Royal Affliction (The Anti-Princess Saga) (2 page)

I took the same route that I always did: through the park and along the river, and stopped at a park bench in front of the Folsom dam for a breather.  The sounds of running water mixed with the morning chirping of the birds were just mesmerizing.  The sun had just broken through the trees, showering me with little bits of light and warming my body.  I took it all in and dazed off in a peaceful bliss for a while before a familiar memory snuck into my conscious mind.

********************

I was swimming in the ocean with my best friend Violet when Quino, a member of my father’s royal guard, had called out to me of a meeting with my father.  It was not an uncommon occurrence so I headed towards the shore without a second thought.

My father’s study was just as it ever was, full of parchments and books with spells and the history of my world.  One thing that struck me as odd though, was the fact that guard members were never invited to this room, yet Kafkus stood next to the window overlooking the ocean.  His turquoise hair framed his face in an arrogant sort of way and his eyes were on me though I’d only glanced at him.

“You asked for me father?”  I gave a small curtsy to Kafkus and he gave me an overdone bow in return.  My father gripped both my hands tight in his own that were much larger than mine.  His eyes were happy, the edges of his lips turned a tad upwards.  I stared at him, not sure what to think as he had given me nothing to expect. “Father?”

He glanced at Kafkus who had stealthily moved closer to me before speaking.  “Tomorrow shall be a glorious day.”

“If you are talking about my birthday celebration, then yes, it should be…pleasant.”

He looked a bit conflicted, as if he’d forgotten.  “Yes, your celebration, among other things.”  My father took my hand, placing into the palm of the man next to me.

“No,” I whispered, still unable to believe what was happening.  Did my father not know me at all?  I ripped my hand from Kafkus’, not even bothering to look at him.

My father’s face turned ridged, his voice quite stern.  “You forget your place, daughter.”

“Daily.  You cannot and you will not choose my husband, father.  I would sooner sever my own hand from my wrist than let you give it to this man.”  I didn’t look at Kafkus though I could feel his hurt eyes.

“If I may, my King, ask for a moment alone with your daughter.”

“It seems I, her father and her King, cannot force her to do anything.”  He shoved an intrusive finger in my face.  “Ask her!”

Kafkus’ face turned to me though I still did not return the gesture.  “Princess, may I please speak with you in private so that I may express my intensions in a way th—”

“There will be no need,” I interrupted before addressing my father.  “Did you expect me to let you decide my future without a fight?”

“Your future was decided before you were born!  I expect you to act like the princess you are and fulfill your rightful duties!”

“And what if I no longer wish to be your princess?”  My words were blasphemy.   I knew that, but I didn’t care.  All my life I’d been told what to do.  Rather than embrace it, I rebelled whenever I could.  My father’s face was unreadable, as it typically was, but I knew my words had cut deep.  This had not been our first disagreement about my royal duties.

“I shall take my leave,” Kafkus said, breaking the silence but not the tension.  Neither I nor my father made any attempt to stop him, nor a sound to each other until the oak door clicked shut.

“A life among the humans is sounding better than the last time I brought it up.”  I was just fueling the fire now.

“If it is your desire, so be it!  Let a Boru teach you the respect whereas I have failed.”

“If you would make me a portal, I will be gone as soon as possible.”

“You do not wish to stay for your celebration?”  He was baiting me, hoping that if I stayed for that I may reconsider leaving in that time.

“No, I would like to gather a few of my belongings and see Violet as she has mastered concealment spells, and I will be off of your land and away from your rule.”  This was no bluff.

“I shall meet you at the shore.”  His voice might have sounded as resolute as mine to someone who did not know him as well as I did.  I knew he was hoping that I would change my mind before we made it there.

********************

This memory plagued me like no other.  If nothing else it was a good reminder of why I’d left my home, but it often overshadowed the happy times of my life growing up in Kortis.  I’d thought of going back to at least visit from time to time, but this memory made the concept vanish before it could solidify.

A lone jogger’s breeze caught my face as he blew past, bringing me back to the current state of things.  I’d been gone for a couple of hours now, it seemed time had run away from me as it often did when I thought of the past.  I pushed myself off the bench with some effort and started building momentum for the trip home.

When I got within viewing distance of my apartment, Clifton was standing in front of the sliding glass door, eyes focused on what could only be me.  I averted my eyes, pretending that I hadn’t noticed him.  Even though I wasn’t looking, I could still feel his stare.  It penetrated me in a way that no stare should.

I walked up the stairs two at a time, trying to appear as if I had important things to do.  Work wasn’t for hours and it’s not like I had plans before that but that wasn’t the point.  As I had learned in my time here, appearance was everything, sometimes far more than it should be.

Just as I’d slid my key into the door I felt those intense eyes on my back and spun around to face Clifton.

“What’s the matter?” he asked with that handsome grin of his.  His eyes lit up when he smiled, making him harder to rebuff.

“Nothing,”—I only half-lied—“just got to get a lot done before work.”

“Oh, I won’t keep you long then.  I was just wondering if you had a big punch bowl that I could borrow for the party tonight.  I forgot that I chucked mine last time I cleaned house.”  Sad puppy-dog eyes followed as he added a, “pleeeease?”

“Oh, alright,” I grunted, mad that I’d let him guilt-trip me.  “I’ll see what I got.”  I opened the door, walked through it, and shut it right in his face.

“I guess I’ll just wait out here then,” he shouted through the door and I just smirked.

The punchbowl was in the last cabinet I checked, and, of course, all the way in the back.  I had to take just about everything out before I was able to get to it.  I didn’t even know why I had the damn thing.  I never threw parties.

Clifton was leaning against the frame when I opened the door.  “Here you go,” I said while shoving the bowel into his hands with unnecessary force.  “It’s a bit dusty.  You’ll need to wash it first.”

“Thanks.”

“Why do you need it anyway?  I think your guests will be expecting more than just punch.”

“I’m making sangria.”

“Oh, that sounds…good.”

“Will you be there?” he asked again and I knew it was coming.  I still had no better answer than, “I have to work.”  My voice was not as resolute as I meant it to sound.  The part of me that wanted to give in to him was surfacing.  I shoved it back fast.

His face fell, showing the honest emotion of someone reaching out and being struck down.  “I know, but you’re
always
busy.  When will I ever have the time to get to know you when you won’t even give me a chance?”  He stared at the ground for a moment before raising his eyes back to mine.  I could see every ounce in him pleading for me to open up to him but I just couldn’t.  I settled my eyes on the window of my neighbor’s unit instead.  He was human.  I was not.  Small talk was all I would ever have with this man, no matter how much he tried for more or how much I wished that were not true.

My attention averted, I failed to notice his hand moving towards my face.  His fingers brushed against my cheek and that little touch did so much.  It sent shivers of pleasure down my body, hardening my nipples yet making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  I just stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do or what to think.  It’s an odd sensation to be frightened and turned on at the same time.

I mumbled something under my breath that wasn’t quite coherent but managed to get “I need to take a shower” out before slamming the door in his face again.  I slid down the door until my butt hit the floor.  My heart was pounding so hard it was all I could hear. 
What the hell was that about?

After a few minutes of contemplation I managed to get a grip on myself and started my daily chores.  I washed the dishes, did a load of laundry (which overflowed with bubbles as I’d put too much soap in the machine…
again
) and even watched a little television before heading to the bathroom for my long overdue shower.

A shower never felt as good as it did when you were icky.  The warmth of the water caressed my skin, cleansing me of the remnants of my nightmare and my odd encounter with Clifton.  To me, a good shower was just as refreshing as a goodnight’s sleep.  Though, the fact that my water heater sucked, I never got as long of a shower as I would have liked.

I wasn’t poor, but I lived like I was.  My home was a small, modest, one-bedroom apartment and my job was as a simple waitress at the diner up the street.  Though my life seemed average my bank account told a different story.  My mother had stuffed my bag with as much gold as she could fit when my attention had been averted while saying my goodbyes.  It was money I had, but money I hated using.  I wanted to earn my own money.  I no longer wanted to be taken care of and I tried not to use it whenever possible.  Sometimes I had no other choice, like when my pitiful income wasn’t enough to make ends meet (not too rare of an occurrence).

I was a waitress at Logan’s, a diner up the street, and I liked my job, despite the long hours, all of which were on my feet.  It wasn’t my dream job, but it at least gave me something to do until I figured out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.  I had options now.  Home, I would have just been a princess for the rest of my life whereas my brother, Gader, would someday replace my father as King.  The only way that I’d ever be a queen was if I married a prince of another species, and that would never happen.  All of the inhabitants of Kortis prized themselves on purity of blood.  There were very few cross-species births in existence that I was aware of, and none of them were living.

My car was parked in my designated parking spot: right in front of Clifton’s apartment.  I didn’t check to see if he was watching me as I walked to my car, but the unmistakable chill running down my spine told me he was.  I ignored him as I got into my Prius, a gift I’d gotten for myself a couple of months beforehand.

The first car I’d bought had been a real piece of junk: an old, pink Bug.  I hadn’t known much about cars when I’d first arrived as the concept of a vehicle was foreign to me.  I’d thought it was cute when I first saw it but it soon turned out to be more hassle than it was worth.  It broke down on me every other day and I got stuck stranded on the side of the freeway many times before it died completely.  I gave it a frustrated kick on the last day of its life and the front bumper fell off.  I couldn’t help but laugh out of frustration.  So I tapped into some of the money—that I didn’t like to use—to buy my brand new Prius.  I was much happier having a dependable car, even though every time I used it I remembered how I hadn’t earned it.  Not something a normal princess would dwell on.

My car was unlocked, something that wasn’t necessarily a problem as I’d been known to be absentminded when it came to locking things.  The envelope taped to my steering wheel, however, was a bit unnerving.  “Tessa Turner” was written on it.  The last name “Turner” I’d adopted when I’d moved here as an attempt to seem more human.  (No one in Kortis had a last name, or a middle name for that matter.  We didn’t have need for such things as everyone’s name was unique enough that we didn’t need to distinguish ourselves by a second one, or a third one.)  I knew deep in my gut that no good could come of opening this.

Knowing that I didn’t need any more stress at the moment, I tossed the envelope in my purse and headed for work.  The drive took mere minutes and before I could open the diner door, Carol, my coworker, opened it for me and gave me a big, welcoming hug.

Carol was much shorter than me and a hug from her was a bit awkward as her face came into my breasts.  It never seemed to bother her but I always tried to pull away as soon as possible.  Her eyes and hair were that of dark brown, both from her Mexican heritage.  She was older than me, about thirty-five, with a soft, trusting face and a genuine nice personality.  Everyone walked all over her because she didn’t stand up for herself, but I tried to get people to stop using her if I could.

Carol was the closest thing I had to a friend here, though sometimes she felt more like a mother.  She was the one who got me my job here and even went apartment hunting with me before my last move.  This woman taught me more than she ever knew though.  She’d taught me how to fit in with the human population, and for that alone, I could not express my gratitude.

“How are you doing, chica?” she asked, squeezing me tight.  She looked up into my face and her own fell.  “What’s wrong, Tessa?”

“Nothing, just nightmares waking me up at all hours of the night, as usual.”  I tried to contort my face into a happy-go-lucky smile, but I guess it didn’t work since her expression didn’t change.