A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

My heart ached like my uncertainty had wrapped around it, squeezing.

> “Goodbye, Princess.”

I couldn’t say a word as he walked away, my gaze fixed unseeingly. Numbness settled into my chest, deep and heavy. And it was as the stone wall in front of me blinked into black and white, that I recognized this feeling.

I knew this feeling . . .

But I wouldn’t even let myself think it out loud. What a sick and twisted game Alyria had played on me. Maybe this was punishment for who I was, of what I could do. The music flowing down the alley suddenly took a melancholy dip as if it was serenading, mocking, my realization.

This one word, this feeling . . .

I hated it.

But I realized then, that I hated this pain in my chest even more.

My mother’s ageing servant answered the door, her gray hair swept into an elegant bun on the top of her head, her plain white dress thin and flowing to her ankles.

“I think I’m in love,” I said completely passionless, having come to terms with it on my walk here.

She watched me with a blank look for a moment, before shouting, “Reina!” and then she walked away.

“I told you not to shout at me anymore, Samira! It’s improper!” my mother hollered back, her voice getting closer as she came to the door.

Her face fell when she came into view and saw my imploring expression. “Oh, no. You’re with child, aren’t you? Like mother like daughter . . . well played, Alyria, well played,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

“What? No. I’m not with child. Worse! I think I’m in love!” I told her as I strolled into the foyer and past her into the drawing room.

She followed behind me. “Oh, dear. Not with that Untouchable prince, I hope.”

I blinked, remembering she’d seen me with him at the ball. “No, of course not,” I assured, shaking my head. “With the Titan prince.”

My mother’s eyes widened as she fell onto the chaise. “Which one? Not the one who killed his—”

My expression cut her off.

“Lord,” she breathed. “Mother is going to have a fit about this!”

“But she’ll never know! Because he’s leaving and . . . I have this very strange feeling in my chest like I can’t breathe. And it’s most uncomfortable. How do I make it go away?”

My mother watched me, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I don’t know. Don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before.”

I fell on the chaise across from her with a sigh.

“You must merely find a new man to focus on. Like Alis,” she said, pleased with herself that she had fit that in seamlessly.

“But it’s like every other man will not do. And besides Weston almost killed Alis today—broke his face, in fact—so I do not think he wants me anymore. Anyway, I’ve heard he has designs to offer for Juliana.”

She sat up. “What! Oh, no, no, no. I told Mother that I would get you pledged. And Alis is the only one who has strong enough connections to please her.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why does Grandmother want me married off?”

Her lips fell into a thoughtful pout. “It is important to have a strong ally on your side, Cal. If Alis has really planned on Juliana—which seems odd, considering just yesterday he was settled on you . . .” she narrowed her eyes at me, “then we need to find you someone new and quickly.” My mother cursed softly, sitting back on the chaise, before shouting, “Samira!”

She arrived, standing in the doorway, looking at my mother with annoyance.

“Wine, please. I think I feel a headache coming on,” my mother said, putting a hand to her temple.

Samira eyed my mother for a moment, then headed to the side table, muttering, “It is because you’ve already drunk too much wine today.”