His Unwanted Princess

Chapter 55

When we take a seat at the dining table, breakfast is served to all the guests. During this month, there haven't been many guests, so it's technically just all of the royal family members, me (though Emmet says I'm a part of this family now), and a few other business partners that help the king and his son. Emmet excepts his plate with a thank-you to the waitress, and when mine sits in front of me, he frowns and takes it away from me.

He holds it out toward the waitress and says, "Sorry, but my wife cannot stomach this. Can we get a lighter breakfast for her?"

"Emmet."

He turns to me and gives me a little shake of his head. He turns back to the woman waiting and says, "She's been throwing up often; I think she would do better with just some porridge."

"Are you sick?" Candace asks from across the table, her lips turned down in a frown just at the mention of me being unwell. Her eyebrows pull together as she watches me.

I give her a wave of my hand and say, "No. I'm fine. I've just been— as Emmet has been saying—throwing up recently. But nothing too bad." I laugh it off, trying to create some lightness between us, and Candace nods at me. My eyes stray to one of the queen's, who has been watching me with her eyes trained on mine. For a moment, I get scared of the sudden eye contact and start to squirm in my seat. She watches me for a long time before she simply nods and looks away.

I shake my head off of whatever that was and turn to Emmet, who had given my plate away already. I frown at him and say, "But Emmet, all I really want is the bacon."

"No, you don't," he tells me, and it makes me scowl at him.

He cracks a smile at that, his finger moving to the side of my lips as he says, "I haven't seen that in a while. Cute, but your smile doesn't beat anything around here."

My stomach flips in my chest from the casualty of his compliment. He trails his finger down from my face and stops at my collarbone. He has a look of worry on his face as he says, "But you're not feeling well, princess. I don't want you to continue to throw up every morning."

"It's fine," I tell him, cringing at the fact that he doesn't know that sometimes I throw up in the middle of the day. Thankfully, it happens when he isn't in our bedroom. This one is crazy and demands I see a nurse every single time I feel a little down. The other day, I told him I had a headache, and he really sent a nurse over to my room as soon as those words were shared. I turned the nurse down, and when he found out, he was disappointed in me. Leave it to the prince to assume that a nurse needs to check you out for any symptom you have of feeling unwell.

He gives me a small smile and says, "We're taking it easy, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agree, and he nods, pressing a kiss to my forehead. He moves back and then glances at his mother and father before turning back to me. "I'm scared, Anna. I haven't felt this much emotion in a while; it's making me grow a sweat."

I move my hand to his chest, and surely his heart is beating fast under my touch. I move my eyes up to his face—at its sudden paleness— and say, "It's okay, Emmet. I'm here. And I know this is a whole other thing that shifts your entire world, but I can't have you fainting around here. I need you."

"And I have a feeling I need to work out these feelings."

"Shooting arrows won't help."

His eyes stray on my frown, and he says, "But it does."

"Last night?"

He gives me a look of defeat and scratches the back of his neck. "Fine, you're right. But Anna, I'm just so scared."