Page 50 of The Silent Princess

I stare at her hands, taking in the intimacy of this moment. The closeness between us, despite how little time we have known each other. The undoubtable fact that both of us, surely together in another lifetime, are here, meeting again, recognizing each other.

“It’s…okay,” I read on her lips. Her brown eyes hold me there, pulling me into their depth, where kindness and truth rule. Words get stuck in my throat. I am standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. One more step and I will fall. But it’ll be deep, and dangerous, and so I hold myself back. I cannot fall, Ella. Because if I do, there will be no going back, no recovery, no end in sight. Everything I have known, everything I have built, will tilt off its axis.

And you, my angel, will become the center of it all.

Chapter Thirteen

Ella

“Thank you for the drive,” I sign, the obvious embarrassment making me squirm on the backseat of his fancy black car. The wings behind my back are still very much fluttering, still absorbing the care he put into our, well, to be honest, date. I never knew these people, nor read about them, but they would not be the first to try to break the rules when customs and tradition were the backbone of society. I suppose, in a way, nothing has really changed. We just wear different masks, and use other ways to recognize each other. And somehow, Tristan and I seem to cross every line in the sand, destroying the limits of our status.

His hand finds my wrist, his index finger right above my pulse. One. Two. Three. Is he… God, is he counting my heartbeat? Dismissing my remark, he speaks.

“It will be okay, Ella.” He looks toward Mara’s house at the end of the street, his discretion in parking a few cars away truly appreciated. Even if I am guessing that a grown, powerful man like him smirks at the thought of having to hide. Is my distress so obvious? “It’s not… it’s not about going back. It’s…” I blush, wishing I could disappear beneath the ground. It is you. You and your way of commanding any room. You and your voice, startling me and rolling beneath my skin. You and your kisses, which are becoming a seriously dangerous addiction. You leaving me alone here, when your presence feels like…like home.

“I know, I…” I pause, shaking my head. Speak your mind, Ella. Be brave.

“Ask away, Ella. I don’t bite,” he murmurs, his body angled toward mine.

“Tonight, before I fall asleep…” I sign, stopping myself, because why am I even signing this? No. This is not reasonable. A childish request to a man who has, I am sure, better things to do. As if he is enjoying a private show inside the wheels of my mind, an uneven smile tugs at his lips.

“Midnight, angel. I’ll knock at your window.” Biting my lip, I relish in his omniscient mind. Soulmates. I have read about them, but could they truly exist? And why do we seem to understand each other so well? Unclipping my belt, my hand catches his wrist, holding on to it like an anchor, wishing, God, wishing I never had to go back. Only Dad is there, and I cannot leave. He needs me. And I… There is no way out of this impossible situation. The air thickens with heat and unsaid words, tension pulsing beneath our skin, building and building until I can feel it swimming in my belly, crowding my ability to think straight. Carefully removing my hand from his wrist, he signs, “Tell me you don’t want to go in there because you would rather… You would rather stay with me.” A tang of betrayal fills my mouth at the thought of wishing for this while knowing that my father is there, dying slowly, needing me to remember what joy feels like. “All in good time,” he signs again. “All in good time.” Only a wall stands between us now, as if he is trying to reassure me even though he doesn't believe his own words either. Does he wish he could stay with me too? Does he wish for me to leave? Without another sign, I open the door and put my feet down on the concrete, shutting the door without looking back.

Heat builds on my nape as I tug at my dress, still wishing it were longer, even though a part of me relishes the fact that he might…he might be looking at my legs at this very moment. The walk to my house has never felt longer, walking straight into the lion’s den. Turning the key, I glance back at his black car, parked at the end of the street, waiting for me to enter safely before driving away. A poem comes to me, and I write it in my head, picturing myself above a cliff, the storm raging underneath.

i kissed him today

could he tell

how petrified i was?

to love him is to fall

into the unknown

and you see,

the heights

are unforgiving

Tristan

My mother’s flashy red nail lifts my chin ever so slightly, assessing my face.

“And just when I thought you were done with fighting.”

I push her off gently. “Just a slight misunderstanding.”

“As you always say,” she sighs, turning back to the sink as I lean against the marble counter of the outdoor kitchenette on her covered terrace. “Amy, Paula’s staff coordinator, said she saw you in a… What was it called? Free-fight thing? Don’t bother lying, love, I’m glad you’ve found…an outlet.”

“Would you like to come see me fight next time?” I challenge her, knowing all too well she will find the worst excuses in the world to stay away from paper cups and sweat-permeated air. If it is not champagne, candlelight, and small talk beneath a chandelier, my mother cannot even fathom the idea of stepping one foot inside.

“Oh, God, no. I mean, first, no, because you are very much still a baby in my head and watching you get hurt would be unbearable.”

Palms in the air, she repeats unbearable three times.

“And there are people, crowds. You know how I hate people yelling.” She covers her ears. “Bright lights and yelling.” She shudders. “There isn’t enough chamomile and calming crystals in my collection to make it better.” Nate and I exchange a glance, both of us fighting for our lives not to burst into laughter. He smirks, and I am almost done. Fuck you, he mouths in silence, and I give him the middle finger while our mother focuses on Maddie. Grown-ups, but still very much brothers.