by Ember Casey
“No.” I step toward her, closing the distance between us again. “My view on the matter hasn’t changed. I do not intend to marry her.”
“And your father’s okay with this?”
I frown. “Not exactly. He didn’t want to hear what I had to say, so I stopped trying to have a logical discussion with him.”
A wrinkle appears on her brow. “What does that mean? How did you leave things?”
“There’s no ‘leaving things’ with my father, unfortunately. He believes his word is law. He’s convinced I will eventually come to see his side on the matter—but I assure you, I won’t.” I catch her gaze in mine. “There is only one woman I want, Victoria.”
She looks away. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this.”
“It is unfortunate, yes,” I say. “I sincerely regret the part I played in putting you in this position. But denying my feelings for you won’t solve anything. I want to be honest—with you, with my family, and with the world.”
“Sometimes being honest isn’t the right thing. And sometimes we can’t have what we want.”
I dip my face slightly, lowering my voice. “And what do you want, Victoria?”
“This isn’t about me. This is about you. And your family. And Montovia.” Her eyes flick to the door. “What is your father going to make William do?”
“Lady Clarissa did not take kindly to my decision to end things,” I say. “Or my attempt to throw her out of the palace. Unfortunately, she’s still a guest here. But fortunately, given my current circumstances, my father no longer considers her the top choice for my potential bride. She must still be handled carefully, though—she is still family, after all, and she has the potential to make this entire situation worse if we don’t appease her somehow.”
“And where does William come in?”
“Since Leopold is engaged, William is the next eligible bachelor in line,” I say. “My father wants William to publicly court her for a few weeks until my marriage to Princess Justine can be finalized. He’s already spoken to Lord Boris, Clarissa’s father, and they’ve come to a private settlement. But part of their arrangement was for my father to find a way to help Lady Clarissa save face—and unfortunately, that’s where William comes in. They plan to spin a story for the press about Clarissa falling for my brother and deciding to leave the pageant of her own will.”
Victoria rubs her face. “God, this is like one giant soap opera.”
“Unfortunately, when you’re in the public eye these things can’t be avoided sometimes.”
“This could have been avoided.”
“I know. I should have listened to you from the very beginning. You told me this pageant was a terrible idea, and you were right. I didn’t realize so many people would get dragged into this.”
“Poor William. Do you think he’ll actually agree to help?”
I look down at my hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him cross our father before, but to be fair he’s never faced the prospect of being forced to court someone like Lady Clarissa before. Even if it’s for show, I do not envy him. I’m ashamed to call that women part of our family, no matter how far away she is in the family tree.” I’m ashamed of my own behavior toward her, too, but I don’t say that out loud.
All of this—this big, dramatic farce happening around us—is my fault. I know that. I’ve only ever done what I thought was right—but if I’d taken a moment at the beginning to truly think about what I was doing, so much of this could have been avoided.
I’ll make it up to you, William, I think. I’ll make it up to you and everyone. We brothers have to stick together, to help each other through the madness that comes with being a prince—and sharing a father like ours. I’ve covered for Leopold more times than I can count—and I suspect I’ll have plenty of opportunities to help William, Nicholas, and Sophia too as they get older and wilder. Sophia especially is probably going to get herself into all sorts of trouble. But I also know that, despite our differences and our arguments, many of them would help me, too. Why, part of the reason this business with the scepter remained a secret for so long was because Leopold shouldered the blame with our father.
“Well, there you have it,” Victoria says. “William courts Lady Clarissa. You marry Princess Justine. Everything is solved. See? The situation isn’t so hopeless after all.”
“As I’ve already told you, I have no intention of marrying Justine.”
“Andrew…” She shakes her head. “We both know it’s the right thing for you to do. Don’t fight it.”
“Of course I’ll fight it! How many times do I have to tell you, Victoria? You are the only woman I want. The only one I’d ever consider marrying.”
She spins away from me. “We’re friends. We can’t be anything more than friends.”
I jerk a hand through my hair again. God, this is getting frustrating—why won’t she just admit that we belong together? Why is she still refusing to accept the inevitable?
“You never answered my question,” I say to her back.
She doesn’t turn around. “What question?”
I step closer until I’m standing right behind her. Close enough to feel the warmth of her body but not actually touching her. “I asked you what you want. What would you choose if you only had yourself to think about? If none of this other nonsense existed? I want to know your deepest, most selfish desires.” I lean my head closer until my lips are right by her ear. “I don’t care if you think they’re wrong, or impossible, or even foolish. I want to hear them. Right now, in this moment, I just want you to be honest with me.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but I sense the stiffness in her body, feel her trying to fight whatever it is she’s feeling.
Finally, she lets out a long sigh.
“Fine,” she says. “Fine—I’ll tell you the truth. But you have to make me a promise first.”
“Anything.” I’d promise her the moon if she asked it.
“You say you love me.” Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it. “Prove it. If I tell you what I want, then promise me you’ll do everything in your power to make it happen.”
I pause. “Victoria—”
“Promise me.”
I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her back against my chest, but I don’t. “Of course. I promise.”
She gives a single nod, as if everything is settled.
“The one thing I want most,” she whispers, “is for you to find your way through this. To win back the love of your people and be the beloved king you were always meant to be.”
I blink, confused. “Of course, but—”
“I’m not done. We both know what needs to happen for that to come to pass. I want you to marry Princess Justine.”
I straighten. “I will not—”
“You promised me,” she says, spinning around to face me. “You promised you would do everything in your power to give me what I wanted, and that’s what I want. I want you to marry her and fix all of this. I want you to be the man—the king—you were born to be.”
I stare down at her, my entire body rigid. “You tricked me.”
“No. I just told you the truth you don’t want to hear.”
“I ask you want you wanted—for you.”
“That is what I want,” she says, and her eyes are suddenly shining with something that looks like tears. “Is that so hard for you to believe? The one thing I want most is for you to get everything you want and deserve?”
“For the last time, Victoria, I don’t want Princess—”
“You were born to be king. To serve the people of Montovia. And you’ll make a brilliant king, Andrew. I know you will. All of this will pass and they’ll come to love you again. You were meant to do this. And I will never, ever, stand in the way of that.”
“Victoria,” I say. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”
“You promised me,” she says. “Are you saying you don’t intend to keep that promise?”
I just stare at
her. I don’t know what to say, what to do, to make her see sense.
“I just want you to be happy,” I tell her finally.
“That’s what would make me happy,” she says. “Seeing your people love you again. Watching the world forgive you. You might not be perfect—no one is—but the people of this country will see you’re doing everything in your power to make it up to them.”
I shake my head. This is pure foolishness.
“It won’t matter,” I say. “Even if I do as you ask, the press will tear me apart. The story only broke today. It will be worse tomorrow. And the day after that. You were the only friend I have in the press, Victoria. The rest just want to sell magazines or get hits on their websites.”
Her lips tighten.
“You’re right,” she says after a moment. “You do need a member of the press on your side. If you will agree to uphold your promise, then I will stay and cover the story—at least through your public apology and the announcement of your betrothal to Princess Justine. I will make sure people see the truth and I’ll do everything in my power to help you win your citizens back to your side.”
She’s agreeing to stay. To help me. I hardly dare believe it—but it comes at a cost I’m not sure I’m willing to pay.
But she’ll be here. Isn’t that enough? To spend one more day—one more hour—with her would be a blessing. And, at the back of my mind comes an even better thought: That gives you time to change her mind. To make her admit the truth.
If I have to agree to this ridiculousness now, then so be it.
“Fine,” I tell her. “I promise.”
She looks almost surprised at my agreement, but she recovers quickly.
“Good,” she says stiffly. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ve made the right decision, Your Highness.”
Only for now.
“You should go tell your father the good news,” she says, turning away from me.
I start to reach after her. “Perhaps we should go work on my apology speech—”
“Later,” she says without looking back at me. “I need to go shower. And see if my suitcase has arrived.”
I hate to see her go, but if I chase her down, she’ll know the truth—that I’ve lied to her. That I still have no intention of marrying Justine, promises be damned.
Victoria
I’ve been in my room all day today. I don’t want to risk bumping into any members of the royal family—especially Andrew.
It’s been hard to focus today, but I had a job to do. And now that it’s done, I don’t need to stay in Montovia any longer.
Wishing this situation could be different is a waste of my time. I’ve replayed it too many times in my head, and I’m at least as much to blame as Andrew. I didn’t stop him from putting on this stupid pageant. I didn’t object loudly enough. And though I hate to admit it to myself, I had hoped that whatever happened here would further my career somehow. That was all that was supposed to happen—I was supposed to write the best stories I’d ever written and enchant the world with my words.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Prince Andrew.
Not that I will ever admit that out loud to him, no matter what he says to me. It doesn’t matter if he thinks he loves me, too. I can’t give him what he needs. The only thing I can give him is the story I’ve written for him today and the outline of his apology speech.
There’s a stabbing pain in my gut when I think about him moving on with Princess Justine. A tightness in my chest that is barely holding up my heavy heart.
I’ll have to leave the world of celebrity news now. There’s no way I can ever be around it again knowing the threat of seeing Andrew with Justine will always be a possibility. That any time I turn on my computer or look at a television, their smiling faces might be staring back at me.
A small part of me wants to suggest that Andrew and I leave Montovia together—find some deserted island somewhere and live happily ever after. But this isn’t a fairy tale. Prince Andrew was born to be a king. And a king needs an heir—a biological child. And that is the one thing I cannot give him, and it means I’ll never be enough for him or for his country. Even if he did decide to do something stupid like throw away his chance to be with Justine, there would always be a part of him that resented me for taking from him his chance to be a father. I know him well enough to know that. I’ve seen his resentment of Leo—how he thought his brother was trying to usurp him or something when the world thought we had died in the plane crash. I can’t even imagine what sort of thoughts Andrew would have about me if we did try to make some sort of life together. How every time we had an argument might mean he would hold that missing piece of me over my head as some kind of threat.
And there’s the whole greater good that is so important to Andrew. It’s easy for me to sit back and wonder what our life together might look like if he didn’t have the responsibilities he has. But he can’t imagine that life because it’s the only one he’s ever known. He has an entire country full of people who are depending on him to be their leader at some point in the future. They might be pissed off at him right now, but they’ll forgive him. And when they do, he needs to be the future king he was born to be. He can’t do that with me at his side, no matter what he might think.
I’m making the right decision. The only decision. And no matter what Andrew says or thinks, I know this is the only way.
When I hear the soft rapping on my door, I know who it is before I even get there. I only crack the door open, meaning to tell Andrew to go back to his room. I don’t care if we don’t sleep tonight. I need to finish his speech so I can leave in the morning.
Our gazes lock through the small opening, and neither of us says anything for a moment.
I let out a long breath. “I’m pretty busy. I’ll have everything done for you by morning.”
He looks down and I notice he’s carrying a covered serving tray in his hands. “May I come in?”
“I’m not hungry. I think I lost my appetite after our conversation in the gym.”
He frowns. “May I come in?”
I roll my eyes and open the door to allow him to enter.
He sets the tray down on the coffee table before he turns to look at me. “I summoned you for dinner three times.”
“And as I just said, Your Highness, I’m not hungry. And I also don’t take well to being summoned, as long as we’re talking about it.”
His jaw clenches. “You’re a guest of the palace, Victoria. It’s expected—”
“I didn’t want to see your family, okay? I didn’t want to have any part of this…this…whatever it is you’re doing now that we aren’t calling it a pageant. I said I’d help you with the story, and I have…” I motion to the papers I have strewn about the floor where I’ve been sitting all day. “I’m done writing it. I just need to type it up.”
He stares at me before giving me a grim nod. “May I see the story?”
“I…” My shoulders drop and I give him a dejected nod. “Yes.” I walk over to grab the papers and thrust them at him. “Here. If you’ll give me another half an hour, I’ll have it typed up and sent to you. I—”
He stops me with a wave of his hand and turns to read what I’ve written.
I fold my arms over my chest and wait for him to finish.
It seems to take him forever to read through the papers, but he finally turns to me and frowns.
“You didn’t like it?” I shake my head. “I’m not redoing it. I think—”
“I think it’s one of the best pieces of journalism I’ve ever read, Victoria. It’s gracious, conciliatory, apologetic. It’s exactly what I need.”
“Then why are you frowning? Why do you look so pissed off?”
He shakes his head and sets the papers down on the sofa. He turns back to me, running his hand through his hair. “Do you know what I’ve been doing all day today?”
I shrug. “Arguing with your father?”
A small smile flashes across his lips before he
shakes his head again. “That’s a given these days. Besides that, I meant.”
“I have no idea, Andrew. And forgive me, but I don’t really want to speculate about what you might be doing in your free time.” An image of him sitting at the dinner table with Justine flashes through my mind. My chest aches at the thought of him touching her, smiling at her, laughing with her.
He sits down on the sofa next to where he’s set the papers and motions for me to sit across from him. “After another requisite tongue-lashing from my father, I spent my day at the Montovian City Academy. I—”
I hold up my hand, interrupting him. “I don’t care, Andrew. Just…just take your papers and go. Or leave them so I can type them up. I said I’d help you, and I’m trying to do that. But I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t hear about how your day was. I can’t watch you try to have a life. I mean, I want to do that, but I can’t.” I rub at the place in the middle of my chest where it feels like I’m being stabbed with a spear. “I wrote that…” I motion again at the papers on the sofa. “I wrote it and I cried. Then I wrote your speech and I cried. I don’t think anything I’ve ever written has made me cry. And I can’t do this anymore.”
“Victoria, sit down.” He motions again at the chair.
I let out a long breath, trying to get whatever is hitching in my chest out of there before I start sobbing again. “No.” I clutch the back of the chair. “I’m not going to sit down. I…I want you to go.”
He frowns and looks at the serving tray on the table. “I brought you some of the dessert I had the chef make tonight. It’s—”
“I told you, I’m not hungry. And I don’t want your damned leftovers, Andrew. I—”
He stands, interrupting. “I was at the Montovian City Academy inquiring about whether they might have a position for you. I thought perhaps you could teach English or maybe outdoor skills to the children there. I haven’t forgotten about the fire you started after our accident. Your Girl Scouts.” He frowns, raking a hand through his hair again. “I thought perhaps you could live in the city for a time. I could rent you a flat near the Academy, at least while things at the palace are in such an upheaval—”
