Hidden Princess by M A Roth

Author:M A Roth
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2020-04-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

SARAJANE

My stomach twists as he takes giant steps towards us. “Neve,” he barks, causing Neve to let me go and stand straight.

“Yes, sir.”

“You are on duty. This is not a resting period.”

“Sorry, sir,” Neve says and walks away while giving me an apologetic look.

“What is your problem? He was only dancing,” I say to Tristan, my temper rising.

He comes up to me, making me take a step back. He doesn’t come closer. “They are here for your safety and your father would be angry if anything happened to you.”

“What about you, would you care?” I ask, not quite sure where the courage came from. It knocks Tristan off for a moment. He takes a step closer and this time I don’t move. My legs are like jelly and I figure if I move, they’ll give way so I stand on locked legs.

“Yes, I would care.” My heart is pounding at his words. All I can do is stare at him as he stares back at me. His eyes flicker to the left and back to me and his face becomes hard again.

“Your father would demote me if you died.” He gives a quick bowing gesture. “Be careful, princess.” And he walks away. I stand there fuming and then to make it worse, my mother appears beside me. Tristan must have seen her approach.

“Sarajane, I’m sorry. You can’t keep avoiding me.” Her eyes beg me to listen. I don’t want to, but now that we are face to face my throat tightens.

“You just stood there.” The words are low, but she hears me, and all these things I expect her to say aren’t the words that leave her lips now. “He is my King.”

“He hit me,” I remind her before she says something that will do more damage.

“That man is your father and your king, Sarajane.” I throw my hands in the air with frustration, knowing this is a pointless conversation. “John is my father, and he is not my king.” I bite between my teeth. My mother flinches at my words.

“I know you’re hurting right now, but you need to be more careful with your words.” She reaches out to touch my face, her words gentler now and I step away from her touch. It’s not that simple for me, I feel like I’m standing in front of a stranger. She’s not the same mother who went missing six months ago. That mother would laugh, and bake with me and Jessica. She would yell from the kitchen for us to remove our boots and not destroy her washed floors. She was the mother who took us to the beach, watched movies on rainy nights. Not this woman who takes the role of some girl who’s blinded by love.

“Hurting doesn’t even begin to cover it Mum.” I see the hurt, and I hate that I put it there, but I can’t lie and tell her it’s okay because it’s not.

I walk away from my mother and find Alana where I left her, looking into the flames.

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