Loathe to Love Ch. 02

I stopped talking to Natalia after the ball.

To be fair, I stopped talking to everyone as my wedding approached—scowls, glares, and pouts proved more than capable of conveying my thoughts and feelings. Everyone already thought I was a miserable spoiled bitch; I could at least prove them correct and make life as difficult as possible for them.

It was the only act of resistance I had left against a terribly unfair, cruel world. Mother had officially put Selene in charge of my behavior until my wedding night, and the majordomo's constant vigilance meant I couldn't do anything to let off steam. No sneaking around, no pilfering, no careful sabotage. Even looking like I was thinking about misbehaving was all it took to get Mary's iron grip clamping down on my shoulder. Quiet sulking was all I had left. They could make me participate in my own ritual humiliation, but they couldn't make me do it with a smile on my face.

To work around my reluctance, the rest of Natalia's 'courtship' was organized in such a way to briefly show everyone we were together before hustling us off to a private locale. A public show of us entering a carriage that proceeded to drive away to a remote vista for a picnic. Afternoon tea in the castle gardens where we were made to go onto the balcony and hold hands for a few minutes before tasting scones and finger sandwiches in bitter silence. Tournaments where Natalia jousted, dueled, and fenced while I slouched in a secluded spectator box. The knight initially tried conversing with me during our outings, but gave up when it became clear I was making a conscious, consistent effort to ignore her.

I almost felt a little bad for her, seeing how lost and uncomfortable she looked on those occasions. But engaging with her meant doing what my mother and Janice and every other pompous schemer wanted, and I simply could not allow that. The thought of one of our many chaperones reporting on how we'd 'made progress' or 'started warming to one another' was too grim for me to risk speaking up.

Yet every withheld word and prevented act of misbehavior seemed to build up within me, like dark clouds gathering before a massive storm. I started sleeping late and staying up even later, while my appetite practically ceased to exist.

My wedding day itself was worst of all—my entourage of servants doubled as the wardens of my own personal prison, blocking me in with their bodies and fastening an elaborate, restrictive dress to my willowy frame. I was more tempted than ever before to break my mutism then, to scream and swear and spit and decry the sick spectacle of my enslavement. But I knew there would be no point. Even still, I was practically trembling with anger when I walked the flower-choked aisle and stood at the altar, half expecting the fire in my eyes to singe my veil.

The festivities dragged on, with hours spent on feasts and songs and endless lines of idiot reject nobles offering congratulations and trying not to burst into tears. I made a point of showing as little affection as I possibly could to Natalia, holding her hand by the tip of a single finger or kissing the air right in front of her lips.

By the time it was over, the sun had long since set and I had long since blocked out the world entirely. A carriage arrived to take Natalia and I to our new estate. Mother spoke to us before we left, stressing the importance of consummating the marriage and telling Natalia firm discipline was necessary to keep me under control. The knight nodded along, though to her credit I could tell her jaw was tight with displeasure.

Just like the months before it, the carriage ride elapsed in silence. We arrived at our manor—a relatively simple home compared to the castle, but nevertheless one with plenty of redundant rooms and finely crafted furniture—and our new servant staff led us to our bedroom.

Natalia paused at the doorway and turned to look at me, her delicate brow furrowed. "I have no intention of forcing you to do anything. I know today was incredibly difficult for you, and I respect—"

I went into the bedroom, slammed the door shut behind me, and locked Natalia out.

After a moment, I heard her sigh and walk away.

The room was like a stranger wearing familiar clothes; a majority of my belongings had been moved in already, the same wide bed and deep blue silks feeling far less inviting in their new circumstances. High ceilings and tall, arched windows provided the space and dim light necessary to cast long, creeping shadows. In the corner, a small collection of Natalia's things were stacked in a neat pile. A few unlabeled boxes along with all sorts of fine glassware and delicacies she'd received as wedding gifts.

Seeing her things in my room caused the month's collective tension to finally become too great. I snapped.

Barely able to see what I was doing with the tears in my eyes, I unlocked the nearest window with a harsh shove and yanked it open. Cool night air caressed my face and ruffled the skirts of my wedding gown—I hadn't yet had time to change. The breeze barely registered with me. I felt numb. I had officially been cast off by my family, dumped out of sight and out of mind in exchange for them gaining a minute amount of political capital. I hadn't been in control of my past and I had no real control over my future. So why should I be expected to control myself in the present?

My hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle—one of the gifts Natalia had received. I chucked it out of the window as hard as I could with a cathartic scream, the vocal rage not-quite covering up the sound of shattering glass. If my wife thought we could share a space or cohabitate, she was dead wrong.

I grabbed a second wine bottle and sent it the way of the first, followed by a music box, several plates, and a tunic. Hearing them clatter against the cobblestone path below did nothing to relieve my anger, which was perfectly fine by me—I had every right to stew.

A servant knocked on the door and asked if I was alright. I ignored him.

A ceremonial rapier, a set of inkwells and pens, and a violin flew out into the night before landing with a crash.

Several servants conversed behind the door in hushed tones, trying the doorknob and finding it locked.

"GO AWAY!" I shrieked. They did.

Fancy linens, books about famous battles, and a portrait of me soared to their demise. My arms and shoulders began to ache, though they trembled less from exhaustion and more from the stupid damn injustice of this world finally getting to me.

A much stronger knock on the door. Natalia's voice, tired and a little bit exasperated. "Penelope?

I increased my pace, lobbing handfuls of loose objects around the room without even seeing what they were. Most of them no longer cleared the window, instead forming a maelstrom of chaos centered around a girl who was terribly, horribly alone.

A set of keys jingled. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Natalia unlocked the bedroom door and came in. I whipped around, intending to lash out as a preemptive defense. Best to start things off as they would no doubt continue, I supposed.

But when I took in Natalia, I didn't see Selene's terse disappointment or my mother's aloof stoicism. Instead, deep concern was written across my wife's face. She wore a loose shift with her hair in a messy bun, and her bare feet were carefully perched away from a crystal tumbler I'd thrown to the floor. Her casual, appearance and calm demeanor was so unexpected I didn't know how to react.

Natalia exhaled ever so slightly, then stepped over discarded wedding gifts to sit on the edge of the bed. "Rough night?"

I clenched my fists. "If you're just here to mock me, then get the hell out of my sight."

But Natalia's expression didn't transform into the sneer I'd expected—if anything, she seemed surprised and a little hurt. "No! That's not...I'm not trying to mock you at all, Penelope. Truly."

My eyes narrowed in suspicion, but I allowed her to continue.

"Sorry. I'm...bad with words, I suppose. Always have been. Hard to find the right ones at the right times." Natalia clasped her hands in her lap to stop her nervous fidgeting.

Whatever elaborate game she was playing, I wasn't interested. "Stop it, Natalia."

"Stop what?"

I crossed my thin arms, spite and the chill making me huddle inward. "This act. You don't have to play the supportive wife anymore." Unexpected tears welled up in my eyes, and my voice rose in volume and pitch erratically. "The courtship is over and we're out of the public eye, so you can stop pretending to care about me. Just leave me alone like everyone else."

My throat ached and my chest occasionally heaved from all of my held-in sobs. I kept glaring at Natalia, bracing myself for her screams or punishments.

She gently wrapped one of her strong arms around my waist, then pulled me down onto her lap. Her free hand started stroking my hair, the tips of her fingers lightly scratching and massaging my scalp.

I froze.

This didn't...I wasn't...why was...why?

Finding no hard edges to bounce off of, my anger deflated into sorrow. The sobs burst forth, somehow both encouraged and eased by Natalia's touch. I didn't understand it, but on a purely physical, primal level, it felt nice. For the time being, that was enough.

An involuntary whimper escaped me. Natalia tightened her hold reassuringly.

I soon ran out of energy to keep my body tense, and relaxed into her. Not long after that, my font of tears dried up and I went quiet. The knight's fingers continued running through my hair throughout, offering soft touch in a steady rhythm. In some moments it seemed like an indignity; in others, a goddess-sent gift. Some moments I was so numb that I barely noticed it. But at no point did I ever seriously consider moving away or asking her to stop.

My breathing grew deep and even and my eyes fluttered closed. To struggle I needed willpower and a target, and in my present situation I had neither. Distantly, I felt Natalia lay me down on my side and tuck me into bed before she left the room.

The click of the door closing behind her was accompanied by a pang in my heart, but sleep was far too close for me to determine what it meant.

***

Morning found the path beneath my window completely clean, providing an unfortunate contrast to the still-ransacked bedroom. Dwelling on the previous night made me a bit uneasy, setting my stomach at war with itself and making me want to curl up and hide in bed all day. I very nearly did—the only reason I confronted the day was a vague desire to speak with Natalia about...everything.

She'd succeeded where dozens of nannies, tutors, servants, and even Carmen had failed: She'd successfully calmed me down in the middle of an outburst. And yet still I didn't know why, didn't know the motive behind it, and it bothered me. Maybe talking it over could help me figure that out. Maybe talking it over could help me get my head straight about what exactly happened and what my role in it was.

Not wanting to call in servants, I slipped into a relatively stripped down version of my normal attire—a simple shift, corset, and teal dress—and wandered the unfamiliar halls of my new home. The lighter, softer wood of the manor felt warmer and more friendly than the royal castle, especially with how it cheerily reflected the morning sun. Brief glances into open doors revealed sitting rooms, guest rooms, and studies waiting to be decorated more thoroughly. It all felt more...approachable than it had the night before. A ridiculous sentiment, I knew, but one that helped soothe me anyway.

I descended the staircase to find Natalia in the parlor, sipping tea and staring out at the wooded hills of our estate.

"Good morning." I hesitated, then flopped down in the chair beside her.

"Good morning." Natalia glanced over at me, adjusting her light shirt and trousers to be more presentable. "Did you sleep well?"

I didn't answer. The words weren't coming—the tension in my stomach told me not to leave last night unaddressed, but I had no idea what 'addressing' it even meant. Lacking any better ideas and growing uncomfortable with the silence, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm not going to throw anything else out of the window."

My shoulders tensed in anticipation of her response.

Natalia took another sip of tea, then gave me a sideways glance. "That's good."

"Yes, well, it was a waste of money. Those gifts were very valuable." The tension remained unresolved, and I kept nervously blabbering. "And if anyone found out, they could take great offense. There are plenty of practical reasons not to...throw gifts. Out of the window."

Natalia scratched her head, leaving her short hair a little ruffled. "...Okay."

I kept my chin up and my chest out, affecting confidence I did not have. "If I were to go back, then I would not throw gifts out of the window."

My wife blinked. "Is this...are you trying to apologize?"

A frown made its way onto my face as I considered.

Was I?

Aside from the few moments mother or Selena forced me to say sorry to guests, I rarely if ever apologized. I'd had no need for it; I was a princess, and my 'misdeeds' were justified acts of rebellion against my family's unfair expectations. With Natalia, though, the same rules no longer applied. The thought of hurting her had little appeal, and I didn't want her to see me as—

Mother would want me to apologize.

The realization steeled my resolve. Politeness and worrying about others was her world, a world I refused to participate in.

"Of course I'm not apologizing," I blustered. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, good." Natalia nodded and went back to watching the scenery. "Because you don't need to."

My thoughts tripped over each other at her unexpected reaction. "...what?"

Natalia shrugged. "I made sure everything I wanted or cared about was safely away from your bedroom. What you broke was essentially yours." She took another sip of tea and mumbled into her mug, trying to conceal a small smile. "Thought it might provide a little enrichment for you. Didn't expect you'd be quite so rough, though."

My face blushed bright red. I started squirming in my seat, simultaneously angry she'd duped me, relieved I hadn't broken any of her treasured belongings, and beyond flustered at how demeaning it all was. "I...I am not one of your hounds to be kept away from valuables! To be given toys to break! To...to..."

Natalia quirked an eyebrow at me, and my mind and body froze up altogether. She hadn't even deceived me; there was no need. She'd just recognized how I was behaving and adjusted accordingly. Like...like training one of her hounds.

Goddess help me.

The flush of my face had spread down my neck and chest, my breaths were quick and shallow, and my thighs squeezed together in a vain attempt to satisfy a need I barely understood.

Natalia looked on, puzzled. "Penelope? Are you alright?"

"You...you manipulated me!" I pointed a finger at her.

"What? How?"

"I don't know!" Each of my words and gestures radiated exasperation. I reached up and grabbed a fistful of my short hair in dismay. "You're playing these mind games, making me feel...things, and I just...just stay away from me!"

Too overwhelmed to continue, I jumped up out of my chair and bolted from the room. Unfamiliar with the manor's layout and too frazzled to approach it logically, I wandered aimlessly for a time before slipping inside a nearby linen closet to calm down.

Why now? The warm, nervous excitement coursing through my abdomen wasn't exactly unfamiliar—I'd at least experimented with myself in the past—but it had chosen an awfully inconvenient time to make itself known. Maybe it was her earlier touch getting inside my head and clouding my thoughts.

"Idiot!" I hissed. "Get a hold of yourself."

I'd managed for years without affectionate touch; I could manage just fine moving forward. It was just a matter of acting cool and controlled. Convince others, then convince myself. Go about my normal routines. Show Natalia she couldn't phase me.

And for the next day or so, I did exactly that. I dined at regular hours, slept in late, paced my room, did some reading, wrote a poem and immediately tore it up so Natalia couldn't find it, sewed a bit, wandered the manor trying to 'accidentally' run into Natalia so I could scowl at her, waited around the dining room for Natalia to come so I could make a show of refusing to eat with her, asked servants where Natalia was, learned she was taking her meal in the gardens, got disappointed and annoyed, informed the servants I didn't actually care, then sulked some more before—

"Forget it!" I hissed at my empty (and now debris-free) bedroom. If Natalia thought she could be free of me through simple avoidance, then she had another thing coming. "Won't be that easy..."

I swiped a pair of hairpins from my dresser drawer, then flagged down a nearby gangly servant boy. "Show me where my wife has been sleeping."

He nodded nervously, then took me to the least assuming guest bedroom tucked in the corner of the top floor—typical of Natalia to pick such a spot. Probably. I didn't really know her that well. As expected, the door was locked. She knew well enough to be wary of my abilities, but not well enough to avoid underestimating them. Hairpin in hand, I leaned over to begin getting past the lock.

"I-is there anything else I can help you with, ma'am?" The young servant hadn't left, for some reason.

"Shoo." I waved him off.

His voice cracked. "Mistress Natalia told me—"

A wicked glare made him fall silent, but didn't quite scare him off. Impressive. I opened my mouth to deliver some particularly foul language, then thought better of it—perhaps I could use this to my advantage.

"Go ahead. Tell her what I'm doing." The look on Natalia's face once she realized I could get into any room at any time was going to be fantastic. Grateful for the opportunity, Mister Greasy Hair scampered away.

Fortunately, the locks of my new home were no better than those of the castle. I lost myself in the work, carefully bending and twisting my hairpins as needed to click and set each of the tumblers into place. Selene had once told me I was wasting my time learning the delicate craft of infiltration—showed what she knew, the old bat. I deftly proved my practice hadn't been in vain, opening the door within two or three minutes to reveal whatever secrets lay beyond.

"And here we are..." I mumbled, strolling inside my wife's bedroom with all the confidence of the Queen I'd likely never become. At first glance, I was unimpressed. Plain linens on a modestly sized bed, a desk with a smattering of papers and small keepsakes, and a relatively small dresser that wasn't even close to full. Not particularly extravagant or full of character, it seemed.

But upon further inspection, character was exactly what shone through on every surface. The 'papers' weren't just dull correspondences—small sketches of assorted plants and animals were placed around and between the paperwork. A letter opener was in fact a broken dagger with a jagged edge, while what had appeared to be a paperweight from a distance was actually a petrified leaf. I looked over each of the items closely, completely engrossed.

In the dresser, a well-worn uniform was stuffed behind the more familiar tunics and trousers. I traced my fingers over a particularly violent hole in one of the shoulders of the garment, fascinated and curious about the story behind it. Did she have a scar in the same spot? If I asked, would she take off her shirt and let me trace my fingers over it, looking up adoringly as she recounted the heroic tale of how she was wounded? I would feel the potent muscles underneath her smooth skin until she finally leaned forward and kissed—