The Unwanted Princess

A Clash of Crowns

The waiting game—everybody's least favorite sport. Everything I had said thus far felt repetitive and overly explained, but that was precisely how it occurred. Each meeting, debriefing, minute, hour, day, and week blurred into a monotonous cycle, each moment dragging into the next like a slow, unwinding clock.

Some days crawled by in a dull haze, where waiting was all we could do until the perfect moment arrived to set our plans into motion. I wasn't entirely sure what we were even waiting for, but I trusted that Simon and the boys had it all under control.

Every so often, I would catch a glimpse of one of them wandering the palace. The sprawling estate was so vast that it was nearly impossible to keep track of who came and went. They tended to keep to themselves, as did I. A few pleasantries would pass between us, but nothing deeper. My curiosity nagged at me; I wondered about their lives beyond this confinement.

So many hours spent together in silence could make anyone's mind wander. Did they have children? Wives? What were their true personalities like behind the walls of duty? Did they find me insufferable? Did any of them even like me? Where were they from? What tales did their hometowns hold?

I often found solace in the gardens, the soft rustle of leaves accompanying my thoughts, or I would stroll through the library, my fingertips gliding over the aged spines of books as if I were searching for stories hidden in their pages. When no one was looking, I would sit at Simon's desk, rifling through his drawers, not really searching for anything but hoping to uncover a piece of his world.

Liora, my handmaid, often kept me company during the day, a breath of fresh air amidst the emptiness that enveloped the palace. Recently, she had captured the interest of a boy from her village. Their meetings had blossomed into something sweet—afternoons in the park, candlelit dinners, and whispers of secret rendezvous at his home.

"What does he look like?" I asked, a mouthful of cheeses and salami marring my speech. Liora had brought a charcuterie board up to Simon's and my room, and we lounged on the bed, our makeshift feast spread between us.

"He's got brown hair, cut short..." Her voice took on a dreamy tone. "Only a little taller than me, but that just means I get to be closer to his face."

I couldn't help but smile, my heart buoyed by her joy. "Don't get pregnant now."

Her cheeks flushed a royal shade of pink as she shot me a glare. "Princess, please!"

"You're so easy to tease, Liora." I laughed. "I'm glad he makes you happy."

A mischievous grin crept across her face as she twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. "He does indeed."

"Liora!" I gasped, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. "How vulgar!" I playfully poked at her.

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. Our dynamic shifted so easily when I treated her as a friend rather than a servant. "Don't even try to convince me that you and his majesty haven't done the same."

I shook my head, a goofy grin still plastered on my face. "By heavens, no."

"I truly don't believe you," she gaped. "There's just no way. Sure, you don't get along, but since when has that stopped anybody? Everyone has needs."

"I think he may be celibate," I said quietly, scrunching my face as if the thought itself were sour. "Or maybe it's just that we're not a match in personality—or physically."

"Oh, don't be so porous—"

"I'm being serious, Liora." I dragged out my vowels, whining like a child. "I don't really care, to be honest—"

"Blasphemy!" She exclaimed, as if I had just committed the gravest of sins. "Sex is rejuvenating for the soul."

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on my lips. "Sure, Liora. Are you some sort of free spirit now?"