Chapter 22- No Comment
I attend dinner still wearing my T-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. These are more my style, not those tight and elegant dresses. The dresses are nice and all, but I am sick of them. I'm not in the best mood today after the whole Charlie incident this morning, and I prefer to wear what I feel most comfortable in. Charlie sits across from me and I find his eyes locked on me. Charlie and I had time to get ready for dinner, so that makes me the only one who decided to wear 'non-proper' clothing.
My dish comes out and it's another stupid salad. I groan right there on the spot, and I slump in my chair. More eyes lock on me but ya know, I don't really care. I notice this time there is no chicken at all in my salad.
I shift around in my seat and my limbs ache more. Charlie told me in training to do the moves I learned yesterday on Oliver, who was wearing protective gear. When I first saw him, I couldn't help but giggle. It reminded me of the time when Miles and Jasper were wrestling each other and they wrapped bubble wrap all over themselves. Marko wore a suit that pretty much looked like that.
All I did was do my self-defense moves on him, and Charlie would tell me what I could improve on and then I'd try again. We did it all day until he didn't have many things to perfect. I am a quick learner at some stuff, while others... not so much. Self-defense was one of those where I was pretty quick at learning.
My tongue didn't create one word towards Charlie the rest of the day. There wasn't anything good to say, so I just kept myself mute. In return, the only thing he spoke to me were tips for my moves. Nothing else.
While I sip a glass of ice water, I notice that Queen Chelsea keeps looking at me. Her expression like yesterday: like she smelled something bad. I get up from my seat, not asking if I can be excused and without eating. I am not hungry anyways.
"Arizona," Queen Chelsea calls out in a cold tone, "Sit. You aren't excused."
I sit back down and she continues, "Why are you wearing that?" She raises her eyebrows, expecting me to give a proper answer since it is in front of everyone. Well, she is mistaken.
"Well, why are you wearing that?" I reply. That huge puffy velvet dress doesn't flatter her very well, if I may say so myself. The sleeves puff up at the shoulders too much and the dress is just too puffy.
Her eyes widen and if this was a cartoon, you would see fire spewing from those hazel eyes and steam coming out of her ears. Her eyes burning holes into me, and I just sit there with a bored look across my face. The intensity is so high that you could hear a cockroach take a step [if there were cockroaches in this castle]. Everyone was silent. Not a peep.
"May I be excused, your Majesty?" I spit out like the words tasted as awful as my salad.
"Yes, you may." She says, through gritted teeth.
As I walk out, I give all of them a fake smile and a wave. This time, I know my way to my room. No wrong turns. No struggling. Right now, the day has been weary and frustrating. I dig through my wardrobe.
Gown. Gown. Gown. Gown. They're all gowns! Can I please have a tank top and shorts that I didn't sweat in? Or pajama pants? Gosh, I just want something other than a gown, but I snatch a random gown and take it with me to the bathroom.
***
I come out of the bathroom after soaking in warm water for about thirty minutes with my gown on. My hair drips water onto the carpet. I didn't bother to dry my hair even though with the technology, it only takes a minute or so. The necklace still remains on my neck. I bathed with it on without realizing.
YOU ARE READING
Forced Royal
General FictionArizona Touris is content with her simple but beautiful life with her brother, Miles, and her best friend, Jasper. But when her eighteenth birthday comes around, Arizona is forced to marry the prince. While people tell the couple that they'll grow t...