Songbird's Cage

Chapter 2

Rory raced after her, shouting her titled. Her accursed title.

"Princess Lark! Wait!"

She kept running, gasping for breath against her corset - she was barely able to fill her lungs. Rory called out again, and she stumbled on the hem of her gown, falling hard to the polished stone of the floor. Lark all but screamed in frustrating - even the dresses the court required were trapping her. Breathing hard, she closed her eyes as Rory knelt at her side.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands on her shoulders. She nodded. He sighed.

"Physically?"

She shook her head. He ran his fingers through his light hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

"Prince Aspen," he began, his lips pursing as he chose his words. "Is not always an easy man to get along with. But he has a good heart. He is madly in love with Lady Nava. It's wrong of him to act like this in front of you, but this is hard for him as well."

She buried her head in her hands.

"I shouldn't have ran," she said. "But I couldn't take their pity anymore. I couldn't watch him with her. I know I shouldn't care, but-"

Rory laughed under his breath.

"You have every right to care," he answered. "No one should be forced to live as a chess piece for power. You're right to want him to care for you. What life would it be if he didn't?"

Lark could hear people coming down the hallway - more guards by the sounds of their armor and weapons. Rory took her hand, helping her up. She leaned against the wall for support.

"Princess Lark," a soldier said as they grew close. "Are you alright?"

"It was just nerves," Rory answered for her. "She'll be fine soon."

"I need some air," Lark murmured. He took her shoulder, leading her away.

"Rory," called the soldier. "Remember how you act around the future queen. This position is your last chance. You are a guard, not a lady in waiting."

"Yes, Mother," Rory muttered under his breath, keeping pace beside her. She looked up at him in question, but he didn't explain, and she didn't pry. He guided her to a set of doors, holding them open for her as she passed through, cool air washing over her. The last days of summer were beginning to die. The gardens outside were dark, and she had a sudden impulse to kick off her shoes. Rory raised a brow as she lifted her skirts, stepping out of the dainty, heeled slippers, and his lips turned upwards into the cocky half smile he'd been wearing when she'd first seen him. Lark blushed, stepping into the soft, dewy grass. The cold breeze brought relief to her hot skin, and she was able to relax despite her restraining clothing and the feast that awaited her inside. Fireflies blinked hypnotic patterns in the inky sky, talking to the stars. It was calm. The trees that surrounded the garden reached for the moon, their leaves rustling in the wind, creating a dull roar.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Rory nodded.

"It is."

They stood in silence, and Lark closed her eyes, letting the evening wash over her. The drunken shouts of elated guests broke into her peace, and she exhaled.

"I'm ready to go back now," she said. "Thank you."

She bent, picking up her shoes. The stone of the pathway was cold beneath her feet as she made her way back inside. A few women who were walking past gave her a disapproving look as she drew back her skirt, putting her slippers back on.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Rory asked again. She raised a brow, taking a slow breath in.

"My corset is tight enough to break my ribs," she said. "And tonight I have to sleep with a man I've known for three hours. But I'm going to lie and tell you that I'm quite alright."