Page 11 of Stolen Princess

Oh, you know, because I have a man locked in my bathroom and I think you may have been lying to me my entire life for reasons I can’t figure out. “Jittery?” I parrot. “I’m not jittery.”

“You are. Tell me why.”

I finish putting everything away and take out her lemonade that I made fresh this morning. I pour her a glass over ice and hand it to her. “My birthday is in five days.”

She scowls and rolls her eyes. “Not this again. It’s not your birthday.”

She says that every year, and yet every year she celebrates it with me. “I’m twenty-three, Mother. I’m a grown woman. You live in the world. Why can’t I?”

She sits up straighter and brushes her hair back from her face. I can see the anger building behind her eyes. “Because I have no choice. It’s not safe for you out there. You know this.”

“Mother, the people who took me as a child⁠—”

“Will do it again, given the chance. The moment you leave here, they’ll find you.”

I knot my fingers in front of me, nerves skirting up my spine as her voice rises. “But why would they? What value am I to them?”

“They took you for a reason. They stole you from me. Young women are bought and sold every day to murderers, rapists, and traffickers. A girl like you would fetch a very pretty price. I keep you here to save you. Because I love you. Don’t you understand that? I can’t lose you again. I can’t even fathom risking it. This is how it has to be.”

I swallow and push forward. “I know. But it’s the festival⁠—”

“The one I saved you from?” she yells incredulously, ire blossoming on her cheeks as her hands wave in the air before they slash in front of me. “No. Don’t ask.”

“But if I’m with you⁠—”

She stands and pounds her fist on the table, knocking over her lemonade and spilling it all over the floor. “Genevieve, you are not leaving this cottage. Ever!”

Tears burn my eyes as bitter hopelessness and crushing despair sink deeper into my bones. She’s planning to keep me here forever.

No other people. No experiences. No life.

Bile rises up the back of my throat, and I swallow and swallow, forcing air into my lungs when my fucking lungs no longer have the will to breathe. I’m so defeated, I can’t even argue with her. She just took my heart and ground it under the sole of her shoe.

She heaves an exhausted sigh, clearly noting what she did to me. “Wonderful. I’m not here even five minutes, and we’re already fighting over nonsense.”

Nonsense. She called the one thing keeping me going nonsense.

“I’m sorry,” I manage, keeping myself glued to the yellow stream puddling on the floor from the table. “I just…” I’m having trouble holding in my despair. What does it matter? Nothing matters. It never did. “Never mind. You’re right. It’s too dangerous for me to leave. It was a silly idea.” I force my gaze up at her. I can’t attempt a smile. My lips won’t comply.

“Genevieve,” she starts, calm and collected as if none of that had happened. “Not even three months ago, my best friend was poisoned. Before that, her son was murdered, and before the woman he loved, who was pregnant with his child, died. Years ago, the only man I ever loved betrayed me, as did my sister.”

I gasp, and she gives me a yes, that actually happened, and you’re proving my point, look.

“Then you were stolen from me. It took me years to find you. I have nothing left but you, and I will never let anyone take you from me again. This world is not the sort of place one wants to be a part of. It’s what people wish they could escape from.”

I nod. “I understand.” Though I don’t at all. Not one part of me understands, and that’s my struggle. Maybe all of that happened to her. Maybe the world is cruel and awful. But so is living here by myself. The endless solitude and loneliness are just as violent and deadly. It’s eaten away at my soul, and now all I feel is pervasive emptiness.

“Good. Now clean up this mess you caused. I’m going to rest for a bit before dinner.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She comes over and kisses my cheek. “I’ll buy you more paints for your birthday.”

I smile. “A new book would be lovely too.”

She makes a dismissive noise. “Another one of your unrealistic romances?”

“Please.”