Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1) - Rose B. Mashal Page 0,83
want to admit I knew of–stung as I spoke them, but it had to be said.
“When we kis–”
“Don’t say it! Please.” Speaking of it, hearing of it, was almost as hard as remembering it. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”
“You want to pretend it never happened?” His voice was low and his tone was sad.
“Yes.” Pretending was the only thing I would ever be able to do, but between me and myself, I knew I would never forget it had happened.
“But as far as I remember–...before that, it wasn’t so hard for you to look me in the eyes, and you didn’t flinch away every time I touched your hand.”
I squeezed my already-closed eyes and laid my head back, resting it on the back of the couch. The war inside of me…I just…too much!
“We can be friends, you know?” he whispered.
“I can’t be friends with you,” I whispered back, my voice shaky and newborn tears stinging my eyes.
“Why not?” the same low voice and the same sad tone.
“I can’t be friends with a Muslim,” I stated. The words might have hurt me the same way I knew they were hurting him.
I could only imagine what he would think of me after that. I could only feel sad for myself, for my inability to open up to him or accept him as a friend, but it was so hard for me. I couldn’t just let go of...everything. Not after what had happened to me before because of...them.
No words were spoken after that, and I didn’t remember exactly what happened, but I knew that I cried, and I knew my heart was aching. Maybe I dozed off or something after a while, because the prince carried me bridal style once again, and I remembered him placing me on the bed then pulling the covers over me. He whispered a few words that–though they were in my language–I couldn’t understand, or find it in me to ask him what he meant by them. His voice wasn’t as sad as it was pained when he spoke while moving locks of hair out of my face and behind my ear.
“May you find the black keys, Troubled Princess.”
“Papa!” My voice was panicked and my breaths were shallow. Fear filled my insides and tears filled my eyes.
“Manon,” his voice was very low and his breaths were barely there. Worry filled his words and an undeniable sorrow filled his tone.
“Papa, I’m so scared, please come here already,” begs and pleas.
“I’m afraid I won’t make it this time, Sweetie-Pie,” gasps and sobs.
“No, no, Papa, you have to come here, you have to.”
“Papa loves you so much, Manon.”
Do you know that feeling you get when you wake up in a bed that’s not yours? You open your eyes and look around, wondering where you are, and what has brought you there. Panic and confusion fill your senses for a moment or two, until you remember everything?
Well, that wasn’t what happened to me this time, when I woke up in that bed that was supposed to be mine and the prince’s. I knew right away where I was, even before I opened my eyes. The strong scent of musk and ambergris refreshed my memory, and reminded me of everything I hadn’t ever forgotten.
Memories came rushing back to me, of my brother and his wedding that turned out to be mine as well, followed by the prince cutting his shoulder to protect my honor, or his, or maybe his sister’s, who knows…then getting sick and waking up, thinking that he’d hurt me somehow or while I was sleeping. Janna and her promise, and then the queen threatening my life. Salma and Thunder. Hope and Faith…
A small smile tugged on my lips at the thought of the good time I’d had with the horses, and I opened my eyes thinking it’d be to bright sunlight, only to be met by the bright green that was the prince’s eyes.
My gaze held his for a moment. He was sitting on the side of the bed, right beside me; his eyes were on me and his lips smiled softly. My first thought was to wonder how long he had been sitting there…watching me. My second thought was a memory of those smiling lips pressed into my own.
My smile died.
“Good morning, Sleepy Princess,” he said. “Good afternoon, I mean.” His smile remained and his voice was just above a whisper, as if not to disturb me.