Royal Disaster: The Complete Series

by Casey, Ember

  I rub the back of my neck. “Okay, I get that much…but how exactly do you ‘audition’ to a king?”

  “I can’t do all the work for you,” Andrew says. “Or it sort of defeats the purpose. But you need to take some initiative here. If you do, my father will notice. He might not suddenly retract everything he’s demanded of you, but he’ll be a lot more amenable to your cause.”

  Okay, but that still doesn’t help me. How do you ‘court’ a man who rules a country? A man who has more wealth and power than I can even imagine?

  “I trust you’ll think of something,” Andrew says. “And for the love of God, try not to turn this into another one of your jokes…”

  “I won’t, I won’t,” I grumble.

  “Good.” My answer seems to satisfy him for now. “I have some work with the Senate this morning, but I look forward to hearing your solution. I hope you take my advice to heart.” With that, he turns on his heel and heads right back out the door.

  When he’s gone, I turn to Sophia. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Was your father this difficult with your brothers’ wives?”

  “Not even close,” she replies. “But he was definitely this hard on my brothers. Albeit hard on them in a different way.”

  I sigh. What does Andrew want me to do? How do I impress a king?

  Under different circumstances, with a different person, I’d know exactly what to do—bring in Twisted Throne, put on a private, mind-blowing show, maybe even sample a few unreleased songs. But I have a feeling that His Royal Snootiness wouldn’t be impressed by that.

  But maybe I can use my skills in another way…

  And Sophia has told me a few things about what her father likes—horseback riding, for one. And I know he likes feeling superior to me. Maybe that’s what I should do—invite him on a horseback ride, suck up to him a lot, that sort of thing. Maybe I can even write and perform a song about him.

  I wince. Maybe not about him. But I can write one about Montovia. Or about how much I love and respect his daughter. The more I think about it, the more I’m liking this idea.

  “What are you thinking?” Sophia asks suspiciously. “The look on your face is scaring me.”

  I grin. “It’s a surprise.” I pull her close. “Your father is going to have no idea what hit him.”

  Sophia

  Pax has been gone for far too long, and I’m beginning to worry about him. After the incident in our suite this morning he said he needed some time to himself, which only seemed fair. Even I would admit the ‘prince lessons’ have gone a bit far—and some of my brothers are finding them all too amusing. I knew it was taking its toll on him, but I guess I didn’t realize how much. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have scheduled as much free time for him as I had ‘prince’ time. We’ve barely even seen Montovia outside the palace walls, and I’d like nothing more than to show him more of the country I love—the entire reason for him going through this ordeal in the first place.

  My mother has invited us for lunch today, but there’s no way for me to get the message to Pax. Wherever it is he took off to, he didn’t take his phone. Probably on purpose, though I can’t blame him. I can only hope that he chooses to come back.

  I make my way to my mother’s informal dining room. It isn’t often that we eat here—she usually invites guests to take tea with her here in the afternoons.

  She’s already seated when I enter, and she stands to greet me, holding out her arms. “Sophia! It feels like it’s been too long since we’ve spoken.”

  We embrace, and she hugs me tightly. I can’t help but smile. “We spoke at dinner last night, Mother.”

  “Well, I’d hardly call what we do at dinner speaking.” She releases me, motioning for me to sit in the chair across from her. “Where is your husband?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. And I apologize for his absence. He’d already left when I received your invitation for lunch.”

  “Nonsense. No need to apologize.” Her lips spread into a smile. “Perhaps it was meant to be. We haven’t had a mother-daughter luncheon in some time.”

  I return her smile as I take my seat. It has been too long. My mother and I have always been quite close, but I’ve barely seen her alone since I met Pax. My stomach twists a bit with guilt at the thought.

  “Your wedding plans are coming along nicely. You’ve been so busy with your husband that I haven’t had the chance to show you everything. I hope you trust my judgment.”

  “Of course I do, Mother.” I spread my napkin on my lap. “And I appreciate your attention to detail. You know it isn’t my strongest skill.”

  She pauses, still smiling. “Of all my children, I feel I probably know you best, Sophia. And I know something is troubling you.”

  I try to keep my expression from changing, but my mother knows me too well—it won’t matter if I fake a grin because she’ll see right through it.

  “Are you and your husband having…difficulties?” She reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. “The first year is the most difficult, especially after the newness wears off. But you can keep things interesting. Try new things.”

  My brow furrows. “Try new…things?”

  She nods. “When your father and I were first married, there were still sparks. Things were still new enough that each night was like a new experience. But after a while, that shine begins to fade. And when it does, you can always do something new to keep things…fun. Try new positions or—”

  “My God, Mother! You’re giving me…” My voice drops to almost a whisper—even though we’re alone and in an informal dining room, I know how completely inappropriate this sort of talk is at the table, particularly in my family. “You’re giving me sex advice?”

  Her smile widens and she pats my hand. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. All married couples go through it. Since you married so far away—and so suddenly—I never had the chance to talk to you about it. I always meant to. I would have had the same conversation with your brothers, but it seemed…inappropriate. If your father were a bit more open, I’m sure he would have—”

  “Mother.” My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and I take a long drink of water before I can speak again. “I’m…fine. In that department.”

  “Good.” She pats my hand again and gives me a smile as the waiter serves the lunch dishes to us.

  As soon as he leaves, she turns back to me. “Just remember that when things get a bit…boring, you can talk to me if you like.”

  “I think…” I shake my head, still not quite sure how in the world we came to this point at all. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Even as I say the words, I can’t believe this is happening. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined my mother giving me sex tips. Just the thought of her and my father… Ugh. It feels as though ants are crawling beneath my skin.

  We eat for a few minutes before my mother turns to me again. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you and your husband to lunch.” She tilts her head. “And it wasn’t so that I might help you in the bedroom.” She smiles again. “I hope you know I would never want to embarrass you in front of your husband. I only meant to help.”

  “I…know.” I take in a long breath. “Why did you ask us to lunch?”

  “I’d heard about these lessons you’ve arranged. And I was wondering if I might help.”

  I nod. “William came up with many of the ideas. I helped to arrange the instructors.”

  “And it seems you’ve done a fine job of it. Monsieur Bonnaire has clearly been working diligently with your husband. It shows at dinner each night. Of course, it would be terribly rude to comment on his manners at dinner, but I wanted him to know how well he’s doing.”

  “He doesn’t seem to think so. I think he was thinking about leaving this morning. He nearly snapped in half. It all may have been a bit too much for him.” I shake my head. “And William and Leopold are having a bit too much fun with it.”

  “Ah, yes, I can see that happening. I�
��ll speak with them. My understanding is that your husband has been working quite hard at these lessons of his. He certainly doesn’t need to be the butt of any jokes.”

  “Well, he does sometimes ask for it. He pokes as much fun at my brothers as they do at him. But he’s trying to fit into our world. It’s difficult for him.”

  “And your father hasn’t been making things any easier, has he?” Her voice is sharp, and she takes a sip from her water glass. “I’ll speak with him. With all of them, if need be. I should have done it sooner, but I’ve been fairly consumed with planning this wedding of yours.”

  “I do appreciate it, Mother. And if I can help, I’d be happy to.”

  “You know how much I love planning these events.” Her smile appears genuinely happy. “And you have enough to do, trying to bring this husband of yours into our family.”

  “I suppose I do—”

  I’m interrupted by a breathless Pax, running into the dining room. He grins at me before turning to my mother. “Sorry I didn’t get the invite until now.” He turns back to me. “But you need to come with me. I have something to show you.”

  Pax

  It’s only after the words are out of my mouth that I realize I’m being rude. I’m just so excited that I didn’t stop to think—obviously I need to hammer those etiquette lessons into my head a few more times.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, turning back to the queen. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just go wait…”

  “Nonsense,” the queen says, rising. “Obviously this is something important.”

  At first I wonder if she’s being sarcastic, but her smile seems genuine. She takes my hand in hers and pats the back of it.

  “My daughter is lucky to have you,” she says. She doesn’t even give me a chance to respond before sweeping out of the room.

  I look sheepishly back at Sophia. “I hope I didn’t just fuck things up with her. I’d hate to turn your mother against me right when I’m about to get your father on my side.”

  “I think she’s fine,” Sophia says. “But what are you talking about? Where have you been?”

  “Planning,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “Figuring out exactly how I’m going to court your father.”

  She looks a little worried. I don’t blame her.

  “Come and see,” I say, grabbing her hands and pulling her out of her chair. “Your father should be meeting us soon. I hope.”

  “Wait, what have you done?”

  I laugh. “You’ll see.”

  I lead her through the palace and out back to the stables. I’ve spent all morning getting everything ready, and I think I might actually pull this off. Assuming His Majesty shows up, of course. I asked Monsieur Bonnaire to help me draft up a nice-looking formal invitation. He told me this whole thing was a little unorthodox, but otherwise there’s nothing wrong with it, etiquette-wise. So I just have to hope that the king finds my creativity refreshing.

  Mr. Ingleton has finished saddling up Cinnamon by the time we arrive. He was hesitant about saddling the king’s horse without a direct order from His Majesty himself, but when I explained the situation, he seemed to take pity on me. Though I’m pretty sure I’ll get thrown under the bus if the king decides to get pissed about any of this.

  Sophia eyes Cinnamon, then looks back at me. “You still haven’t explained what’s going on. And I’m a little afraid of what it is if it includes both my father and a horse.” Humor flashes in her eyes. “Do you think if you let him watch you fall off a couple of times he’ll be so entertained he’ll take pity on you?”

  “If only it were that easy.” I grin, and then pat Cinnamon on the neck. I’m still nervous around this guy, but we’re becoming friends. I think. It’s possible he’s just waited until today—until the one day it really matters—to try and kill me. “And I haven’t fallen off in a week. Give me some credit.”

  She smiles and strokes Cinnamon on the nose. “I’m trying.”

  “I thought I’d take your father for a ride and have a chat with him. Man-to-man. Let us get to know each other a little better.”

  Instantly, she looks worried again. “What kind of chat are we talking about?”

  “Trust me, Sophia, I’m going to charm him.” I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turn.

  Thank God. The king has just entered the stables, and though he looks annoyed to be here, he showed up. That’s a victory.

  His frown deepens when he sees us, and he strides over. “What is the meaning of this?” He raises his hand, holding the letter I had delivered to him.

  Sophia takes the letter from him, and her eyes scan the words. She looks up at me in surprise.

  But I’ve already prepared for this. I bow deeply—just as Monsieur Bonnaire showed me.

  “Your Majesty,” I say, “I would be honored if you’d join me on a horseback ride. I have some important matters I’d like to discuss with you, and I thought it would be more pleasant for both of us to get some exercise around your beautiful grounds as we talked.”

  When I straighten, I find both Sophia and the king looking at me in shock.

  “I understand that you’re a busy man, Your Majesty,” I go on, “but since we already had a meeting scheduled for this afternoon, I hoped you could make the time for this.”

  For a moment, I think the king is going to refuse. Just to spite me. But then his eyes flick past me—to where I hear Mr. Ingleton leading his horse out of his stall—and I see something flicker in the king’s eyes.

  “Very well,” he says stiffly. “You can have half an hour.”

  “You honor me, Your Majesty.”

  The king strides over to his horse, and I turn back to Sophia, who still looks stunned.

  “Who the heck are you and what have you done to Pax?” she demands in a whisper.

  I grin at her. “That’s Prince Pax, to you.” I wink. “Wish me luck.”

  It only takes me one try to get up on Cinnamon, which is something of a miracle. I still feel like I’m only a strong breeze away from falling right off his back, but I try not to think about that. I turn Cinnamon and lead him out of the stable after the king.

  His Majesty still doesn’t trust me, obviously, but his spirits already seem a little brighter now that he’s on the back of his horse—a big, beautiful stallion I heard Mr. Ingleton call Ulysses.

  I don’t push it. We ride in silence for a little while, out through the palace grounds. I try to focus on the beautiful scenery all around me and not the lurching in my stomach every time Cinnamon takes a step. I’m gripping the reins so tight my knuckles are white.

  Finally, the king speaks. He sounds more content than I’ve ever heard him. “It’s been too long since they let me ride.”

  I’m not sure if he’s waiting for a response from me. In fact, I’m not sure if he even remembers I’m here. He’s tipped his head back slightly, and his eyes are closed.

  But I’m not going to get through this by being a pussy.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Your Majesty,” I say. “You’re a fine rider.”

  The king opens his eyes and glances at me sidelong. “You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you? Monsieur Bonnaire could teach you a thing or two about the proper execution of flattery.”

  “It’s not flattery if it’s true,” I point out. “But maybe you just look like a good rider to me because I’m so bad at it myself.”

  He’s still watching me out of the corner of his eye, but he says nothing.

  We ride further, toward the orchards. I try to guide him toward where I want us to go and he lets me take the lead. His lack of argument makes me suspicious, though. I wonder if he’s setting me up for something. Waiting to see me fail. Or worse.

  We ride through rows of fruit trees, some still flowering and some already dropping fruit. I don’t know fuck all about fruit trees, but they definitely look pretty, if you’re into that sort of thing.

  Finally, the king speaks again.

 
“Is there a reason you went through all this trouble?” he says. “Or do you really mean for us to ride around in silence for the next twenty minutes? Have you decided on your role or haven’t you?”

  “Actually, You Majesty, I was waiting until we reached a certain spot. Just over here.” I lead Cinnamon just a little ahead, trying not to jerk in the saddle when he speeds up. I emerge from the orchards onto the far side of the trees, where a grassy hill overlooks the valley below.

  I had everything set up—a big, cushioned lawn chair for His Majesty, a small, slightly less cushy one for me. A bottle of brandy and some fruit and cheese sit on a small table between them. I have no idea what kind of food the king likes, but how can you go wrong with alcohol and cheese?

  But his eyes go right past the food and to the guitar case propped against my chair. His eyebrows rise.

  “Are you going to be giving me a private concert?” he asks. By the tone of his voice, he’s not very excited by the prospect.

  “I had a little something prepared,” I say. “But first, how about a drink?”

  I swing down from my saddle—awkwardly, but at least I land on my feet. The king dismounts easily, tosses his reins to me, and strides over to his chair.

  At least he’s going along with it, I tell myself. He might not be acting especially enthusiastic, but it could be worse. He’s here, and he’s listening.

  I tie the horses’ reins around a nearby tree branch, the way Mr. Ingleton showed me. I double-knot it, just in case—the last thing I want is for them to get loose and run off, stranding us here. Then I walk over to my chair and grab the bottle of brandy. I pour us each a glass and hand one to him.

  “To your wonderful daughter, Sophia,” I say, raising my glass.

  The king still looks suspicious, but he lifts his glass. “To Sophia.”

  We each take a sip. The king watches me over the rim of his glass.

  “I’m still waiting,” he says. “I don’t have all day to sit around here with you.”