural. I let him lead me through it, half numb, half angry as we go.

A million questions run through me over and over like an endless wheel turning.

Why did my mother want my father? Why did she leave me? Or did he take me? Why had Talon shut me out? If I snuck away now, would Sosha still follow me? Would I be able to find him out in the darkness?