Page 37 of Falling Princess

What a stunning idea.

Is he wrong, though?

I can’t decide on the merits, but I am certain of one thing: “That’s appallingly overconfident of you.”

“Why don’t you believe in Auralia?” he asks, head tilted curiously, though whether he meant the goddess or the country named for her, I wasn’t sure.

“I have no idea what you mean.” His question unnerved me. Until this very moment, I’ve been thinking about ways to incorporate more democratic elements into our governance. Surely that’s the way of the future, especially if we want to engage the world. Hereditary dictatorships tend to be frowned upon. I nervously twirled a long strand of my hair. It slips through my fingertips in a soothing glide. “Auralia exists. It’s not some mythical creature, like unicorns or centaurs. There’s no belief necessary.”

He cocked his head, considering. “In our way of governance. Three independent races peaceably united under a single hereditary ruler. Isn’t that an accomplishment, Princess?”

“If you’d done the reading, you might know that we aren’t the only country to have a similar system. Right here in Scotland, for example. Queen Elizabeth of England is presently the ruling monarch, while Scotland maintains its own parliament and the United Kingdom negotiates international treaties. Not dissimilar to our arrangement with the Myseci and the Mountain Folk. And yet, here they still hold democratic elections.”

“Which led to Brexit, and the possible dissolution of the UK, if Scotland votes for independence.”

So, he had been paying attention in class—selectively. “Fair enough.”

“I’m not anti-democracy,” Lorcan said in a rush. “But I don’t understand why we should do things differently when our ways have worked for us, for so long.” He pauses, and then almost despite himself, adds, “Not every country has the descendant of a goddess to lead them.”

Heat explodes in my chest. “Oh, please. Not you, too.”

How embarrassing. I’m the human equivalent of Sky, my white stallion. Dams and sires selected from the best Auralian families, interbred through centuries, which I try not to think about. Undoubtedly, the true lineage has been broken dozens of times through war and strife, with the records lost to history—if not intentionally destroyed. It’slore, not fact.

Lorcan reminds me that I’m a living symbol. Nothing more. My life and my body aren’t really mine.

I hate it. What a depressing way to go through life.

His gaze dropped to his papers. “We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you. Why don’t you review sections 4a, 4c, and 5d, since you’re so determined to write about Auralia for your term paper. They’ll be the most relevant,” I said briskly, willing the awkward moment to pass. “Promise me one thing, Lorcan.”

“Anything.”

The way he said it did uncomfortable things to my insides. It stole my breath. I had to sip air until the feeling subsided.

“Speak with Professor Pigeon before launching into your paper on Auralia? Clear it with her first. There’s no point in setting yourself up for failure.”

“I won’t fail.”

I threw down my purple glitter pen and sat back in my chair, arms crossed. There’s bemusement on my appointed knight’s features as if he’s pleased with himself for getting under my skin.

“Don’t be cocky, Lorcan. One of these days, there will come a challenge even you can’t rise to.”

He smirked at that.

Fine. If he insists on failing, it’s not my job to save him.

CHAPTERTWELVE

“What an excellent idea!” Professor Pigeon practically clapped.

I’m too far away to overhear how Lorcan pitched his paper proposal. I’d ask, but that implies I want to know. At least he’s followed through with getting approval for his topic before writing it. Raina will never forgive me if I don’t find some means of salvaging Lorcan’s grade.

An expectant silence made me glance up to find Lorcan and the professor looking in my direction. Professor Pigeon motioned me over.

Uh-oh.

I approached the desk with trepidation.

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