The Last Princess by Galaxy Craze

Author:Galaxy Craze [CRAZE, GALAXY]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: JUV001000
ISBN: 9780316202824
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2012-05-07T16:00:00+00:00

After some searching, Wesley returned with several cans of vegetable soup. “Expired, but they should still be good,” he said quietly. He moved aside the pot of water to place the soup over the flame. When it was hot, he ladled it into two wooden bowls. I wrapped my hands in the makeshift bandages he’d cut from a sheet, hopeful at how clean the wounds looked, and sipped the steaming broth directly from the bowl. Already I felt stronger.

Wesley was heating a fresh pot of salted water over the fire. When it was just about boiling, he dipped in another strip of the torn bedsheet. “Okay,” he said. “Now the burn.”

He reached out and cleaned my cheek with the warm cloth, his touch gentle. “I can’t believe Portia did this,” he said quietly.

I paused and then spoke evenly. “You were together once, weren’t you?”

Wesley started to laugh, a sad, bitter laugh, and shook his head. He looked me squarely in the eye. “Portia and I were never together,” he said slowly. “Eliza, she’s my sister.”

My mouth opened in surprise. I thought suddenly of their matching dark green eyes, dark blond hair, high cheekbones. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. “But you’re so… different.”

He reapplied the warm cloth. “We were inseparable as kids. But after my mother died, Portia changed.”

I looked around, a wave of understanding washing over me. This cottage was the last thing he had of his mother. “I’m sorry,” I managed.

“Portia thought our mother had abandoned us. But she didn’t. She would never leave us.” His expression hardened. “My father killed her and made it look like a suicide.”

I blinked at him, startled by his honesty. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be—truly unthinkable—to know that your father killed your mother. He turned away from me, balling his hands into such tight fists that when he opened them, his palms were dotted with blood.

“But why?” I whispered, unable to stop myself.

“She… found out things about him.” He began poking at the fire, the flames jumping out in vicious reds. “I come back here sometimes, to think, and be alone. Portia never does. I’m not sure if she remembers it at all. I’m sorry,” he interrupted himself. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I’m glad you did.” I laid my hand upon his. I recognized a sadness in him, the same sadness I felt. The kind that finds you as a child and sits there forever, never leaving you.

“Did you tell anyone?” I asked quietly.

“No, not even Portia. If my father was put in prison, we would have been all alone. I wanted to spare her from the pain. But…” He trailed off, staring into the fire.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again. “That must have been a terrible choice.”

“You know the strangest part?” His voice sounded bitter. “I still love my father, even knowing what he did. And at the same time I hate him, for who he is, and for what he did to Portia.”

I said nothing.

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