Page 49 of His Princess Brat
We had the same reaction to what the other had said too.
“What?” we both declared. One word with entirely too much feeling behind it. Shock. Surprise. Anger. Sadness.
“I—” he began, seeming stunned.
“Don’t,” I ordered, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare say another stupid word, Azid. I’m not going to sit here, listening while you break my heart out of some misplaced, antiquated, chauvinistic honor code that nobody asked you to adhere to. I know people are talking about me. I know I’m going to be the laughingstock for months to come. I don’t care about any of that. I love you, and that’s all that matters to me. Who cares about their stupid opinions, if I have you by my side?”
As I spoke, my voice rising steadily as I poured out my passion and feelings, I watched Azid deflate.
“I love you too, Princess,” he said sadly, without the smile I was so used to seeing him wear. “That’s why I need to ask you to please not make this harder than it needs to be.”
“I don’t understand. That makes no sense. If I love you and you love me, why does it have to be hard at all?”
“Because you’re a princess,” Azid persisted, his argument predictably weak, “and you came here looking for a husband.”
“Right.” I nodded. Everyone knew that. My brother had died; I came here to my cousin’s court. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what I was here for. “So?” I challenged. “So what? Why can’t it be you? Or is that just part of the game? Is this how you go through life, captivating innocent women, bending them to your will, fulfilling deep-rooted fantasies they didn’t even know they had, and making them fall so desperately in love with you that it feels as if they need you like they need their next breath of air? Is that what you do right before you cast them aside, like yesterday’s dirty garments, giving them some piteous and self-serving excuse, telling them it’s for their own good, and you’re too wounded to be the man they need? Is this when you lean on your poor pathetic background? Poor little Azid, the New York boy from the wrong side of the tracks, who is just too broken to be a real man, so he just puts on an act until someone falls for it, playing into his game and giving him the ego stroke he so desires? Is that who you are? Is that what you do?” I didn’t believe a single word I was saying, but the more I said, the more it just came pouring out of me. It all just took on a life of its own, rooting each awful scenario deep in my brain until I was near hysterical. It didn’t help that Azid, instead of getting angry and defensive, just stood there.
“Don’t do this.” He reached for my hands, but I yanked away. “Pita, it’s not like that. I promise you that I would give anything in my power to make things different, but they aren’t.”
“But why aren’t they?” I argued. “You keep talking, but you’re not saying anything!”
“It’s a tossup between wanting to delay the inevitable and you not allowing me a word in edgewise.”
I glared at him, then pursed my lips tightly, pretending to zip them up and throw away the key, like my brothers and I had done when we were children.
“I don’t have anything to offer you,” Azid finally said. “You’re about to be queen of a country, and now you’re going to go into it with a sullied reputation. Thanks to me.”
“Thanks to the fact that you won’t marry me, you mean.”
“You don’t want that, Pita. You think you do, but you don’t. I’m not ‘husband to the queen’ material.”
“You’re ‘King Mazi’s best friend’ material,” I pouted. “I don’t see you telling him he’s too good for you.”
“It’s different. Mazi didn’t propose.”
“It’s not that different,” I persisted.
“It is. Pita, you’re royalty, and to steal your own words, I’m just a poor little New York boy from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“That stuff doesn’t matter! People’s opinions don’t matter! I want to marry for love, Azid. My parents promised me I could. My mom was just on the phone, she practically told me to propose!”
“She must not have gotten the whole story yet,” Azid muttered, rubbing both hands over his shaved head. That he would dare speak in code right now only infuriated me further.
“What does that mean?” I asked with a foot stomp.
“It means... Pita, I do love you. Coming here today was the hardest thing I have ever done. But had I known you were looking for a husband, I never would have done any of it. I would have kept my distance and left well enough alone. Or, at least I’d have tried a whole lot harder.”
“But why?” I pressed. “You said my mother must not have gotten the whole story. What’s the whole story?”
“Pita.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. I could tell a bombshell was about to be dropped and I held my breath, waiting. “I’m not husband material. I’m a stripper. Mazi and I used to dance at the same club.”
Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn’t that. My face must have shown my shock. What he thought he read on it must have been disgust, because he both looked and sounded broken when he turned from me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I tried to catch his arm, but he stormed from my room, putting what felt like an irrefutable end to any argument I might have had.
For the record, I didn’t have any. As I stared after his retreating back, only one thought remained.
