Spellbound

Chapter 17

    “What?” For a few seconds, Senya forgot she was talking to a prince. Her cheeks bloomed red, and a spurt of anger steamed her brain so much that it forgot to think before she could speak. “Are you crazy? Why would I ever even consider talking to that no-good son of a b***h, let alone marry him? Who do you think I am?”

    Fortunately, Billan was more amused than anything. He gave her a wry smile, and his calm demeanor was enough to snap her out of her rage. “I told you that you probably wouldn’t agree. Even if I got on my knees.”

    The blizzard of shock cleared away, and the horror of what Senya had done finally knocked her manners back. “Oh, excuse me! I didn’t-I mean, I-s**t…Argh! I’m sorry. I apologize! Please, forgive my language. I was just, er—”

    The light boyish chuckle, and the teasing Senya sensed beneath, shut her up. Her face was red from embarrassment now rather than anger. Maybe, if she was lucky, lightning would strike her down. Any moment now.

    “No, no need.” Billan flopped his hair over with a casual sweep of his hand. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have explained to you what I meant instead of shocking you like that.”

    Senya opened her mouth to speak, but her brain was finally cooling down. She thought better of it and clenched her jaw tight. No sense in humiliating herself any more than she already had. Thank the heavens Rellon wasn’t here to criticize her uncultured behavior in front of royalty. She would have to make sure he never heard about it or she would never hear the end of it.

    “What I mean, Senya—that is what I may call you, yes?—is for you to pretend to be engaged to Tyrion. There is absolutely no need for you to actually court or be courted by him. A few simple public stunts that spread a convincing rumor that you’ll be married by the end of the year is all that it takes. A few dates here and there wouldn’t hurt, now would it?”

    “But…” Senya was careful now when she spoke. Short answers, she decided. It would lessen the chance of her saying something stupid. “Why?”

    Billan shrugged, and Senya sensed something—sorrow—in his casual gesture. “He’s the closest friend I’ve ever had.” His voice was quiet but filled with such sincerity that Senya’s heart clenched. She was surprised to find she wanted to help him in any way she could. “Closer than any of the other royal children even. I consider him my brother, though we don’t share a drop of blood, so,” another half-shrug as if he was saying the most obvious thing in the world, “I want him to be happy.”

    “And you think having me as a fake fiancée will make him happy?” Senya was still struggling to connect the dots. “But how? We want nothing to do with each other, we’ve both made that clear. How would I ever make him happy, especially when everyone already knows we can’t stand each other?”

    “No,” Billan said, once again sending Senya into a bout of confusion. Did he always speak in puzzles or had her anger been so hot that it turned her brain into ash? “This will only be another step towards his happiness. You both will have to brave through a period of absolute misery, perhaps for years depending on how your relationship is perceived. But, in the end, he will be free. Free to find the happiness he deserves.”

    “Free,” Senya echoed. She decided not to ask him about her happiness. Not yet at least because it finally clicked. “From Pria.”

    His smile was all the confirmation she needed. It faltered, subtle but Senya was able to catch it. “Royal children are bound by the fetters of our duty. We do what we must to maintain order, though it doesn’t mean we like it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t resent that Tyrion is not my true brother. At least he can make his own decisions, decisions that won’t have a whole country and politics and producing future kings and queens depending on them. As much as I also love Pria, I refuse to let her trap Tyrion the same way we have been trapped our entire lives.” He let out a resigned sigh. “It would be so much easier if he felt the same way about her.”

    Senya was speechless. Part of her was wary, wondering if she should be privy to such blatant resentful thoughts of the royal council, but mostly, she was shocked. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine why Prince Billan, a gentle, sympathetic soul could be that close to an arrogant prick like Tyrion.

    “Of course,” Billan seemed to have mistaken her stunned silence for rejection. “You would benefit from this, too. It would be rude of me to put you through years of misery and sour your reputation without rewarding you equally. Tell me, Senya, of anything you want in this world, and I will give it to you.”

    “I…” It was too much to think about, the choices too sudden to make. Anything in the world? What could Senya possibly want from a prince? No…a future king. To have a royal council king indebted to her was…

    No. What was she thinking? It was one thing to be in the favor of the royal council, but to sacrifice her public image for someone she didn’t even like? “Prince Billan, I don’t think—”

    “An estate for your family, perhaps,” Billan interjected, once again shocking her into silence. “This offer doesn’t benefit only you, Senya. It could extend to your family, your friends. I could have your father promoted to an advisor, provide land for your family, give you wealth to raise your status. You and your mother would be the first witches to ever become nobles. It would surely cancel your poor reputation, or at least this scandal with Tyrion would be long forgotten by then.”

    “Impossible,” Senya breathed. Her head just reeled thinking about it. “Witches can’t—”

    “Perhaps not all witches,” Billan said. “But your parents saved Plathea. Even the public would think nothing of your family entering the noble circle.”

    “I don’t know…” Senya frowned, turning the thought over. “It’d be good and all, becoming nobles, but we’re well off enough as it is. We’re happy.”

    “Doors open.” Billan flashed a white-toothed grin, an echo of mischief faintly gleaming in his eyes. “Think of the barriers you faced because you were a witch. They will be nothing in a few years. You’ll be able to achieve whatever you want.”

    Senya had no idea why Alton was the first thing that popped into her mind. She blushed. But, he wasn’t all. If her family could gain such status, her father wouldn’t ever need to work again, her mother could paint as much as she wanted, and even Rellon would be able to buy all those books he drooled over and learn under the most elite doctors in the world. He could finally have that breakthrough he always dreamed about.

    And Senya…Senya would have all the money to spend on whatever she wanted, do whatever she wanted. She would never have to feel like the outsider among her friends. Selfish? Yes, but she’d be earning it. Trading a few years of rock bottom for a lifetime of luxury didn’t sound so bad. And…

    “Friends?” Senya had picked it up.

    Billan nodded. “Whatever your friends want, I will grant where possible.”

    Liane starting her own business, Ellaine setting up an orphanage, Veira becoming a diploma of Plathea.

    “And besides,” Billan added. “You will only have this choice if Tyrion agrees. Otherwise, nothing will come of it, and you can go on with your life as it is.”

    Damn, the prince was persuasive. The more Senya thought about it, the more appealing his proposal became. She could endure an arse like Tyrion if it meant a better future for her loved ones, and surely, Tyrion would never agree to something like this. The safety of promised luxury and the assurance that such an outlandish idea would never work convinced her.

    Senya nodded, smiling slightly as she warmed to the idea. “I accept, Pri—er, Billan.” Not like Tyrion would ever agree to it, anyway.

    She was gratified with a look of sheer relief. Billan’s shoulders rose as if a burden had been lifted. His smile held genuine glee this time, and somehow, he appeared lighter, a feather of his former self. “Thank you, Senya. Thank you so very much.”

    “Really,” Senya held up her hands dismissively. “No need to thank me. I’m sure the reward will be more than enough.”

    “You’re too kind.” Billan seemed to be bouncing on his heels. He grabbed her hand casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Shall we go make arrangements then?”

    “Wait, what?” Senya was taken aback for the thousandth time by the prince’s spontaneity. “A-arrangements?”

    Billan chuckled. “If I’m right, Tyrion will be looking for any reason to be getting out of the ball by now. If he’s been vigilant, he should be successfully avoiding Pria. Come now. I’ll take you to a room where we can discuss the details. Put it in a contract if you will.”

    “You want to do this now?” Senya had the awful feeling that she shouldn’t have agreed to his request. She now realized that the only reason she agreed was because she thought it would pass and never come to fruition. But for it to be happening so soon…Senya felt sick.

    “Yes, is that a problem?”

    She had given him her word. What would he think if she refused as soon as he acted on his proposal? Senya couldn’t refuse. All she could now hope was for Tyrion to reject the idea completely. Surely he would be just as repulsed to pretend to love her as she.

    “N-no, sir.” Senya let out a slow breath, dispelling her panic. It would be alright. There was no way this was going to work. “Lead the way.”

    “Fantastic!” Billan swerved around and headed back into the palace with a spring in his steps.

    Watching him, the strange glee he took in the success of his proposal, Senya was momentarily glad to be the reason for his joy. But then, she remembered what the proposal was. A thought dropped lead into her stomach, and Senya suddenly wished she had never left her room.

    How the hell was she ever going to explain this to her family?