A Royal Ruse

Chapter 24

The Boy Hates Poetry

"Your Highness!" a voice slashed through the sound of birdsong and leaves rustling in the cool current.

That day, there were no rain-bloated clouds to ruin any outdoor plans like they had a day prior during the sleepover. Zita was free to walk among the rose bushes and let her troubled thoughts bustle in the breeze.

The princess spun around to see who was calling her. Her eyes immediately found Prince Adair. He bloomed above the pristinely pruned shrubbery, rapidly approaching her with gazelle-like leaps.

A heat simmered in Zita's chest. She immediately pivoted her back towards him and continued walking. She wasn't going to stop for him. In fact, she picked up her pace hoping to deliver a very clear message

"Sahali told me you might be here," Adair said, sprouting right beside her in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, you've found me" the princess' footsteps splashed as she veered onto the gravel path from the stone walkway. Zita was infuriated by how effortlessly he matched her rushing pace.

The palace had been keeping a volatile climate as of late. The pressure was clearly mounting on all fronts, not just hers. Everyone in the royal family was inexplicably busy and more elusive than she'd ever known them to be. Zita found it hard not to take their absence personally. Even though she knew that matters of national importance— and possibly an impending royal marriage— were more important than her personal distress, she had grown resentful of everyone who lived in that palace.

"Uh, Your Highness." The prince cleared his voice."There is someone here who would like to make your acquaintance." Although Zita wasn't looking at him, she could feel his eyes on her.

"How nice!" the princess said, bitingly sweet, "Someone has time for me for a change. Tell them I'm eternally grateful but, regretfully, busy."

"What with?"

Zita crashed to a stop. Her head whipped to meet Adair's squarely.

"Your Highness, words fail to express how honored I am that the Crown Prince of Haddon himself has deigned to deliver a message in the flesh to lowly, old me. But my time doesn't belong to you. And what I busy myself with is no concern of yours. I could be on my way to skin a frog or throw rocks at some geese. Either way, it's none of your business."

She began walking again, anger igniting her steps. Adair's presence itched at her side. She hadn't forgotten how he'd revealed that he knew her true name, only to avoid her like a plate of rancid anchovies. The princess convinced herself that he would use this information to manipulate her. It was only a matter of time.

"I'm sure the wildlife wouldn't mind if you rescheduled," he said. "Aren't you curious to know who it is?"

"Coyness is a very unattractive trait in a man." Zita scolded. "Spit it out or leave me alone."

Adair stumbled backward as if flicked on the nose.

"It's Yarin Boahdahn."

Zita's eyes screwed into the prince. "The poet?"

"He has offered to do a private reading today. If that should appeal to you," he said with his face slumping toward the ground.

Zita stared at him. She couldn't bring herself to fully believe that Adair had gone out of his way to find her only to reveal that her favorite poet had stopped by for a reading. That was a servant's job and he didn't give a flying potato about poetry.

"Is this a joke? Because I'm not in a joking mood."

"I can tell."

Zita tilted her head askew, confused by the actions of those around her. "Boahdahn's here?"