by Peak, Renna
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Sophia tells me. “We usually eat around seven. I’m sure Nicholas will come and get you when it’s time.”
“Thanks again for the clothes,” I say.
“Just returning the favor.” She doesn’t quite manage to stifle a yawn as she closes the door behind me.
I follow Anabelle through the halls. I’m starting to think the people in this palace spend half the day just getting from place to place. And how do they not get lost? Every hallway looks the same.
A short while later, the maid stops at a door that looks just like Sophia’s. She somehow manages to balance her half of the clothes on one arm as she opens the door.
The suite on the other side makes me gasp. It’s just as beautiful as Sophia’s, with filigreed wallpaper and embroidered cushions and dainty little tables with gilded edges.
“I get to stay here?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yes, Miss Clara,” Anabelle replies. She carries the stack of clothes into the bedroom, and I follow.
The bed is huge, and translucent fabric curtains hang from the canopy. A big window on the far side of the room overlooks lush greenery below. But Anabelle heads straight for the closet, and I follow with my armful of Sophia’s clothes.
Someone has already been here and unpacked all the clothes I brought with me from Montana. Anabelle is just as efficient at her work. In no time at all—and with little help from me—she has everything hung and organized by formality. The closet could hold twenty times as many clothes, but there’s still far too much here for me to know what to do with. When we finally return to the bedroom, I notice a tray of tea sitting on the nightstand.
“Her Majesty thought you might like some refreshments,” Anabelle says, following my gaze. “There is some bread and cheese in the basket.” There’s also a small bowl of fruit.
“It looks great,” I say. “Tell her thank you.”
“Of course, Miss Clara,” Anabelle says, bobbing a curtsy. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not right now, thank you,” I tell her.
When she’s gone, I go straight to the big window in the bedroom and throw it open. I appear to be at the back of the palace, because all I can see in this direction is gardens—beds of rosebushes, shrubs shaped into perfect hedges, fountains and fishponds and statues of half-naked women. There are a handful of buildings, too. I wonder which one is the stable?
Right now, though, I’m too tired to speculate too much. I kick off my shoes and dive fully clothed onto the bed, burying my face in one of the plush feather pillows. This is heaven.
I’m not sure how long I lie there, dozing, before I hear a knock at the door.
I groan into the pillow, but as much as I’d like to nap, I probably shouldn’t ignore anyone who’s come to my door. I don’t really know all of the customs and etiquette here, and I’d hate to offend someone on my first day.
So I drag myself up off the bed and wander over to the main door of the suite. Hopefully whoever it is won’t be too offended by the fact that I’m barefoot and clearly half asleep.
To my surprise, I find Nick standing there. He’s wearing one of his usual, serious expressions.
“I hope you’re getting settled,” he says. “I came to tell you—”
I spring myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck.
“This place is wonderful!” I say. “I can’t believe your family lives like this.”
I fall back slightly, grinning up at him. He looks slightly stunned as I pull him into the room, but he doesn’t resist.
“I was just taking a nap,” I tell him. “Care to join me?”
He looks slightly taken aback by that request, the weirdo. But it takes him a moment to shake his head.
“Actually,” he says, “I came here to tell you something important.”
Nicholas
Clara smiles up at me. “Ooh. Sounds mysterious.” She pulls out of my arms. “What’s up?”
My brow furrows. I’m not sure why I expect her to understand—how could she? All the public knows of my family is the stories that appear in the press. It’s quite rare that anyone ever knows the truth of anything. We are all so good about smiling for the media—showing only our best side—when reality is so much more complicated.
“There’s nothing mysterious, I assure you.” I glance over my shoulder and look down the corridor in each direction before I look back at her. “May I enter?”
“May you enter…” She shakes her head, still smiling. “I’m never going to get over that accent, Nick.” She steps to the side and makes a sweeping gesture with her arm, motioning me in.
As soon as the door is closed behind us, I turn back to face her. “There’s a problem in Wintervale. My family—”
She interrupts by throwing her arms around me again, pressing her lips to mine.
My breath catches in my chest as my arms wrap around her waist. I kiss her back for a moment before I set her gently to the ground. “Clara—”
“Sorry.” She’s still smiling as she presses her lips together for a moment. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Considering the current tightness in my pants, it’s a surprise that I can help myself, but there’s too much to discuss to allow myself a moment of pleasure. Perhaps once things have settled in Wintervale, I can allow myself to fully relax.
“Have you seen this?” Clara rushes over to the window and motions for me to look outside.
I walk over to her, standing beside her at the window. There’s nothing below but my mother’s gardens. I turn to look into her eyes. “What am I looking for?”
“That.” She tilts her head toward the glass, motioning with her hands toward the grounds below. “Have you seen it from this angle?”
“Have I seen what?” I look again at the gardens below us, scouring for anything out of place, but I see nothing.
“The garden. It’s amazing!” She turns to look out the window again, her nose almost pressed against the glass. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like down there.” She grins up at me. “We should go down there.”
“I…” Everything I had wanted to tell her when I arrived at her suite falls out of my head, and the only thing I can seem to think about at the moment is pleasing her. I can’t even really remember why it is I came up here, other than to see her.
I nod. “Of course.” I extend my elbow to her, and she loops her arm through mine. “But we’ll have to ready ourselves for dinner in a short while. My father—”
“Keep talking to me, Nick.” She can’t seem to stop smiling as we make our way out the door. “You have no idea how awesome this is.”
“Awesome?” I shake my head. “I assure you, there is very little that is awesome about this place. Gruesome. Gruesome might be a more appropriate word.”
She shakes her head even as she looks around at every detail as we walk through the halls. We stop every few feet for her to take in the intricacies of the wallpaper or a picture frame.
“You don’t see it at all, do you?” She turns to me just as we’re about to exit one of the back doors. “How amazing this place is?”
I let out a long breath, blinking a few times. “Clara, I’ve lived here all my life. If you like, I can show you every bit of the palace and give you a more detailed tour than you’d ever want.”
She cocks her head. “I don’t think there could possibly be more details than I’d ever want.” She pulls on my elbow, and we walk outside and into the gardens.
Clara releases my arm as soon as we reach the outermost hedge, and she runs over to the area of the rose garden. I watch her as she moves from bush to bush, trailing her finger along the petals of the different varieties.
After many minutes, she finally returns to me. “There’s a maze over there. Can we do it?”
Her eyes have lit up again, and I know there’s no way I can deny her, though I’ve been through that maze so many times I could find my way through blindfolded and walking backwards.
I nod. “Of course. Whatever you wish.”
She claps her hands and jumps up and down a few times before she runs to the entrance.
I can’t help but smile as I follow her over. And I can’t honestly remember the last time I actually smiled while here at the palace.
Clara loops her arm through mine again and as we enter the maze. She seems to find great joy in taking wrong turns, leading us into loops where we end up where we started.
She finally turns to me, a wide grin on her lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just…for this.” She gulps and I can see her eyes shine as though tears have formed in them. “I…” She frowns and looks up at me again. “You were going to tell me something.”
“Was I?”
She nods. “Back in my room,” she says as she points skyward, though in the wrong direction as the palace.
“Right.” The joy I’d been feeling dissipates in an instant.
“Before you do…” She presses her lips in a line. “I just want to tell you I’m sorry.”
I frown, tilting my head. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about?”
“Everything. All of it. Adam. Coming to your ranch and ruining your life. You know, wrecking everything you ever wanted.”
I pull her into my arms. “It was only what I thought I wanted.”
She looks up into my eyes. “Really?”
I nod. “Really.” And though I can’t really speak the words, I know it’s true—I think I’ve found what I was looking for, and I’m holding her in my arms.
“You swear you’re not just saying that?”
I nod again. “I swear it upon my life.”
Her eyes flutter closed for a moment before she looks back up at me with a grin. “You have no idea what that accent does to me.”
“I think I might like to find out,” I say before my lips press against hers.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me toward her and kissing me back for a moment before she breaks away again. “You had something to tell me, Nick.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “I did.” I straighten, and her arms fall away from me though I’m still holding her in mine. “There’s an issue at one of my family’s estates. We’re going to have to leave the palace in the morning.”
Clara
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest. “Really? So soon?”
He nods solemnly. “We’re going to go back to Wintervale with my cousins. I know you’d probably like to spend more time here in the capital, but you’ll like the countryside, I assure you.”
“True,” I admit. I let my eyes roam across the flowers around us. “Are there gardens there, too?”
“Not quite as grand as these, but yes,” he tells me. “And grassy fields full of wildflowers, and forests, and there’s even a lake.”
“Oh, a lake,” I say, grinning. “How very fancy. I suppose there are swan-shaped rowboats?”
His nose wrinkles. “Even our cousins are hardly that tacky. There are rowboats, but they are most certainly the normal shape.”
“And horses?”
“I already promised you there would be,” he says. “And I’ve already arranged to have Pom and Prince arrive there eventually, too.”
“Well, okay then,” I say, beaming up at him. “Yes, I’m sad to leave the palace, but Wintervale sounds just as wonderful. I can’t wait to see it.”
He looks almost surprised by my excitement. “You aren’t angry?”
“Why would I be angry? A day at a palace is better than no time at all.” I take his hand in mine. “I’m just excited to see all of this. And to be here with you.”
That actually brings a couple spots of color to his cheeks, and I can’t help myself. While he’s already flustered, I free my hand from his and attack him, tickling him beneath the armpits.
He jerks away from me, but there’s a hedge at his back and he has nowhere to go. I take full advantage, continuing to tickle him as he clamps his mouth shut and tries not to make a sound.
I’m determined to get a laugh out of him no matter what it takes. I keep tickling him everywhere I can reach—his armpits, his sides, even around the base of his neck. With every touch of my fingers, I can see him losing a little bit more of his control, until finally he cracks.
His laughter is still one of the greatest sounds I’ve ever heard. I must let up my guard when I hear it, though, because as soon as his stops trying to repress his reaction, he manages to attack me back, his own hands suddenly moving all over my body, tickling me everywhere. Soon we’re both laughing and twisting around each other, tickling and blocking, nearly falling into the large hedge behind us. We’re so intent on each other that we don’t even hear the footsteps approaching.
“I’m sorry, are we interrupting something?”
Nick and I jump away from each other instinctively, even though I, for one, feel no shame for being caught tickling each other in the palace gardens. But I’m acutely aware that I’m a guest here, and that I’m in the presence of royalty, and my upbringing among New York society is still ingrained pretty deep. So I find myself hoping I look somewhat presentable as I turn to face the newcomer.
It’s actually three newcomers. Three men I don’t recognize, but who carry themselves like they’re important. All three are tall and broad-shouldered and would be considered by most people to fall somewhere on the spectrum between handsome and gorgeous.
One—the tallest of the group, though only by a little—has a quirk of a smile on his lips. I suspect he was the one who spoke. He has a jaw that looks like it could cut glass and thick reddish-blond hair that looks like it could become untamed at the slightest hint of a breeze. His eyes are a piercing blue, and they even look somewhat familiar, though it takes me a moment to realize why: they remind me of Nick’s eyes. These must be his cousins. In many ways, they look quite different from Nick—and the pictures I’ve seen of his brothers—but in other ways, the family connection is quite obvious.
The other two are each distinctive in their own way. One of them is slightly broader in the shoulders than the other two, and fit enough that I can see the muscles of his arms straining against the sleeves of his shirt. His hair is a sandy blond color—and he has a short beard to match—and though his blue eyes are slightly lighter than those of the other two, they’re just as piercing as those of the rest of his family.
The final cousin is perhaps the most startlingly handsome, and his wavy, nearly auburn hair looks perfectly unkempt. His dark blue eyes are bright with laughter, and with a piercing sort of intelligence that seems to see right through me. He carries himself with a confidence that puts the other two to shame.
But it’s the tall one who speaks again.
“And who is this, Cousin?” he asks, looking at me. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Nick has finally regained his composure. He doesn’t seem to notice that his shirt is still slightly askew as he steps forward.
“This is Clara Weaver,” he says. “I told you I’d be bringing a friend along to Wintervale.”
“So you did,” the red-blond man says. “But you never said your friend would be so beautiful.”
He takes a step toward me and takes my hand, bowing over my fingers. His smile is slightly crooked, but he’s no less handsome for it—if anything, that asymmetry makes him look even more charming.
“An honor to meet you, Ms. Weaver,” he says before brushing his lips against the back of my knuckles. “I’m Caspar.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I reply, wondering if I’m supposed to curtsy or something. Do you curtsy for royal cousins? Bow? I have no idea.
“And I’m Benedict,” says the one with the auburn hair, taking my hand from Caspar. His sparkling eyes never leave mine as he raises my hand to his lips. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Weaver.”
That leaves only the blond one, and if he isn’t as openly charming as the others, he still bows deeply over my hand.
“I’m Xavier,” he rumbles in a deep voice. “At your service.”
“Enough with this nonsense,” Nick says, practically tearing me away from the three of them. “Did you want something, or are you just trying to annoy me?”
Caspar’s eyebrows go up. “I apologize, Cousin. Did we do something to offend you?”
Benedict looks on the verge of laughter. “I think he doesn’t like us drooling over Ms. Weaver.” To Nick, he says, “Don’t worry, old chap—none of us would ever dream of seducing your woman away from you.”
“But she’s not his woman,” Caspar counters, looking just as amused. “I distinctly remember him introducing her as his ‘friend.’ A man makes no claims on his friends, does he? That means Ms. Weaver is free to be seduced as she wishes.”
My face is probably the same shade as the roses beside us. I imagine what’s going on here isn’t really about me—these sorts of familial disputes never are—but the more charming looks they keep flashing my way, the more I start to wonder.
I glance over at Nick. He looks like he’s barely restraining himself. His jaw is set, his fingers curled into fists at his side, but he says nothing. I imagine he’s trying with all his might to keep from saying or doing something he might regret.
And I’m not really sure what I can say or do to help him. Nick has my heart, but if he’s going around declaring me his “friend” to his family members, he probably won’t appreciate some soulful outburst about my feelings—right? But I also don’t want to offend his cousins—and our soon-to-be hosts—but shutting them down needlessly.
“You’re right,” I say finally. “I make my own choices.” That’s non-committal enough, I hope.
Caspar and Benedict exchange amused glances. Even Xavier has cracked a smile.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Caspar says. “Tell me, Ms. Weaver—would you honor me with a stroll about the gardens? If you’re to be our guest, I’d love to become better acquainted.”
