For the Rebellion

Chapter 11 - Playing the Game

I couldn't stop the mix of emotions flooding my chest, nor my racing heartbeat as it pounded against those emotions. My hand was gracefully laced through Prince Theodred's arm. He hadn't shown a single sign of suspecting me. Was it just for show? Was this why he'd tried to get me alone? So he could accuse me?

No...that didn't seem right. I'd seen the way his face had softened. I hated the pity, but I'd take that over suspicion.

I made a show of inhaling deeply before sighing. "Sometimes I forget how nice it is to get out of doors," I admitted, keeping my voice soft. No matter how much I hated him, I could do this, I could pretend that meeting him was the absolute highlight of my entire life. I'm sure he was used to that. Expected it, even.

"I'm the same way. It can get...stifling in the great keep. My favorite thing to do is escape into the open sky."

I let out a little giggle, then secretly congratulated myself on how genuine it sounded. "I suppose when you're a dragon you have the freedom to just...fly off into the sunset. Gods, how marvelous."

It really did sound incredible; I didn't have to fake the sentiment. If only I could do the same. If only I could disappear, run from my betrothed and never look back. My father's decision to push through with my impending wedding had nearly broken me. Forcing those thoughts from my mind, I tugged on the prince's arm, feigning friendliness.

"It has saved me many a time," he admitted.

"Saved you from what? Your parties?" I kept my voice light, even though I wanted to scoff instead.

"You heard about those, did you?" He sounded almost...rueful. I hadn't expected that. Usually he gloated about it.

"I think the entire kingdom has, but it's no matter. If I could be hosting parties, I would be."

"Your headaches?"

I hesitated. "My father told you, then, what ails me?"

"He did. How...how bad are they?" He turned and looked down at me. I swallowed, unprepared for the obvious concern in his expression, the softening of his gaze. I didn't want concern. I didn't want softness. I didn't want anything that might make me believe he had a heart lurking somewhere deep inside him.

"I...they can get pretty bad. I've taken healer remedies for them but...they never go away entirely. And they always come back."

I'd had them long enough that I'd learned to live with them. I'd never imagined that the pain might become chronic. Despite hating him—really hating him—I found myself wanting to tell him more. That only annoyed me, because there was no explanation for it.

Well, I supposed there was. It was easy to talk to him like this, to pretend I was only Sophie Lasker. It was easy to pretend that I didn't know what a selfish little princeling he was.

To keep my true identity safe, I leaned into the act and I let myself pretend we were just two people out for a stroll. He helped me up the stairs, going slow, letting me lean on his arm. I feigned weakness, because I wasn't so weak as to climb stairs, or draw a bow, or run from a drengr in the heat of a fight.

But the headaches...those weren't a lie. The lack of sleep didn't help things. I might have felt a little guilty for playing up my ailment with my father, but I used it to my advantage, and without it, I would have been married off years ago, and the people of Woodport would have been without a leader for their rebellion. It was worth the punishment, those days stuck in bed where even just a prick of light made my head feel like it was splitting open.

"They started after my mother died," I explained. "Father thought it was the stress. Torin and Soren took her death hard too, but in their own ways. Torin started going out and finding girls to kiss." The prince grinned, like he could fully understand. "While Soren began hiding away in the library. He loves nothing more than being buried in his books."