The Opal Crown Read Online Free Page A

Kyrenican?” I ask, thinking of James and the horrible things he sometimes says about the people of my homeland.
    “Of course not.” She looks at me sympathetically. “How is James?”
    I shrug. “Sometimes when I am with him I feel so horrible. It feels as though I am just . . .”—I search for the right words, and remember something Elara herself once said—“as though I am just playing a role.”
    “Everyone plays a role,” Elara retorts. “Your job is to figure out which one is yours.”
    “But we lie , Elara. Every day we lie. To James. To Stefan. Does it not bother you?”
    Her face hardens. “Leave the city. Then I can build a future with Stefan free of lies.”
    “But you shall always come to him claiming my past. That in itself is a lie. Does it not bother you?”
    In answer, Elara picks up her dress and leaves.
    8
    I do not sidestep James’s hug that evening when I return to the inn. I lean into him, savoring the feel of his arms around me.
    “I’ve missed this,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve missed you .”
    “I know,” I say, hugging him tightly. “Me, too.”
    After he releases me, he resumes filling the mugs and pushes them across the bar to the fishermen waiting.
    “Tonight we celebrate!” says a man, and they all raise their glasses and drink.
    James pours another round and hands me a mug. I slide onto an empty stool. Instead of practicing alone in my room tonight, I think I would rather be here, where it is festive.
    “What are we celebrating?” I ask.
    “Didn’t you hear?” James says. “King Fennrick is dead.”
    I put my mug down quickly, fighting the urge to be sick.
    “What’s wrong?” James asks.
    “You are celebrating a man’s death.”
    “King Fennrick wasn’t a man. He was—”
    “He had a family ,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear whatever insult James was about to hurl. “He had people who cared for him, people who would have liked to see him one last—” I break off, aware that my voice is rising and people are looking.
    Pressure is building again behind my eyes—tears I will not be able to explain. I push back my stool and head for the stairs. “I’m not feeling that well. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
    “Willie, I’m sorry,” James calls. “Please don’t go.”
    Don’t call me Willie! I want to scream as he follows me up the stairs. When I reach my door, James grabs my hand and pulls me back to him. “Willie, wait. Tell me what’s wrong. I know it’s not just the death of a foreign king. Something’s been bothering you for weeks. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
    “I—” The words are on the tip of my tongue. I am Wilhamina Andewyn, the daughter of the barbarian king you despised. “I have just had a long day at the dress shop.” I open my door. “I’m sure I will feel better in the morning.”
    “If you say so.” James frowns. “But I wish you would just talk to me. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
    After he has gone I lock my door behind me and lie down on my bed. I release the tears I have been holding in and cry. I cry for the father who was not cruel, but who was also not kind. For the man I wanted to know, but who never wanted to know me in return.
    Finally, I cry for all the lies I have told.

Chapter 5
    Elara
    W ilha has tied my hands.
    She can’t simply walk away from her life—tell me to take it instead—then continue living in the city, only a few miles from the castle. Does she expect me to wear the mask forever? Will I have to hide my face from my own children one day, for fear that they may glimpse Wilha on the streets of Korynth?
    Doesn’t she realize that the role I play every day is what allows her to go on with her new, nonroyal life? Yet it’s obvious she resents me asking her questions about her life—questions whose answers I desperately need—if I am to maintain the charade and keep us both safe.
    She barely contained her annoyance when I asked about Andrei. Aren’t I