His chest burned with cold fire beneath the secret he kept there. What was I thinking? Of course she’d leave. No one would stay for this—this life of constant scrutiny. He himself didn’t want it, and he’d been born to it. Why on earth had he thought he could ask her to live it with him?
He straightened, feeling the cold finality of her decision like a slap, and forced his voice to be calm. “Of course, Emmaline. Dimitri and Stefan will ensure the safety of you and your friends.”
She blinked, some of the color returning to her cheeks as she looked back at him. Still, he didn’t want to hear her apologies, if indeed she was about to give them. He couldn’t. Like a battle that couldn’t be won, some things were better off being forgotten.
“Kristos—”
He drowned out her response with the memorized rhetoric of the speeches he was still expected to make tonight. The first of a hundred thousand speeches, he had no doubt, to cover over the emptiness in his heart until he could finally break free from this castle once more. He’d been a fool to think he might find a path forward as the crown prince.
He had only one path, and he needed to find a way to reclaim it. Alone.
Emmaline took a step forward, then stopped short as he bowed to her with excruciating politeness.
“Good evening, Emmaline,” he said, not even recognizing his own voice. “Godspeed to wherever your travels take you.”
Chapter 20
“Where did the captions go?”
Turning from the sound of Kristos’s fading footsteps, Em glared at the screens, willing herself not to cry. Her words seemed sucked away by the enormity of the images flashing across the screen in front of her, the closed-caption translations having somehow disappeared. Pictures of her mother and father in their younger years, herself in her concert uniforms, bending seriously over her violin. They looked like benign pictures, positive pictures, but why were they being flashed across the screen at all, and what—
“What are they saying! Turn that up!” she demanded, uncaring that she sounded coarse, common, unwilling to look away as a new caption flashed up again on the screen below a sleekly blonde woman and her metrosexual counterpart, both of them looking serious and vaguely sad. The translator apparently was attempting to interpret the slightly slurred voice that now came streaming over the speakers of the conference room, as light as feathers falling in the breeze and so, so sweet.
“She always loved to read about princes.”
Those were the words she heard, in her mother’s voice, but her ears had grown used to interpreting the stops and starts, the broken whispers. The drifting voice that now made Dr. Honor Andrews sound so different to anyone else. Anyone who wasn’t Em and her father. Because clearly, these were not the words the media station had heard. Below her mother’s face, the caption read: “She always wanted to be a princess.”
As the real voice of her mother finally assaulted her, she could hear every defect, see the images of her mother’s slack face from the local newspaper coverage of the brave recovery of the local professor, a story that barely anyone had seen when the accident had first happened, but now…
“She’s worked so hard,” her mother said, the words so frail, so fragile. After that, she said something else that not even Em could decipher, but her statement ended once more with: “…a princess.”
Given that those words could have been interpreted any way possible, the station went in for the kill, and the words “She’ll stop at nothing to be a princess” flickered to life beneath her mother’s face.
Em put her hand to her mouth, taking a step back as telecasters then flashed to images of Em getting out of the SUV that had taken them to the ball earlier tonight, her beautiful dress shimmering around her like a dream come true, her face beaming, juxtaposed against the heart-wrenching picture and fractured breathing of her mother.
My God. The woman on the screen—her—with her laughing eyes and perfectly styled hair… She was horrifying. She was leaving her mother behind to be cared for by hired help while she ran across the globe and tried to throw herself into some unsuspecting prince’s arms, all for a chance at becoming something she was never meant to be.
“Why is she doing it?” the serious blonde asked her grim counterpart. “Who could do such a thing? Abandon her parents to go play at being princess. Does she really think she’s going to land her prince? And then what? Where will the riches of Garronia go? To help care for Emmaline Andrews’s parents so she doesn’t have to, or into her own pockets?”
Em backed up another step, sharply.
“Only she can tell us.” The male part of the duo turned to the camera. Somber. Sad. But with a hard glint to his eye as well, as if here was the news that the people needed to know. “And yet the Gold Digger Princess once again isn’t talking. Royal spokespeople confirm only that—”
“What the hell! Turn that off! Turn that off now!”
There was a flurry of silks and rushing feet, then Em felt arms around her, pulling her back, turning her forcibly away from the screens as the pictures flickered. But she’d seen it all already. This was only the leading tide of newscasts, and they weren’t even the American ones.
“I’m a monster,” she said, and her vision swam as Lauren stood directly in front of her, her hands on her shoulders.
“You’re the least monstrous person I know, Emmaline.” Her words were sharp. “The story had died, and the media secretary here had done too good a job burying it. Am I right?” she demanded of someone over Em’s shoulders, but Em was too sick to look. “But you can’t just cut something off like that. That’s not how it works. All the parades of the local women were great, but they were boring. They should have leaked something about our next location, or—”
A snort of derision that sounded too close to them went a long way toward calming Em’s nerves. Dimitri stood watch beside her now, scowling at Lauren, but it was Stefan who spoke.
“The effect of stoppering the story completely versus an approach that would have simply let a little air out? Worthy of consideration, but ultimately not any more likely to succeed. The story was going to die or it was going to explode. It was a fifty-fifty chance no matter which way we allowed it to play out.”
Em blinked at him. “You knew that? You knew this might happen tonight, and you still let us go in front of everyone like we did? Waving and laughing like we didn’t have a care in the world, when my parents—my God, my dad. I have to call my dad!”
“I’ve already texted the nurse. She’ll stay on-site for the next few days.” Nicki’s voice cut into Em’s scrambling thoughts, and she held up Lauren’s phone. “She’s worked with Lauren before, and it’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened. She knows how to handle the media.”
Em’s gaze swung back to Lauren, who shrugged. “You get used to it. It sucks, but you get used to it.”
“And give your parents some credit, Em,” Nicki said. “They aren’t exactly fans of E! or whatever shows would carry this crap.”
“Not only E!, unfortunately.” Fran was at the computer set up at the base of the monitors, her fingers racing over the keyboard. Stefan immediately stepped toward her.
“You don’t have access—”
“Just hitting the Internet, don’t get your tights in a twist.” Fran scowled at the screen. “The story’s been cooking since about noon our time, looks like, gathering up a head of steam. It’s been picked up by the Guardian in Britain, which will pick up anything that’s bleeding, but it hasn’t hit the AP yet.”
“The AP!” Em felt what was left of the blood in her face drain away. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’d like to say I was, but it all depends on the current news cycle. If it’s a slow day, this will definitely get noticed. Gowns and crowns are always an attraction.” She frowned, her gaze tracking the scrolling information. “Unfortunately, where it’s hit is bad enough. The Guardian has a direct feed into most of the tabloid sites in the US.”
�
�This is insane.” Em turned to Stefan. She already felt terrible for how she’d treated Kristos, but she’d been so horrified at the implications. Princess Gold Digger. Who’d even come up with that? Far better for her to just leave and stop the damage altogether. “There’s no fallout for the royal family, is there?”
Lauren groaned. “Like that should be your concern.”
“I’m serious,” she said, forcing Stefan to turn his attention to her instead of continuing to scowl at Frannie, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she pulled up various search engines. “This newest round of stories, what is the net effect?”
“None, not in any lasting sense.” Stefan shook his head. “The queen, or more likely the king and Kristos, will make a statement exonerating you of any intent, malicious or otherwise. It’s not necessary, but—”
“Not necessary.” Em stared at him, his callous tone grounding her further, yet swinging her right back into anger. “My parents are on TV. My mother’s voice was played on international media. She’s a respected historical scholar, and they made her sound like an imbecile!”
“And so the royal family will almost certainly make a statement about their shock and dismay over the entire situation, their plea for the media to report news and not gossip, and their deep apologies to you and your family.” Stefan spoke the words as if he was checking off items from a PR list instead of discussing the defamation and embarrassment of Em’s family on a global scale. “Once you’ve left Garronia and the ordinary state schedule is resumed, the story will be replaced.”
“That’s what everyone said before, and that didn’t work out so well.” Em waved her hand at the now-quiet screens. She glanced to Nicki and Fran, bent over the computer, and another flush swept through her. “This is going to be on the Internet forever. You realize that, right? After your royal celebrations are concluded and the prince gets married or whatever, I’m still going to be the one who goes online and gets to see my name splashed across the web as ‘Princess Gold Digger.’ And forget me and my stupid problems. Forget that every time I apply for a job or audition for an orchestra, I’m going to be looked at with curiosity. Forget that my association with you has resulted in an entire lifetime of whispers and punch lines and probably memes, for all I know. That’s all beside the point. My mom was brought into this. And even if she’s not the queen of Garronia, she’s still my mother. And I’ve brought nothing but shame to her.”
“Stop being melodramatic,” Stefan said, his tone harsh enough that Nicki and Fran looked up from their computer, and Lauren sucked in a startled breath. Em took a step back in the face of his sudden, sharp irritation. “You’ve provided assistance to your parents for the past year and more, dropping out of college, deferring your scholarship. It’s due, isn’t it? And you’re not going back, I suspect.” He scowled at her, then moved on. “You’re making your living now not by performing at one of your country’s most revered orchestras but by teaching lessons to the children of your local school. Your parents are not idiots, Miss Andrews, to care about any of this. They will treat this situation for what it is and so should you and any future employers you seek. It is not a situation of your making.”
But Em had stopped listening as the realization behind his words struck her. She stared at Stefan’s cold aristocratic face openmouthed, knowing she was gaping, knowing that she probably looked the fool. But she no longer cared about that. No longer cared about anything.
“How did you know all that?”
But even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Of course she knew the answer. Kristos had probably been given an entire file cabinet of information on her before she’d ever shown up at the Visitors’ Palace that first afternoon. Their entire two-day “escape” probably had been vetted and approved as the least distasteful option to contain the story about her. And all the media coverage that had been generated had been carefully manipulated to the advantage of the royal family, since the very first photos had been taken.
She felt beyond exposed, beyond vulnerable.
She felt betrayed.
“I want out of here,” she said, her voice gaining strength with each new word. “Now.”
Kristos sagged slightly as the last of the guests left after lingering in the Great Hall for far too long. His mother looked almost as haggard as he did, at least when she thought no one was looking at her. His father also had become increasingly taciturn as the guests had somehow seemed to thwart their every attempt to end the evening.
But now they were alone, and he turned immediately to the far doors. He’d lasted over an hour here after leaving Emmaline, and he’d spent that time laughing—talking. Clapping people on the back. No one would know that his hands were nearly shaking with fury. No one could know that. He’d sent word to Stefan for reports, but nothing had come of that yet, much to his increasing irritation.
He nodded to his parents. It was far past time he—
“Kristos.”
The king’s voice carried the sharp crack of authority, underscoring his position not only as king but as father. It was the only reason Kristos stopped in his tracks.
“There’s been another media surge. I am needed—”
“I know about what has been aired about Emmaline. It’s out of your hands now.”
That drew him up short. “What do you mean, out of my hands?”
Jasen drew a tired hand over his eyes. “You have to learn to think strategically, Kristos. You could have predicted that this was one of the paths the media might take after you’d read Emmaline’s dossier.”
“Her what?” Kristos shook his head. “I never read her dossier.”
The king’s raised brows were the only indication of his disappointment in that revelation, and he pushed on. “Her family is in debt. Significant debt. Emmaline may not have known it originally, but there was a reason why she needed to get a scholarship to pursue her studies. When her parents both left their jobs abruptly in the wake of the accident, their insurance covered only so much. Her father tapped any accounts he could find to pay for their care. Now their credit is compromised. Anyone with rudimentary skills of observation could see that, and suddenly here’s a young woman halfway across the world, kissing a prince. It’s not a difficult leap.”
Kristos could only stare. “You knew about this story, that they were going to take this angle? You knew it was brewing and yet you let Emmaline show up and wave at the cameras?”
“No.” It was his mother who spoke now, her voice cutting sharply across the conversation. “We didn’t know they were going to stoop this low. We should have guessed, but we didn’t know. The first broadcasts were only brought to our attention at the onset of the gala. The damage had been done. There was no point in changing course once everyone was inside.”
“But she is being vilified,” Kristos gritted out. “Surely we could have stopped that from happening.” He knew his anger was mostly directed at himself, but that didn’t help matters. He could have stopped it from happening, yes. But he hadn’t wanted to. In his selfish need to put his own life on hold, he’d compromised Emmaline’s. Again and again.
His father shook his head. “When the media take hold of a story, it’s no longer yours to change. It’s not something one person can do. I’m sorry, but this is part of being a member of a public family that you are going to have to learn to accept and endure, or simply stay out of the limelight altogether.”
Kristos bristled. Hadn’t he just said as much to Emmaline? Hypocrite. “She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t do anything wrong except run into me.”
“Technically, it was the other way around.” His mother’s gaze was gentle, but still intent upon him, as if she was trying to see things that weren’t there anymore. Could never be there. The weight in his chest seemed to grow, dragging him down.
“That is exactly my point. At every turn, I have brought her under more and more scrutiny—the Visitors’ Palace—the chateau—the castle. She was living her life very well before I
happened to her, and now she’s a virtual prisoner behind these walls.”
“Not a prisoner anymore.”
Kristos turned, his fury stoked even higher to see Stefan’s cold face as his older cousin sauntered into the room. “What are you doing here? I asked you to protect Emmaline and her friends.”
“And we have.” He nodded to Dimitri, who stood stiffly at his side. The bodyguard’s face was also a mask of cool civility, but something dark and fierce swirled beneath it, something barely able to be contained. “They’ll stay at the Hotel Garronia tonight, and leave tomorrow for the airport. Given the additional scrutiny, I’ve arranged for a charter flight to Galileo Galilei, then private transport to their villa in Tuscany.”
“At the Hotel—are you insane! We’ve already seen how inadequate their security is. That’s unacceptable.”
Stefan didn’t honor this with a response. He looked to the queen. “They left behind their gowns and completely understand if you cannot ship them—”
“Of course we’ll ship them,” his mother said, waving tiredly. “I’ll have an aide make arrangements for cleaning and transport. It’s not as if we don’t have their addresses.”
Her words galvanized Kristos once again. “They figured it out, didn’t they? Emmaline did, most certainly.” He glared at Stefan, who stared back at him, unconcerned. “She found out about our dossier on her. That was the final straw.”
“She made an educated guess that I did not dispute.” Stefan shrugged. “What did you think was going to happen, exactly, when the curtain came down on the charade you were playing with the woman?”
“Charade!”
“Stefan.” King Jasen’s tone held a warning, but Stefan’s eyes were flinty as he glared back at Kristos.
“She’s an American with an brain-damaged mother and a clinically depressed father who’s barely able to bring himself back from the edge of ruining her entire family, after an accident he believes he could have avoided. You can’t expect to swoop in and carry her along the tide of your largesse and expect she won’t be changed by it in the aftermath. You made her into an overnight sensation with your juvenile posturing and swagger, and, like it or not, she is going to be the one to pay the price for that.”
Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 Page 22
