One man's trash

When he had kissed her brow she was so close to swiping his nose as hard as she could muster. Her breathing had grown heavy and ragged as she waited for him to leave the den.

As she heard him pad down the ramp she flew into the furs of the bed and screamed. She screamed and thrashed into the soft furs. She threw a pillow at the wall. She was blind with the inferno roiling within. Her collections on the shelves swiped in one smooth motion to fall on the ground. They scattered across the floor.

She crumpled in her angry tears as she lifted one off the ground and clutched it to her chest. She was being immature, she was being stupid, how could she be so dumb and blind to thrash her own stuff like this? Was it really so awful?

She found the tiger skin coat Wylan had made her, that first frigid winter she was here. That sweet boy. Her breath shuddered against her chest. She found the sketch she did of Spider in a corner and a fresh wave of grief overcame her.

"She is not your friend..." Why couldn't she be? Why couldn't Yara be? Why couldn't any of them be a friend to her? Why couldn't Spider or Wylan be? Ollie, Tethys, Andromeda... Any of them? She was too busy placating and fucking the warlord she guessed. Somehow she was placed on a pedestal above them all and none of them wanted anything to do with her. Had she been so blind and selfish to find herself in this mess?

No, she was Consort of Armada now. She was part of the leadership. She wasn't allowed to have friends. Friends was another name for ally in the political world and they were transactional. There was no such thing as friends for a Consort or a Warlord. There were no friends for a princess either.