Pariah

Chapter Seven

When they got home that night, Damian was afraid to show his face to his mother so he skipped supper and pretended to be busy revising his combat lessons on the training ground. He knew that unlike Violet, Princess Brianna had no flaws so Sir John would not be there to justify the rejection this time.
Just when he thought his plan was working, Anthony came to the training ground wearing that particular look he always did whenever he had a message from Damian's parents.
"I told you this wouldn't work, didn't I?" Anthony huffed as he marched in.
Damian's shoulder slumped in defeat. He must have been stupid to think he could actually escape his mother's questions.
"What did she say?" he managed to pull his shoulders back up.
"The queen says you should leave whatever you're doing on the training ground and come to the dining hall straight away," Anthony broke it to him.
The prince heaved a sigh. Then, sluggishly, he went to the dining hall with Anthony.
"I was told you were skipping supper to train," Lauren said as he came in through the door, her eyes wide with sarcasm.
Damian looked down slowly, a pang of guilt cutting through him. The questions were going to rain down now, he knew that for sure. And his mother wasn't going to be too pleased about his answers. This was going to be one long supper.
Lauren pointed sternly to a chair. "Sit down, Damian. Take a dish and eat. We need to talk."
Anthony knew he was the third party here now so with a courtly salute, he left the hall for the mother and her son.
As the door clicked shut, the queen held a straight face at her son, "Sir John told me about Princess Brianna. What made you say no again?"
Damian stiffed. The words stuck in his throat. What could he say anyway? That he didn't just feel like getting married yet? Straight lane to her rage!
At most, he found himself saying, "It's just..." and not a thing more.
"It's just what?" his mother pressed on impatiently.
Now there was a longer reply. "It's just that those princesses are..."
"Those princesses are what?" once more, his mother had to cut into the silence that followed. She leaned over her food and looked into her son's hesitant eyes, "Damian, you do realise that if you had a sister, she'd be a princess too, right? What aren't you telling me? What's the real reason you turned her down?"
"I just can't bring myself to accept any of them!" Damian forced the words out. His heart raced as he said them, relief and fear creeping in all at once.
"I see what's going on here," Lauren crossed her arms with a thoughtful hum. "You don't want to be matchmade."
Mother doesn't understand, the prince thought to himself, smothering a sigh. It wasn't about the matchmaking, it was about him not being interested in tying the knot just yet.
But the queen seemed to be way ahead of him on her own idea. She shrugged high and waved a hand at him. "If you're being stubborn because you don't want to be matchmade, I'll take down the list then. Travel out on your own and search for a bride."
Then, she huffed; memories seemed to be flooding in again. Damian could see a far tear glint in her right eye. "Why do you have to be so much like your father? He was stubborn about his marriage too... just like this. He hated the matchmaking." She wiped the hardly-there tear away from her eye and sighed wistfully. "It's fine. I'll take down the list and stop the visits. I'll let you choose a bride on your own."
Damian blinked. His mother wasn't a mind reader, that was certain. How would he explain to her now that he wasn't just... in the mood for marriage yet? She'd be very angry, but it was now or never. He had to try telling her again. Whatever happened, at least, he'd have freedom in his own matters. Yes, he'd say it now. He was only short of... every iota of courage to spit out the words! He felt terrified. Why did he have to be such a coward? Scared of everything!
He was in the middle of blaming himself when a knock came on the door. It was Sir John.
"Good evening, Your Majesty. There's an invitation here for you from the minister of culture," he announced.
The queen told him to come in, and he entered with an intricately decorated invitation card in his hand.
"My queen, the annual cross-country fair is to hold the day after tomorrow, and you're cordially invited to grace the occasion." The courtier handed the card to Lauren.
She took it and shook her head. "The day after tomorrow. There's an important land meeting on that day. I didn't realise the fair was so near."
"I'll send a message to the minister then," the courtier nodded.
But suddenly, the queen seemed to change her mind. She turned to her son. "On second thought, Damian, you should go on my behalf." Then, a smile pulled across her face, "It's the cross-country fair, all royalty and nobility are invited. Who knows, you might just find your bride there."
Just great, Damian sighed inaudibly. This was what he got for not being bold enough to stand up for himself; more dictation. But a day at the fair didn't sound so bad. Especially when the other option was spending it on the training ground with Maverick.
"I'll attend," he agreed. Then, he nodded at the card in the queen's hand. "But can I get an unofficial invite instead of that one? I don't want to draw too much attention to myself."
Lauren spent a fleeting moment wondering why he would want it that way, but shrugged it off and smiled. "That's fine. We'll get you one."
"Thank you, Mother," he said, only as satisfied as anyone in his situation could be. Now, he took a plate for supper.