A Royal Ruse

Chapter 15

The Apology

A sturdy wrap rattled Zita's bedroom door.

"Finally," the princess groaned.

Zita had spent the past few days melting into her bed, as per the royal physician's instruction. The bedrest had helped a great deal. Her body was no longer screaming out in pain whenever she moved. Save for the sizable bruise on her left thigh, her slightly tweaked left hip, and her dislocated shoulder she was right as rain.

Now the main point of Zita's distress was boredom.

Sahali, who hadn't left the princess's side since her accident, shot up like a guard dog at the sound of the knock. Even though her maidservant knew Zita was expecting a visitor today, she had been instructed to ward off everyone and everything that could detract from the princess' recovery. So keeping in line with her instructions, she made sure the princess's bed-chamber was a fortress.

Sahali opened the door and bowed. "Your Highness," she said, dipping out of the way to allow entrance.

Zita waited with a blooming smile for Prince Oziakel to appear in front of her. She had been overjoyed to receive a note from him saying he would come to see her that day if she felt up to it. She had finished reading Boahdahn's collections from their day spent in the library and was itching to discuss it with him.

Zita's smile plummeted the second she saw which 'Your Highness' had indeed come to pay her a visit.

Prince Adair's heavy-booted footsteps came to a stop before her bed. His hands were clasped behind his back. He bowed.

The princess made no effort to conceal her disappointment. She didn't return his greeting, allowing silence to fester between them.

The two of them hadn't spoken since their unfortunate horse incident.

The princess regained consciousness shortly after she had lost it. The prince rushed to her aid and found her body was not only twisted and in pain but some rogue branches had left her with scarlet gashes in various places. After quickly assessing the severity of her injuries, he decided to go and fetch help from the palace. He rode off and several servants came riding back. She hadn't seen him since.

Absence truly didn't make Zita's heart grow fonder towards him. She stared at him with naked resentment.

The prince cleared his throat.

"I trust your injuries have improved. You look better than... you look in better health,"

"I'm not," Zita said with a slicing gaze. "I'm going to be wearing this... thing," she gestured to her slinged-up arm, "for at least an entire lunar cycle."

Adair nodded as if agreeing with a voice only he could hear. His lips tensed together in a thin line.

"Your injuries were quite superficial considering the gravity of your fall. I talked to the physician at length and she said that you were fortunate to escape with only a few scrapes and a dislocated shoulder."

"I don't feel fortunate." Zita scowled. "I feel like an elephant sat on me."

"Well, you are. The speed of travel combined with the position of your body at the moment of impact could have caused—"

"Did you really come all this way to tell me about how much worse my injuries could have been?"

"No, no. I um..." he swallowed hard. Zita could see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

The sound of his throat clearing again really grated on the princess' nerves. Turning pensive, his gaze drifted away from Zita and out her chamber window onto the view of the palace gardens. From his profile, she could see his jaw muscle jump.

The longer he tensely stood in front of her with no clear intention of apologizing for his actions, the more inflamed the princess became.

"Is there anything else keeping you here?" Zita arched her brow at the prince's gaze-averting behavior.

"No. No. Nothing else. I just came to see if you were on the mend and that the physician's orders were being implemented."

"I am. And they are."

"Right," he said, still not leaving his firmly planted position in the middle of her room.

"I still need to rest despite how minor you think—"

"I also came to request your forgiveness." The prince looked and sounded as if the sentence had been back-slapped out of him.

The princess tilted her head in part surprise, part confusion. She had never seen someone look so betrayed by the words coming out of their own mouth.

He finally faced her squarely. "My words were delivered poorly and caused you to react negatively. Forgive me."

For a moment genuine intrigue displaced all of Zita's distaste for Adair. She marveled at the man standing in front of her. Everything about him from his rod-like spine to his wooden non-apology, right down to the stubborn soles of his feet, looked unyielding.

To the princess, this level of rigidity seemed unnatural. She also wondered what lurked beneath it all. She longed for a clear view of the center. Was he really bedrock down to his core? Or was this all a hard casing to shield a flimsy sense of self?

The princess sighed, exhausted just by looking at the clenched man — and also fully convinced he had been coerced into apologizing by a parental figure.

"I understand you don't trust me. But there are other ways to get answers from someone — without insults and interrogation. Have you ever heard of the expression 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar'?"

"Deceitful people run from the truth, no matter what it tastes like."

Zita didn't bother defending herself. She knew deception wafted around her like a lingering fart.
"Far be it from me to tell you how to rule your future kingdom but I hardly think that having a reputation for being prickly and combative is going to inspire the goodwill of your people."

"I'm not worried about my reputation. I will gain the respect and loyalty of my subjects by being the best king the nation of Haddon has ever seen. Goodwill follows those who rule well."

"Yes but will it kill you to be more likeable? Look at your father for instance he is clearly beloved and he—"

"I didn't come here to discuss my father. I came to track your recovery."

"Fine." Zita rolled her eyes. "You have done so. You may leave now."

Adair bowed and turned towards the door. Zita turned her back towards him and buried her body deeper into her pillows.

"Oh and tell your mother," the princess called after him, "the next time she sends someone to 'track my recovery' she should make sure it's a physician or a person that actually cares about my well-being."

Not fully satisfied with her final words, she bellowed, "At the very least she should send the son whose presence I don't find completely insufferable!!"

There was silence for a brief second.

Then she heard the sound of Adair's thunderous walk fade into a distant echo as he continued out of her room and down the hall.

Zita smiled softly to herself, fully confident that those footsteps belonged to a wounded man.