“I married you because of what transpired in the library, and to save your unsavory reputation.”
“But you knew it was not necessary...for the kingdoms.”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“So then...why? It was only my reputation that would have been tarnished. The papers blamed me for seducing you—you could have come away unscathed.”
Finn squinted into the trees over Brinley’s shoulder, and she couldn’t say for certain if the pink staining his cheeks was cold or embarrassment. “Do you remember the story I told you about my tutor?” he asked finally. “And the charm bracelet?”
“Yes, of course. It was one of the nine words you’ve said to me.”
“I have never known the best way to approach things. To approach...women.”
Brinley scoffed. “I beg to differ.”
“And so that night I came here with my father, I did not know how to...behave. How to cope with the thought that it might be the last time I saw you. That there would be no more excuses to visit, to cross paths, to be near you. So...”
“You wed me?”
“Yes.”
“That seems extreme.”
“Yes. Most definitely. But also right. In its own wrong way. Much like my wife, if you think about it.”
“You could have just told me you wished to see me.”
“I am telling you now.”
“Finn.”
“Brinley,” he said firmly. “I have adored you since the day you nearly stabbed out my eye when I taught you to wield a sword. No one else has ever compared. No matter how many checklists they sell instructing women to be the ‘perfect’ princess, there has only ever been one princess I wanted for myself. Your behavior is, at times, absolutely dreadful, but with you I am never bored, and I love you very much because of it.”
She knew her mouth was hanging open, but she could not seem to close it.
“You—I—Really?”
He scuffed his foot on the snow. “Yes, absolutely. I agree with very little your sister says, but I strongly support her suggestion that you never change. You are perfect just as you are. Mostly. You are still crap with swords.”
“I am very good with swords.”
“And now you may tell me you adore me too, or put me out of my misery and send me into the woods, where Elle is likely waiting to run me down with that machine.”
“I have loved you since I was five, Finn. I did not think I could ever stop, even when I believed you would never be mine.”
“Do you believe it now?” he asked.
She glanced at the bag at his feet, everything he brought with him in one black duffel, everything else he was willing to leave behind. For her. Not her title or her land or the opportunities she might bring, but her.
“Yes,” she said. “I believe it.”
“Good.” He stepped over the bag and gripped her cheeks in his gloved hands, kissing her with all the passion she knew hid behind his stoic exterior. She had been cold but now she was warm; she had been alone but now she was not. Nothing had developed the way it was expected, but she had never been very good at meeting people’s expectations anyway.
At long last Finn released her and cleared his throat, leaving Brinley on wobbly legs. “Very well,” he said. “It will not be overlong before they begin to wonder where we are. If you wish to go back, we should go now. And if you wish to flee, we should run.”
“Let’s go back,” Brinley said. “And see what happens.”
“As you wish.” Finn turned to pull open the heavy door, and Brinley retrieved her lantern before stepping through.
“How did you find me?” she asked as they lowered the latches, grunting as they forced them back into place.
“Tracking device,” he replied. “Inserted under your skin.”
“I still cannot tell when you are joking.”
“I’m joking. I told you I have studied the castle maps for years. I was aware of this rumored route, and when I woke and you and your lantern were gone, I checked the dungeon and found it empty, then went to the textiles collection room hallway and kicked every brick until I found it.”
“That is a lot of work.”
“Yes, well, I never imagined that being married to you would be easy.”
They started to walk, winding back through the cold, damp passageway, between walls and floors and ceilings of history and expectations, some met and some not. Finn took her hand, holding on through the slippery portions, the steep parts, the narrow bits that forced them to walk single file. He stayed at her back and at her side, marching ever upward, never once faltering in his steadfastness. His actions spoke far louder than any words, though he was quite good at those too, when he wanted to be.
They were breathing hard when they reached the top, and Brinley unzipped her coat and removed her wool hat as Finn did the same. Faint noises came from the other side of the wall, castle staff, most likely, and Brinley knew that if she opened the door now they would spot her and the tunnel would be filled and she would never again be able to use it as an escape route.
She felt around with the toe of her boot, located the right brick to open the door, then mustered her courage. As she prepared to swing back her leg, Finn stopped her. “You’re sure?” he asked. “You’re ready for this?”
Brinley smiled. Not the good and gracious smile of her mother and her sister, of Queen Cecille and Princess Ilona, of all the well-behaved women who had come before, but her own smile, crooked and genuine.
“I was born ready,” she said, then kicked as hard as she could.
THANK YOU!
Thank you so much for reading Bad Princess. I hope you love it as much as I do. People always ask where my book ideas come from, and this one came in the form of a title one random day earlier this year. Bad Princess. Since I had a long list of other tasks I was looking to avoid, I immediately thought, “I should drop everything and write this.” So I did.
How did I do that?
Step one: Try to pick a princess name. Stare at wall. Wait for inspiration. Go to those baby naming websites and look up names that mean princess. Pick two so your princess’s name secretly means Princess Princess Princess. Laugh manically at your private brilliance.
Step two: Find a prince. My inspiration for Finn is Mark Darcy in the first Bridget Jones book, the moment he tells Bridget he likes her just the way she is. Is there a more romantic, wonderful sentiment anywhere in existence? Plus, I once stood next to Colin Firth in an HMV. Best day ever! So that’s where Finn came from. He’s stiff and formal and truly, utterly, kind.
Step three: Write book. Not as easy as steps one and two, but definitely fun and rewarding. (Mostly.)
Step four: Publish and hope people read it. (Okay, there are some other steps in there, but I won’t bore you with the details.)
If you’ve made it this far, thank you again! And if you enjoyed the story and can make it just a little further, I’d be very grateful if you would leave a review on Goodreads or wherever you bought the book. Positive or negative, reviews help other readers find my work and I appreciate them all.
If you would like to know when my next book is available, you can sign up for my newsletter at www.juliannakeyes.com/newsletter.html.
You can also find or follow me on the following pages:
www.juliannakeyes.com
http://facebook.com/juliannakeyesauthor
https://twitter.com/JuliannaKeyes
Email: [email protected]
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Enormous (and repetitive) thanks to Natalie Perret for her support and eagle-eyed willingness to read my books and point out all my mistakes. I’d rather hear it from you than the internet.
MORE EMBARRASSINGLY enthusiastic thanks to Khoi Le for helping make these covers look like I didn’t make them myself.
THANK YOU TO KATE BRAUNING for helping to transform my amorphous blob of back cover copy into something that sounds like a story. Your editing and encouragement was p
riceless!
AND FINALLY, HUGE THANKS to everyone who helped me choose a cover direction. Whether you voted on Facebook, Twitter, or email, your participation and opinions meant so much to me. Writing is a solitary game, and the opportunity to hear from you was really fun and valuable. I hope you enjoy the final product as much as I do.
BOOKS BY JULIANNA KEYES
New Adult
My Roommate’s Girl
BURNHAM COLLEGE SERIES
Undecided
Undeclared
Contemporary Romance
Just Once
Going the Distance
TIME SERVED SERIES
Time Served
In Her Defense
The Good Fight
ABOUT JULIANNA KEYES
JULIANNA KEYES IS A Canadian writer who has lived on both coasts and several places in between. She’s been skydiving, bungee jumping and white water rafting, but nothing thrills—or terrifies—her as much as the blank page. She loves Chinese food, foreign languages, baseball and television, though not necessarily in that order, and writes sizzling stories with strong characters, plenty of conflict, and lots of making up.
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