Аманда Хокинг - Switched

“Perhaps,” Elora forced a thin smile at him, giving him a hard look, but he stared back at her, his eyes meeting hers unabashedly. “But my wishes are still the highest order, and until that has changed, my word will remain final.”

Her smile deepened, growing even more menacing. “With all due respect, tracker, perhaps you care too much for her wishes, and too little for her duties.”

His expression faltered momentarily, but he quickly met her eyes again. “Was it not your duty to inform her of the specifics of the christening and have her completely ready for tomorrow?”

“It was,” Finn replied without any trace of shame.

“It seems you may have failed at your duties, as well,” Elora surmised.

“I’m beginning to question how exactly you’ve been filling your time with the Princess. Has any of it been spent on training?”

Suddenly, Rhys knocked over a glass of wine. The glass shattered and liquid splattered everywhere. Everyone had been too busy staring at Elora and Finn, but I had seen him out of the corner of my eye. Rhys had done it on purpose, and as soon as the glass went over, the attention was refocused. He started apologizing and rushing about to clean it up, but Elora had stopped glaring at Finn, and he no longer had to defend himself. Rhys had come to his rescue, and I couldn’t be more relieved.

After the mess was cleaned up, Willa, who had never been that fond of Rhys, suddenly began chatting incessantly with him, and he eagerly reciprocated. It was clear they were talking just so that Elora and Finn couldn’t.

Elora still managed to squeeze in a few biting comments towards me, such as

“really, Princess, you must know how to use a fork.” But as soon as she had finished her sentence, Willa would pipe up with a funny story about this girl she knew or this movie she saw or this place she went. It was endless, and in general, we were all grateful.

When dinner had finished, Elora claimed she had a migraine brewing and a million things to do for tomorrow. She apologized that dessert would not be served tonight, but she didn’t leave her seat at the head of the table when everybody started to excuse themselves. Garrett suggested that they should be heading out, and she nodded noncommittally.

“I will see you tomorrow evening,” Elora replied hollowly. She was staring off into space instead of looking at him, and he tried not to look troubled by this.

“Take care of yourself,” Garrett offered.

Finn, Rhys, and I rose to see Garrett, Willa, and Rhiannon to the door, but Elora’s voice stopped me cold. I think it stopped everyone else, too, but they did a better job of playing it off.

“Finn?” Elora said flatly, still staring off at nothing. “Would you escort me to my drawing room? I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Finn replied, giving her a small bow.

I froze and looked to him, but he refused to look at me. He just stood stoically, hands crossed behind his back, and waited for Elora to ask for further assistance. I might’ve stood there until Elora commanded me to go, but Willa looped her arm through mine and started to drag me away. I wanted to hate her for it, but I knew she was just saving me from another of Elora’s tirades.

“So, I’ll come over about ten tomorrow morning,” Willa said, purposely keeping her tone light and cheery. Rhys and Rhiannon were just ahead of us, whispering quietly amongst themselves. Garrett stole one last glance at Elora and walked on to the front door.

“What for?” I asked, feeling somewhat dazed.

“To help you get ready. There is so much to do!” Willa emphasized, then shot a look in the direction of the dining room. “And your mother doesn’t seem to be the helpful type.”

“Willa, don’t talk bad about the Queen,” Garrett remarked without conviction.

“Well, anyway, I’ll be over to help you with everything. You’ll be fabulous.” She gave me a reassuring smile and squeezed my arm.

“Thanks.” I wanted to smile at her, but I couldn’t make it work.

I was genuinely relieved to have her helping me, but there was a sick feeling growing inside of me. Whatever Elora was saying to Finn, it couldn’t be good. Garrett flashed me an unconvincing smile himself, then they disappeared out the door, leaving Rhys and I standing in the entryway.

“You okay?” Rhys asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.

I felt oddly shaky and ill, and I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to be a Princess anymore. There weren’t many more dinners like this I could handle. I took a step away, preparing to tell Elora just that, but I felt Rhys’s hand warm on my arm, stopping me.

“If you go in there, you’ll just make it worse,” Rhys insisted gently.

“Come on.”

He put his hand on the small of my back and started ushering me up the stairs. I couldn’t help but peer over the railing, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. I’m not sure what that would help, but I thought if I could just see what was happening, I could somehow make it okay.

“That was a rough dinner,” Rhys said with a joyless laugh.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault,” Rhys assured me with his lopsided grin. “You just made this house a whole lot more interesting.”

We reached the top of the stairs, and I expected him to try and push me down to my room, but he didn’t. He knew that I had to wait for Finn and find out what happened. Rhys leaned his shoulder against the wall, facing me.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back against the wall next to him.

Elora had purposely made that spectacle public. Otherwise she would’ve said it privately, inside Finn’s head. For some reason, she had wanted me to witness that. I didn’t understand why or what she had in store for Finn. I wasn’t even sure what exactly he had done wrong, except disagree with her. But he had been respectful and hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.

“What do you think she’s saying?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Rhys said thoughtfully. “She’s never really yelled at me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I stared at him skeptically. Rhys behaved like a kid that had gotten in trouble a lot in his life, and Elora was about as strict as they came.

“No, seriously,” Rhys laughed at my shock. “She’s snapped at me to knock stuff off when she’s around me, but do you know how often she’s even around? I was raised by nannies. Elora made it perfectly clear from day one that she wasn’t mother, and she never wanted to be.”

“Did she ever want to be a mother at all?” What little I knew of her seemed to be lacking even the slightest bit of maternal instinct.

“Honestly?” Rhys debated whether or not to tell me, before sadly replying, “No. I don’t think she did. But she had a lineage to carry on. A duty.”

“I’m just part of her job,” I muttered bitterly. “For once, I just wish that somebody actually wanted me around.”

“Oh, come on, Wendy,” Rhys admonished me softly and leaned in closer to me. “Lots of people want you around.” His head rested on the wall right next to mine, and I could feel his blue eyes searching for something. I swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. “You can’t take it personally that Elora’s a bitch.”

“It’s a little hard not to.” I fidgeted with my dress, and Rhys away. He was staring at the wall across from us instead of me, and I felt an odd combination of relief and disappointment. “She’s my mother.”

“Elora is a strong, complicated woman that you and I can’t even begin to understand,” Rhys explained tiredly. “She is a Queen above all else, and that makes her cold and distant and cruel.”

“What was it like growing up with that?” I glanced over at him.