The Unwanted Princess

Let Me Explain

The dawn light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting a soft glow over the room. I woke to the warmth of Simon's presence beside me, his steady breathing a reminder of the previous night's conversation. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to bask in the quiet comfort, but reality quickly intruded.

What am I doing admiring the way his calm expression makes him seem charming? When my eyes drifted over to his lips, how dare I imagine the way he might kiss me at the altar. I know damn well there was nothing to read into, but the carefulness that he carries out the more intimate part of his duties makes my heart stutter. The fact that I know how conscious he is of my presence warms me up like a fire on a snowy night.

I wonder too if he knows how much he wanders through my mind. I am not exactly hiding it with the way that I speak. It's not that I fancy him—heavens, I don't even know what it means to—but I have grown to be comfortable in his presence. He annoys the life out of me, yes, but I cannot deny the safety he brings into my life.

I live in the secrets of who I truly am. My entire family does. Our dark skin is considered dirty and gives away how my ancestors used to dilly with servants and lowly Nobles of their time. But Simon... he said he likes the way I look or at least doesn't mind it.

His words are surprising to my ears as I have heard nothing but negativity when it comes to my appearance, but it is not surprising coming from him. Simon is not the frivolous type. I doubt such things bother him at all. There are very few Royals or Nobles I have ever met like that.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the serenity. "Your Majesty, Lady Elara, an urgent message has arrived," called a servant from the hallway.

I glanced at Simon, who was already sitting up, alert. "What could it be this early?" I wondered aloud, my heart beginning to race with apprehension.

Simon rose from the bed, his expression unreadable. "We'll find out soon enough," he replied, pulling on his robe.

I followed suit, pulling my own robe over my nightgown and slipping my slippers on. We shuffled out into the hall, the dim candlelight guiding our way to follow the butler. When I saw that we were rapidly approaching the Queens quarters my heart dropped to my ass. What could have possibly happened now? Very few things came to mind.

Maybe word got out about our arranged marriage? Or maybe whatever is going on between the Royal Family and my family was revealed? Perhaps our most recent photos together weren't convincing enough for the Queen?

The butler creaked the grand doors open. The room was massive, bigger than anything I have ever seen. High ceilings, intricate artwork marrying the walls, a bed so big I don't even know the proper name for such a beast, and carpeting that looked so soft I couldn't help but take my slipper off for a moment to just feel it for myself. Simon cleared his throat, snapping me back to reality. I quickly put my slipper back on and followed him further into the room, where the Queen stood by the window, her expression grave.

"Mother," Simon greeted her with a respectful bow. I mirrored his action, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Simon, Elara," the Queen began, her voice heavy with concern. Her eyes stared at me with surprise for a moment, then with disgust. Right, I guess I could have bothered to put on some of that awful-smelling white foundation before coming in here. "We have received disturbing news. It appears there is unrest brewing in the southern provinces. Several nobles are expressing their dissatisfaction with the recent changes at court."

I exchanged a worried glance with Simon. The political climate had been tense ever since our marriage, and it seemed the pressure was finally boiling over.