4 Princes

VIII

"But the girl did not care for the man as a girl ought to care for her betrothed husband. She did not feel that she could trust him, and she could not look at him nor think of him without an inward shudder."
(Brothers Grimm: The Robber Bridegroom)

ADAM
JUST AS A MAN who hates his mother is a man too cruel for me to brave, any person who hates flowers is one I wish to never face.

So when Belle came outside into the garden and immediately wanted to go back inside, I deflated.

"But look at the roses!" I ventured further into the Summer garden, pulling her behind me. I reached out and pulled a rose from the bush. I watched it prick my finger. Blood slid down the stem, dripping onto the soft green grass below.

She winced. "I don't care about your flowers, I don't care about your garden, I want to go home."

If I let her go back home now, my father would hate me more than he hated Rook, and that was saying something. "Belle, you know I can't do that."

I shoved the rose into my pocket, saving it for her later. She'd come around, she would.

"Don't you have morals?" She stared at me with eyes so kind I could hardly believe they could ever be angry.

"Of course, my mother taught me to always be kind, to be just." And she had, it was one of the things my dad would get angry with her over.

My dad and mom rarely fought, but when they did it was over how I was being raised. My mom wanted me to be fair and righteous while my dad wanted me to be raised brutally and with no mercy.

They compromised. I'm a little bit of everything.

"Well then let me go."

"You hate my garden, you hate my training, you don't want to go home because you're supposed to marry some guy, but you keep asking for me to let you go. WHERE do you want to be!?" I shouted.

My chest was rising up and down while I breathed heavily.

She took a step back, her eyes wide with fear. "Anywhere but with you. While you're a better alternative than Gaston, I'd still rather not marry anyone."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that bad. I'm not that bad." Sure I wasn't the most handsome, or the smartest, or the deadliest— but I was the nicest of my brothers.

"You kill people and you own your women and you— you!" She stomped her foot. "You yell!" She screamed out.

I blinked back at her in confusion, but once that confusion wore away I was angry once again. "I don't yell! I have anger problems and you make them come out!"

I was yelling, she was right, but I wasn't going to admit that. How dare she treat me like I'm something horrible. I didn't want to marry her. But like she kept saying, our alternatives were much worse.

Hers was marrying some guy and mine was peace with a king who killed and starved their people.

"I don't act like I own you," I spurred out.

She widened her eyes, throwing her arms up. "I hate gardens! They're just not my thing. I tried telling you that but you were so persistent that I come out here and see some roses."