Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1) (34 page)

Good God!

The prince nodded, “I
know
it does.” And
that
hurt more than what we were talking about. “So, I apologize for what my mother said to you,” he said. “I won’t justify her actions because there is nothing that could justify that, but I do hope that one day you can forgive her and realize what a good woman my mother is.” I had to hold back an eye roll at hearing that.

“She
is
,” he insisted, as if he were able to read my mind and knew his words were unbelievable to me. “She’s a queen, she’s responsible for lots of things in this kingdom, and it’s a lot. Her biggest dream was–
is
–for me to be the next king after my father. Our marriage almost ruined everything for her, threatened this dream and the possibility of it ever happening. She’s already had everything planned for me, even my bride. She just wants someone to blame, and her blame–unfortunately–is misplaced; it should be directed at Yoseph, not at you.” He sighed. “This still
doesn’t
justify her actions, but I hope it helps you understand her reasoning a bit, Princess. She’s just upset and overprotective, and she’s not the only one who feels betrayed.”

The way the prince was talking, I really couldn’t understand how he did it, or how he was able to comprehend all of those things. His words about his mother–how did he understand her so well like that? How was he able to convince me to understand all of that? It was really strange. And above all, I wondered how he was able to understand
me
that much.

He knew I felt betrayed.

And again, I found out that I had more in common with the queen than I’d ever imagined.

The biggest question that was roaming inside of my head was, was this why he was treating me this way? So nice, so kind and so…
caring
? Was I really just like everything he’d just said about his mother? Because it felt like it. It felt like his words were all about me, along with his mother.

Was it only because I felt betrayed that I was treating
him
this way? Hurting him over and over again? Was my cruelty towards him misplaced, just like the queen’s blame? Was I really mistaken when I blamed him for everything that was happening to me, while there were other people I should be blaming, especially since I knew he wasn’t really the one to blame?

There was a ‘yes’ brightening in my mind behind each and every one of those questions. And it wasn’t easy to take in. It was saddening and embarrassing at the same time.

I pressed my lips together into a tight line, then I nodded. Because I understood. Most of the things, at least. To a point.

I only hoped that the prince would’ve told me as well, that if I found it really, really hard to ever forgive the queen for what she’d said to me or how she’d made me feel, whether that meant the prince would find it as hard to forgive me for all of the times I’d unintentionally and intentionally hurt him.

Or if he would’ve told me why I cared so much for how he felt, for me
or
because of me.

My head was spinning already.

The prince offered me one of his small smiles and asked, “Do you fancy eating now?”

“I’m famished,” I admitted.

His smile grew bigger and he nodded, “C’mon.”

“Oh, snap!” I gasped when I attempted to get up only to find my new necklace falling from my neck to my lap. I held it up, confused as to why it would fall down after I’d locked it, and grateful that it hadn’t happened somewhere else where I couldn’t find it later. I held it up and examined the clasp, finding that it was different from the other clasps I was used to.

“Let me?” the prince’s voice asked. His hand reached out in an offer to take the necklace from my hand, and I handed it to him.

He sat closer to me than he was a minute before. I moved my hair to the side and waited for him to put it on for me like he’d done so many times on the night of the wedding.

“There are two clasps on this necklace, the bigger one covers and secures the smaller,” he told me as he worked the locks. His breath fanned over the side of my neck, making my skin tingle and my heart beat faster, reminding me of last night and all the times I felt his very warm breath on my neck and face. One specific memory made me shiver and close my eyes as I relived the moment that I hated and loved all the same.

When I opened my eyes again, I found the prince’s once more staring deeply into mine.

I had to hold my breath at the look in his eyes. He was so close, his face only an inch away from mine, our lips almost touching–he was
that
close. And I knew, I just knew, that look. Oh, God! That look! I knew what he wanted. I knew what
I
wanted. And I knew it was the same thing. But…

“Are we pretending?” I had to ask because I had to know. He never replied to my request last night about pretending that we never shared that thing, and I wanted to make sure of what he wanted to do, or if he was going to do it. I felt like a small child, wanting to play but knowing I wasn’t allowed to do so. But the difference was that the one not allowing me to play wasn’t a parent, it was my own head. My head was denying my heart what it wanted to feel. To touch. To do.

“I’m not,” was his quick, whispered reply, which made me question his sanity, or the limits of his forgiveness. Because it was too much for me to believe that he’d forgotten all of the hurtful words I’d said to him yesterday, and was still able to look me in the eye with so much passion in those beautiful green eyes of his.

I couldn’t believe it. Too much. It was
too
much.

Games.

Lies.

Traps.

“Don’t kiss me,” I whispered back, and against everything in me that wanted the opposite.

“I wasn’t going to.”

And I was surprisingly disappointed and upset. To a point.

The hours that followed were peaceful. We ate and had very light conversations. Mona came and went a few times. One of those times was to take back the World Cup-thing that gave off the wonderful-smelling smoke, and I had to ask her about that tradition, and why she’d only done it starting from yesterday and not since the day of the wedding. She answered that the scent of the rosebuds that were decorating the bed on the wedding night was still filling the room and the musk would’ve killed it, so she didn’t do it the first two days. Her answer made me notice how there were lots of things that I wasn’t aware of, or hadn’t paid attention to–like the fact that I hadn’t even noticed the disappearance of the rosebuds that had covered the floor the past three days and were gone in the middle of the day yesterday. Or the disappearance of the shattered glass in the bathroom right the next day. It also made me notice how everything around me was super-organized and everything was very neat, even those silly traditions. Well, some of them. A
few
of them.

Crazily, I liked the way I was bonding with Mona more each day.

The prince then asked me if I wanted to take that tour of our wing, and I eagerly agreed. My mind forgot everything bad with every new room I saw. Everything was decorated perfectly. And there was nothing I couldn’t love. The rooms were pretty, each one of them. The three guest rooms, the three sitting rooms, the two dining rooms and the two living rooms. The kids’ rooms were what made my heart flutter inside of my chest; they were too cute and just adorable. Two rooms with two beds, each.

Imagining that those could’ve been rooms for my kids made it hard for me not to tear up. I’d always loved kids and I’d wanted them forever. And even if those rooms weren’t meant for
my
kids, I still couldn’t help my motherly hormones or whatever inside of me that made my heart ache with longing and hope.

I had a scarf over my shoulders when the prince snuck us out once again, but this time it wasn’t down and under the palace–nope, it was on top of it. We got there with hidden ladders behind the secret doors, and the sight from up there was magical.

The sky was beautiful shades of orange and red, and the sun looked amazingly stunning with its perfect round shape and the outstanding golden color. The prince made a little comment about it that made me blush, saying that it was the same
beautiful
color as my locks.

We watched as the sun disappeared more moment by moment, saying a silent
goodbye
as it hid behind the clouds, making space for the moon and changing the day right before our eyes into night, something that, like star-gazing and mountain climbing, I hadn’t paid that much attention to before in my life. I had no idea how I was so blind to such beautiful things around me.

“You really like nature, huh?” I asked the prince as I studied him while
he
studied the sky. It was really inspiring, to learn that this powerful man had such a tender soul that loved to watch the sun as it set and as it rose, loved to gaze at the stars, loved the sky when it was blue and when it was black. Someone who had the whole world in his hands, yet liked simple things that many people didn’t even care the slightest for.

“I adore it,” he simply replied, and I had to smile, hugging the scarf to my chest in comfort.

“So, nature is your passion?” I asked, tilting my head to the side, wondering if he liked horses more or nature.

“Along with other things, yeah,” he said with his eyes still gazing away at the sky. I wondered about those other things and what they were, his next question snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What about you, Pretending Princess?” His tone was teasing and his narrowed eyes and lopsided smile were playful, both making me blush hard and look away.

It was so easy to read him this time, because he wasn’t trying to hide it. And I completely understood why with the tone and the look. My questions were those of someone who was curious to get to know the other. It was as if I was doing the very thing I’d told him earlier before I fell asleep that I would never do: be friends with him. And I wondered if my mood swings–as they must’ve appeared to him to be–were giving him whiplash yet.

But it really wasn’t that simple. I wasn’t just moody, with my mood shifting easily and so much, it was just hard inside of me,
and
hard to explain. The prince was someone interesting; he was very kind, caring, smart and handsome, simply any girl’s dream. But he was a Muslim. A part inside of me wanted to get to know him and maybe really be friends. Sometimes I even thought–with all of the chemistry and my attraction to him–that we could be even more. But every time I thought that, I could never help the feeling of being a cheater. As if I was betraying the two people I loved the most, even more than my own parents. And I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t go on. It was easy to pull away, but it was even easier to be pulled back to him. It was such a war.

Before I could tell him about my obsession with reading that I barely had the time to fulfill, a gasp left my mouth at the sound of loud voices.

The sound wasn’t annoying, not at all. It was just surprising. And loud. And I didn’t know what it was or where it was coming from. I looked around me in search of the source, but found none, so I asked the prince, “What is this?”