The Lost Princess

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven
I stared at the women that is my mother for much longer than I should have. I couldn't help but to analyze her every feature. She is nothing like I expected her to be.

Her long, pale blonde hair is swept up into an elegant bun atop her head, surrounded by a large crown. This close, I can tell that we have the same shade of hair, hers being a little silkier. She stared at me intensely, those familiar eyes sending shivers down my spine.

Before I could so much as blink, she was ushering me into the room. I tried not to let her see how nervous I really am, but I know that I failed miserably.

"Thank you for bringing her, Saxon. You may go," the queen dismissed, her voice light and hard all at once. It clearly wasn't a request.

Saxon nodded at the both of us and bowed deep, showing his respect. Then he turned to leave. My heart stuttered in my chest. He promised to wait right outside. Now what am I going to do if this goes south? If she turns psycho killer on my butt? Not that he would choose my life over the queen's, but still. It's nice to know that someone familiar is nearby-

My panicked thoughts were cut short when he very subtly winked at me, right before he closed the door and was out of sight. I hope that means he isn't leaving, or at least isn't going far.

When he left, the room fell into an awkward silence. I was hoping she would break it, but she was too busy studying me. I shifted uncomfortably. I hate having the attention on me, and I hate silence even more.

"Ah, so, um," I trailed off. What can I say without it coming off rude or standoffish? "So you're my birth mother."

I cringed inwardly. So you're my birth mother? THAT'S what I come up with? Really? Way to go, Freya, now she is really going to think that you are nuts.

Instead, she surprised me by laughing slightly. "You're blunt. An admirable trait, but not one that will be taken well amongst royalty."

A compliment and a warning, all in one. Damn, she's good. I opened my mouth, then closed it. I decided to just shrug instead.

"Freya," she said, as if testing the name on her tongue. The way she says it almost makes the name seem angelic. Her voice is so soft. "Definitely not the name I would have chosen, but it's unique. It fits your personality well."

Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? I don't think it was supposed to be both.

"What would you have chosen," I questioned, curious.

"I would have chosen something with Rose, like Rosalyn or Rosalie. They loosely translate to beautiful, but deadly. I realize now that that name would have been more fitting then I could have ever imagined."

That was a compliment.

Before I could respond, she turned away and walked farther into her room, allowing me to fully scope it out. We are currently inside a beautiful sitting room, the floors freshly carpeted and the walls a pale gold. The seating is beautiful black leather, with a huge flat screen tv mounted on the wall across from it. A beautiful glass table is situated between the seating and the tv. There is a door on the far wall, probably leading into her bedroom.

"Why did you ask me here," I finally blurted out. She paused, turning her body back toward me and raising her delicate eyebrows. "I know it isn't to play catch up, so what is it?"

She nodded her head and walked to the couch, sitting down. Her beautiful blue dress willowed out around her, making her look as regal as she is. I looked down at my leggings and graphic T-shirt. I look completely unworthy of breathing the same air as this woman, let alone being related to her at all.