Page 35 of The Dandelion Princess
Family Menace
ELLA
I hold my breath as he passes and grip the door. It resists me when I move to slam it because of the automatic mechanism that I, in my great wisdom, installed. I jump for the metal latch on the top of the jamb but my fingers brush the air. I jump again.
When Marc laughs in my face, it will be what I deserve.
He doesn’t laugh. He brushes my hand aside and presses the release, his breath stirring my hair. When he goes, he’ll deliver a final lecture, getting in a parting shot, and I’ll just have to stand here and take it.
He drops his arm and the air thickens between us, the narrow space crowded with memories and desires. I hate how much I always want him. In a panic, I push him out of my suite. I grab the door and swing hard, the sound of the slam echoing in my chest.
Vede, that was satisfying.
But the longer I stare at the raised panels, the more blurry my vision becomes. I bite my cheek. Tears are for people without a plan, saints on their pyres, and love-tossed sisters. They are not for me.
I sink onto the arm of the sofa, the heels of my hands pressed into my eyes. Why didn’t I change when I had the chance? The first rule of Seongan dramas is that the frothy wedding hat gets flung off as soon as disaster strikes. You can’t monologue with bouncing feathers. I look ridiculous, being sad in a dress as sweet as a cupcake.
The sound of muffled voices carries up the hall, and I brace my feet. My sisters.Flamen hell. They will descend upon me like Valkyries.
There is a list as long as my arm of mistakes they’ve made this year, so I stand with my shoulders back and chin up, not above fighting dirty. I stand there for what feels like forever, but the noise rises and falls like a wave, soon followed by the reasonable, muffled sound of doors closing.
They’re not coming? I bite hard on my lip, eyes stinging with unshed tears. They’re not coming. They don’t care enough to be mad and fight it out and hug and cry? None of them? I wait and wait, but the Summer Palace’s ancient bones are silent, filled with the sound of every one of us going her own way.
I blink rapidly. Leaving my royal life behind is more vital than ever. I could do it tomorrow, channeling my energies into peddling mid-level mustards, weight-loss pills, and family secrets.
Still. I thought they would care enough to fight—to send a delegate, at least, to shout my ear off about what I owe them. I glower at the door and turn, barking my shin on the coffee table that isn’t where it should be. At my cry, Marc barges through the door. He kicks it shut, tosses his jacket aside, and gathers me into his arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Or just feeling sorry for yourself?”
It’s embarrassing, needing him as much as I do. “I thought you left.”
“Do you still want to take my head off?”
I burrow into him as his arms tighten around me. “I couldn’t do that to the women of Sondmark.VrouwWOWcalled your face the best thing that has happened to this country since we deepened the harbor.”
I can see Marc’s smile even without seeing it—the cocky tilt of his brow, the divot in his cheek—but when speaks, his voice is gentle. “I’m sorry for being a jerk about those guys at the party. I don’t know where that came from.”
Under my hand, his heart beats out a steady rhythm.
I lift my head, catch my reflection in a mirror, and recoil. My mascara is thumbing a ride to Paris, my lipstick has vanished, and I look like I need a rabies shot.
“I am not radioactive,” I say, rubbing my eyes.
“Of course not.” He pushes a handkerchief into my hands.
I mop up, and he tucks me closer. I say, somewhere from the vicinity of his shirt pocket, “You’re right. I didn’t think about the mess it was going to make for Alma.”
“You apologize to your sister and we’ll figure the rest of it out,” he says, stroking my hair. “Are you going to delete the accounts?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Finally, he nods. “I’m sorry if I sounded like—” He tightens his hold.
“An overbearing brother,” I force myself to laugh. “I know it’s difficult to remember I’m a grown up.”
Marc stills, tense as an animal at the sound of an unknown footfall. “It isn’t.”
The words deserve attention, but I’m too intent on managing my reaction to his nearness to parse out the meaning. I shouldn’t be in his arms, curving my body against him like it’s as easy as breathing. This is the danger of Marc. This is why I love him.Lovedhim. This is why I cut myself off, limiting myself to a smile and a wave at tiara events.Everythingwith Marc is easy.
