She was weak.
She was obedient.
She always listened.
Ava Mays was the good girl and she had the weakness of not being able to say no. She would always listen to her mother, she would do literally anything her mother asked of her.
Literally, Legitima...
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Ava's POV As I walk out the palace, the sun hits my eyes, blinding me for a fraction of a second. Thomas walks next to me and I can’t help but notice his eyes almost seem to be drilling holes into the back of Antoinette’s head.
What is with these two?
“We are here everyone,” the queen says in her ever so twinkling tone.
I smile and drop Thomas’s hand. I run over to one of my favorite flowers, violets. They are so beautiful. I have such a fond childhood memory of them. Every time I had happened to be sad, my mother would pick a bunch for me, and we would just sit there and talk out my problems. While we talked, she would make the most beautiful braided little crowns for me.
I miss those times, I miss her sometimes so bad even if she’s still with me.
I snap the stems of one of the flowers and put the violet into my hair. It’s no braided crown, but at least it’s something. My mother’s eyes fall to my hair and something like regret and sadness passes through them.
But it’s gone in the blink of an eye and I have to wonder if I imagined it. Thomas walks over to me and, smiling at the flower in my hair, says, “That looks quite pretty on you, Ava.”
I just can’t help but blush and look at my feet and quietly murmur, “Thank you.”
What is he doing to me? I never used to get nervous around guys, nor did I ever blush. To be honest, when I really like someone I usually just ask them out. I'm not the type to get scared of rejection. But, then again, I guess I never really liked someone that much.
Wait, do I like Thomas? I free my mind of the thought and look up only to find Antoinette glaring daggers my way. Maybe she just doesn’t like me because she doesn’t know me.
Time to make friends.
I walk over to her and stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. I guess 'hi' is a good a place as any to start. But before I can get the words out, she sneers at me with anger evident in her eyes and says, “What do you want?”
Well, who shoved a stick up her ass?
“Nothing much, I just wanted to introduce myself,” I say in a calm tone.
She laughs and mutters, “Guess what? Your boyfriend already did that for you.”
I don’t know what came over me but I just say, “He’s my fiancée, not my boyfriend.”
