Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
But Odette did not want a royal, and her words were not empty.
“I doubt she will want to see me today. So, let us go to this city,” I said, lifting one of the flowers and smelling it.
“Sir—”
“I am not just going to sit here all day and wait for her. I am not on house arrest. Figure out a way,” I replied, putting back the flower.
I needed the air, a good walk in the cold to see her city. Maybe that would help me figure out what more I could do for this woman. She was tougher than I expected. “Maybe I can find someplace to take her for the weekend?”
“This weekend will not work. Her concert is this Friday, and I already have tickets.”
Both Iskandar and I looked at Wolfgang as he texted on his phone. It took him a few seconds to notice, as we had not replied, and when he did, his gaze shifted between us both. “Yes?”
“Why do you already have tickets to her concert?” I questioned.
“I thought you might want to go at some point and saw she had one coming up, so I took the initiative. I am your personal secretary to have your needs met,” he answered.
Something was off. However, I let it go.
That settled this weekend. What was I supposed to do until then?
Chapter 15
I woke up to another letter, no flowers, just a letter my mother had decided to put next to my pillow. And it read:
NOVEMBER 3
Dear Odette,
Some say the moon and the sun are at war,
others say they are wed in the sky,
But what if they are neither?
What if they are simply burning and freezing rocks?
Burning and freezing.
What, then, does that say about those who said?
The first poem I ever wrote was this—do not laugh. I know it is not very good. And I do not know why I am sharing it now. I wanted to write to you, but I wasn’t sure what to write. You left me a bit flat-footed, and I am not sure what to make of myself or this situation. So yes, I hope you have a good day.
See what you have done to me?
—GM.
I smiled for some reason without thinking. When my mind finally come back to me, I put down the letter.
I wasn’t going to give in to him just because of a few lines of poetry. Besides, I had things to do—a concert to prepare for.
No princes.
No more dates.
Just focus, Odette.
NOVEMBER 4
Dear Odette,
Since my poetry failed to move you, here is one I read today that reminded me of you.
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
—William Wordsworth
It just occurred to me that you might actually hate poetry altogether? And if that is the case, I am very much screwed. For if I do not have the right words, and the greats do not have the right words, whatever am I to say to get your attention?
GM
I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but I did. Without even realizing it, I began to message Gale back then froze. What was I doing?
What was he doing?
Honestly, he couldn’t plan on writing to me every day, could he?
Even if I did not reply?
NOVEMBER 5
Dear Odette,
I must admit a small part of me hoped you would have called, written a letter, or sent a carrier pigeon if all else failed—however, no matter. I will not let this discourage me. Your city, Seattle, is very damp. It reminds me a lot of England. But it has its own charms. The people most especially. I find myself entertained just watching people here. Never mind me, though, how has your week been?
How do you move and breathe through this world?
What are you seeing?
What are you hearing?
GM
I wondered where the poetry went this time. Did he think I disliked it? I bit my lip, not sure what to say back, especially after not answering. Taking my phone, I recorded the sound of my guitarist and sent it to him as a message.
She speaks...well, sort of. However, I shall take it! He texted back.
I laughed.
“Odette?” One of the guys called out to me from the stage.
“Huh?”
“We’re ready.”
“Right.”
Sorry. Busy. I messaged back before putting my phone away. I was really busy, but I was sort of...excited to see what he’d write tomorrow.
He didn’t write.
I waited all freaking day.
But no letter came.
So now I was lying in bed feeling a little anxious.
But I didn’t call, either, because...But what if he wanted me to write, so he stopped writing? And I didn’t want to show that it bothered me because, apparently, I was ridiculous.