Iridescent

Chapter 20

Stasia

I won't go.

"I can't go," I said to myself, beating my heels into the path that led to the barn. "I won't do this." I needed to be away—to be something other than the girl who was expected to point and wave some dainty little handkerchief and dry speckled tears—play the part of the doting damsel until he would return to carry me to our happy ending.

I didn't have to sit up all night to know that it was the right answer, but my nerves reminded me that Nikolai believed my acquiescence was the key to perfection—it was the expected move, the given.

I walked faster.

A rattle startled my chest and my hands started to shake so I clutched onto the hems of my dress as I kept walking. I couldn't tell if I wanted comfort or to sit alone—to choose a corner and find steadiness in solitude. I tried to sit and read—to distract myself.

My whole body went into overdrive when I was spilling everything to Griffin last night, and he had a hard time believing that my friendship with Nikolai would survive.

He puffed on his cigar once more, looking unpleased with the taste of it, "Obviously, there's something keeping him here."

I threw my hands in the air, "Is it hard to believe that we could just be friends?"

"In this world of matchmaking and legacies—yes," Griffin argued. I pressed my hands into my face, frustrated and he sarcastically droned, "Careful cousin, worrying and frustration brings wrinkles. And wrinkles scare pretty princes away."

I glared at him, "Griffin, I swear."

"Oh, don't swear," he grinned, the cigar dangling out of his mouth, not missing a beat, "Ladies don't ever swear—that certainly doesn't help the wrinkle problem either." The teasing smile on his face dropped a little as he grew serious, sitting up, "All jokes aside, his patience has to tell you that he won't take no for an answer."

Sighing, I slumped onto the couch next to him with, "I know."

"Are you going to say yes?" He dropped the bigger question.

For a moment, my mind blurred with something that felt like nothing. I had no words—no perfect phrase, no perfect wit. It wasn't the time or place for perfect things or perfect wits, I suppose. Maybe it wasn't the time or place to pick between fight or flight anymore. Griffin was right—Nikolai wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"I suppose I might," I whispered.

Griffin's shoulders slumped a little at my response, and his gaze casted down, tapping the cigar between his fingertips as he leaned his elbows onto his knees in thought, "But, do you want to? Say yes?"

We both knew the answer to that question, but it wouldn't matter if I said it.

"I don't have much of a choice, Griffin," My voice cracked, feeling a bulk of water swimming in my eyes.

He took my hand, "Don't say that."

"You know it's true," I stated. Wanting and knowing were words that were far out of reach from each other—I knew that. I tried to be ignorant to it, but now, I just had to live in that space—acknowledge the reality of it all.

Know when I am beat.

For a moment, he let me have the silence—bask in the tragedy of my choosing. But he didn't let me hold onto it because he suggested, "You've made it this far believing otherwise—why stop now?"