Page 3 of His Princess Brat
Chapter Two
Pita
“No.” I, Pita Okoro, Princess of Bahar, stared down my mother, Queen Amara of Bahar with a scowl I had spent half my life perfecting, and only used on my parents, and only in times like this, when they were being painfully, utterly royal.
Royal pains in the ass.
“You can’t say no, darling,” my mother coolly replied. “It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t giving you an option. On the contrary, I was simply telling you what is going to happen.”
Panic built in my chest as I scrambled to find a way out of this new fresh hell my mother had designed for me.
“I don’t want to,” I insisted further, bereft that I was incapable in this particular moment to come up with a better argument.
By some small miracle, my mother seemed to soften. She frowned, then sighed, and finally crossed the room to sit on the end of my obnoxiously large four-poster, fit-for-a-princess bed. “Sometimes, darling,” she began, patting a spot on the comforter next to her, and motioning for me to sit, “sometimes, as royalty, we have to put aside our wants for the good of the country. This is one of those times.”
Still scowling, I continued to stand as far across the room as I could get. “Please explain to me how traveling hundreds of miles away, putting on a fancy dress, and parading myself in front of a room full of misogynistic, arrogant, and dubiously gentrified old men is for the good of our country.”
Somehow my mother managed to make even an eye roll look regal and elegant, a talent I, myself, certainly did not possess. If I rolled my eyes, I ended up looking more like a deranged hyena, which is why I stuck to my perfected scowl. “First of all, you won’t be circulating yourself in a court of old men. Old-fashioned and well bred, perhaps, but certainly not old in a geriatric sense.”
“That’s not the point,” I huffed, preparing myself to go head to head with her until I eventually got my way. The way I saw it, one of us had to back down at some point and it certainly wouldn’t be me. Not on this.
“I know, darling, the point is that you were raised sheltered, spoiled, and carefree, always able to do whatever you wanted without regard to how it affected anyone else.”
“So? What’s wrong with that? And if I am that way, it’s your doing. Yours and Father’s.”
“I never said it wasn’t.” Realizing that I wasn’t about to come sit on the bed with her for some sweet Hallmark-movie-worthy mother-daughter chat, my queenly mother rose and crossed the room until there was only five feet between us. “The lifestyle you are describing is exactly what we wanted for you. It is how we intended you to be raised, to be only responsible for your own self and your actions and the consequences thereof. And you got to live that way for twenty-four, nearly twenty-five years now. But things have changed, and it’s time for you to grow up and become a proper young princess. Do what is best for your country, Pita, and this kingdom.”
“It’s not fair!” I argued, still unable to come up with something better, and knowing deep down that no matter what I said, it still wouldn’t matter anyway.
Mother was holding on tight to her ace card. And spoiled though I might be, even I could see it was a good one. “Life isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair for any of us. Do you think this is what I wanted for you after all these years? Do you think I wanted to lose my firstborn son, and be forced to replace his spot in line for the throne?”
And there it was. Her ace in the hole. My older brother, Jabari, had died in a hunting accident over a year ago, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been expecting this from the moment we received the news.
Of course I’d known it was coming and, like my parents, I had hoped that I would have, in time, gotten used to the idea.
I hadn’t. Well, maybe I had, in some ways, accepted my inevitable fate as heir to the throne, but I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t foreseen being shipped off to stay with a distant cousin that I’d only briefly met at his wedding last year. I hadn’t foreseen being forced to participate in the antiquated tradition of a bridal marriage market. I hadn’t foreseen being told that I wasn’t proper or ladylike enough for the position that was being forced upon me, and being expected to rectify that issue under the guidance of some distant relative, whose own royal roots were either laughable or laudable, depending on which side of the issue one chose to pitch their diplomatic tent.
“I’m the second born,” I shouted, giving my foot an unladylike stomp for good measure. “I’m not supposed to have to worry about this. And it’s not fair. Jabari wasn’t just your son, or just heir to the throne. He was my brother and I miss him.” I bit my tongue to keep my voice from cracking on those last three words.
“I know you miss him,” my mother responded with her quiet coolness, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Jabari never wanted to leave this earth, and I’m certain that he would have never chosen to put any of us in this position. But Jabari also loved his country, and loved the people of Bahar, and would have wanted our family’s reign to continue unchallenged. For that reason, I am certain this is the best way for you, and for all of us, to honor his memory.”
Ugh. Her speech was true, heartfelt, and gut-punching all at the same time, making it hard for me to not give in. I knew that eventually I would have to, but I wasn’t ready, not yet.
“I’m not your only remaining heir, Mother,” I reminded her. “Tradition dictates that the line for the throne goes first to the men, and then the ladies. So I’m not next in line, Talib is. Ask him.”
