Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(34)
There’s still hope, I reason in my mind. Krev did say he’d come back for me. He seemed serious about getting me back to America. If only Edward hadn’t stopped me . . .
I curl my fingers in my skirts, feeling frustrated. If it weren’t for my royal husband, I wouldn’t be stuck in this strange world with all these problems, none of which I seem to have any chance of solving.
15
Edward is pacing in our suite when I enter. Once I step into the room, the tenseness in his face immediately melts into relief. He gestures to Amelie with a flick of his fingers, which seems to say get out, but it’s not enough. When Amelie shuts the door behind her, Edward locks it.
“Kat.” Anger seems to simmer within him. There’s no trace of his affectionate manner nor his flirtatious tone. “Where have you been?”
Irritation, prickly and uncomfortable, threatens to rear its head. Another time I might have been cooperative, but I’m still annoyed that I failed to return home from the chapel, and since he is the main source of my frustration, I cross my arms and glare at him.
“Stop interrogating me like I’m a convicted murderer, Your Highness. I thought I was your wife, not a servant in your employment.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I was when I came back from a grueling meeting and found you gone?”
The harshness of his tone both surprises and vexes me even more—he makes it sound like I’m five years old. I was in a carriage with a coachman, and the chapel was only about ten minutes’ drive from the palace. I wonder what he’ll say if I tell him that back in America, I passed through shady neighborhoods and encountered mentally unstable people on the subway or in the grocery store.
“I . . . I left a note on the desk.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Maybe it got blown to the floor.” I usually have the windows open since the temperature has been going up. It’s early summer, and it’s getting more and more uncomfortable wearing a chemise, a corset, and a dress every day.
He takes a step toward me and I automatically back away, which seems to annoy him further.
“I asked you a question, Kat. Where have you been?”
“Oh, so am I in a military camp now? Do I have to report to you every time I go out?”
Edward levels an intense stare at me. “If you keep being this stubborn, then I forbid you to leave the palace. In the case of an event requiring your presence, Bertram or I will accompany you. Or both of us.”
“What?” I’m completely flabbergasted. Grounding me as though I’m a kid? “You can’t be serious!”
“It is not a decision I would like to make, but without mutual trust, I cannot have you disappearing without notice. You are my wife, Kat, and I intend to keep you here with me. Whatever it takes.”
His eyes are feverish and flashing, his tone agitated. There’s a wildness in his manner. It appears as though he’d go crazy if he doesn’t know where I am. For a brief moment, I wonder if the madness in his grandfather’s genes was passed down to him—maybe just a little, but it’s enough to make me flinch.
Nevertheless, my anger is also stirred up. What kind of man is he to keep me confined within the palace like the animals in the menagerie? I thought his attitude toward me was liberal (for the standards of an Athelian male), but it looks like I was wrong. If Jason dared to make me stay indoors and not go out unless accompanied, I’d dump him in an instant.
“If you treat me like a prisoner, I guarantee once Krev appears, I won’t hesitate to leave with him.”
I might as well have struck him with the heavy vase on the mantelpiece. Shock, swiftly followed by fury, radiates from him. He takes another step toward me, and I realize he’s backed me into a corner. What is he going to do to me?
Tension—thick, stifling, scary tension—stretches between us. I stare at him defiantly, but my palms have grown sweaty. An image of Dad yelling at Mom a few days before they filed their divorce flashes in my mind. My fear must have shown in my face, for Edward suddenly turns away. His shoulders slump and his clenched fists have relaxed.
“It’s getting late,” he finally says. “Get dressed for dinner.”
And he vanishes into the study, leaving me staring at the door of my bedroom. It’s the first time we’ve quarreled. Maybe I should apologize for refusing to be honest with him. But then I’d have to tell him the reason I went to the cathedral, and I don’t want to imagine his reaction.
There is a reason why the Grimms’ fairy tales rarely tell us what happens after the prince and princess get married. Life after marriage is never fairytale-ish.
* * *
The king and queen sense that something is wrong. Of course. No matter how much we pretend, the quarrel has soured our minds and made us unnecessarily stiff and formal during mealtimes. Even Edward, who is generally good at faking it, cannot escape his parents’ scrutiny this time. At night, when he still instructs me in Athelian culture and customs, his tone is indifferent, his look devoid of affection, and never once does he flirt.
I admit that I miss the way he looks at me like I’m the only girl on the planet, which only makes me frustrated with myself. When Edward was the perfect husband and lover, I felt burdened by his attention. Now that he’s cool and detached, I feel deprived. All I can do is keep up a smiling facade, but I hate to say that I prefer Edward doting on me rather than not.