The Princess and the Player

by J Santiago

  “So, it’s me or Juliana?”

  “You simplify.” Lilian sat regally in her plush chair, placed her elbows on her desk, and clasped her hands together.

  “Sophie’s choice,” Ele mumbled.

  Here it was—the elusive test. Duty over self.

  If the queen deigned to roll her eyes, she would have. “This is about the preservation of our country, in a way that doesn’t involve violence or arrests.”

  “The public, in every part of our country, loved the thought of Tristan and me. It could help.”

  “A pop in public opinion, yes. A long-term solution to a problem that has plagued the monarchy for decades? No.”

  She dragged her eyes away from her grandmother and found Jamie’s. She’d expected contriteness, regret, begging. Instead, her twin’s gaze dared her. The boy she’d held through chemo, who she’d shored up after his illness, whose legacy she would preserve with the birth of her children, did not want her forgiveness or her capitulation. He challenged her to take what was hers, what she wanted, to be the girl he relied on to do what she needed.

  She wanted the chance to see what she and Tristan could be, but could she sacrifice her sister’s future for the possibility of hers?

  “It’s not your place to give me permission to feel what I feel or to approve of it. Quite frankly, I could leave all of this behind and thrive. I don’t need the palace, the money, the privilege. You need me far more than I need you.”

  “We do,” the queen concurred.

  She needed to be strong enough to take what she wanted. And in that moment, she realized she was. She would do the best thing for everyone. “I think there is another way. Rather than auction off me or Juliana for an advantageous marriage, we can—”

  The door behind her opened, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Juliana stood in the entryway, dressed for the night in a gold sheath that skimmed along her body like a second skin. Her hair was up, and rather than the dainty tiara Ele had chosen, Juliana wore a thick, diamond-encrusted headband. Her trademark freckles stood stark against the pale contrast of her skin.

  “I’ll do it,” Juliana said, her voice compelling and decisive.

  Everyone exchanged confused glances.

  Jamie recovered first. “Do what?”

  “Announce my engagement to Barrington tonight.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ele said. Standing, she made her way to Juliana, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the room. Ele reached out and closed the door behind them. Then, she stepped close to her sister. “Stop trying to save me. I’ve got this,” she whispered. And she did.

  She turned back to the queen. “If saving the kingdom is so important, why don’t you give the people what they want?”

  Lilian’s eyes narrowed. “And what is it they want?”

  Ele knew she was going down a treacherous road, but this was what she was meant to do. “Pass the crown to Jamie. Now.”

  Ele waited for the doors to fly open and for the Queen’s guard to haul her to the dungeon. Instead, there was only quiet acceptance. The queen heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in her chair. Ele tensed, waiting for someone to say something.

  “It won’t completely quell the secessionists, but yes, we are starting to put that plan into place.”

  Ele couldn’t believe her ears. She looked to Robert, who gave a brief nod, and then to Jamie, who looked a little green.

  Lilian rose and walked to the window, her back to the room. “It’s a concession, and it will help. But it won’t solve the problem, and it won’t be the end of it. The fanatics will still want their independence. But I suppose a union between you and your footballer might provide some distraction. Everyone loves a royal wedding.”

  “Uh …” Ele didn’t know how to respond to that, but she realized the idea didn’t scare her in the least.

  “We are playing the long game, I’m afraid,” said the queen. She turned back to them. “We are not going to solve this problem tonight. But it’s good to have the four of you together and to see how you all are so willing to sacrifice your own happiness for each other.” She locked eyes with each of them in turn. “Don’t forget to keep fighting for each other and for your legacy. It belongs to all of you.”

  Then, she walked forward and embraced Robert, Jamie, Juliana, and finally Ele. She grabbed Ele’s hands. “Now, we should probably make an appearance at our gala.”

  37

  8 December

  Tristan let himself into his flat and dropped his keys on the small table by the door. His duffel bag fell from his shoulder and somehow found its way into a nook, like he’d placed it there. Tiredness settled into his limbs. He loved playing for his country, and winning the World Championship Cup had been his every dream come true. But he was exhausted. It wasn’t the normal pre-December grind either. He’d been playing football for almost eighteen straight months. He wouldn’t have it any other way, but with the heavily scheduled month of December around the corner, his body felt every step. Tonight, the fatigue weighed thicker after watching Rowan sustain what could be a season-ending injury. The physios had been quiet about the extent of the damage, and Rowan’s mobile was defaulting to voice mail. Tristan’s worry for his friend and mentor added to his disquiet.

  Even with his fatigue and Rowan’s injury, a low-level hum was streaming through his blood. Ele was back. He wouldn’t get to see her anytime soon, but just knowing she was here, within touching distance, settled and unnerved him. No more time-zone calculations, less worry. She would hate to know he’d been concerned about her being alone. Even with Robert close, things could have happened. Tristan would rest easier tonight.

  Or perhaps not.

  Tonight was the Christmas gala, and she still hadn’t reached out to him. The longer her silence, the more likely the chance she was going to end things between them. He knew he’d messed up with that stupid photo, but he was relieved to finally have the conversation with her about the future. He’d been biding his time, looking for an opening. It wasn’t the best, but at least he had told her how he felt.

  Now, tonight, he’d have to wait until the photogs plastered her picture everywhere. He knew she was anxious to test herself with her interactions with the press, and he was happy to let her since it would benefit him. He longed to see her, and if the only way for it to happen was through impersonal pictures, he’d take it.

  After his shower, he put on some sweats and tried Rowan again. When he couldn’t get a response, he tried Caleb.

  “Anything, mate?”

  “No. Food?”

  Tristan glanced around his room and thought of sitting here all night, knowing that Ele was gracing the halls of the royal palace. “Yeah, let’s go.” He slid his feet into a pair of trainers and grabbed his keys. “The White Horse?”

  “Blowing the diet?”

  “Need a distraction.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Tristan nodded as if Caleb could see him. “I’ll be by in a bit.” He disconnected and slid his mobile into the pocket of his hoodie.

  He checked his wallet for cash and then left his room. In the kitchen, he pulled open a cabinet, grabbed a water bottle, and ambled to the faucet to fill it. When he turned to leave, he noticed something on his counter and stopped short. Propped up against a stack of mail he’d been neglecting was a shimmery gold envelope. The thickness of it and the embossed lettering indicated some kind of an invitation. He’d been distracted when he got home, but he couldn’t imagine missing it. He crept closer but did a visual sweep of his flat. Someone must have been there at some point.

  He reached for the envelope, plucking it from the counter. Unsealed, he lifted the flap. A royal-blue card peeked from beneath the golden edge. Pulling it out, he quickly read the gala invitation. He fought the urge to smile. The event started at seven o’clock, and it was already half past.

  “Wonder if the invitation comes with a fairy godmother,” he joked to himself.

  “No, just a bodyguard.
”

  Tristan’s heart thumped in his chest. He startled, his hand reflexively flying out in a defensive strike, sending the invitation flying across the room, as he jumped into the air. “What the actual fuck?”

  He turned to find Robert leaning casually against the doorjamb. Tristan wanted to punch him in the face for scaring the shit out of him, but then Robert smiled, and Tristan blinked in surprise.

  “You actually smile?”

  “When warranted.”

  “Scaring the piss out of me warrants it?”

  Robert’s smile grew wider, and the beginning of a dry chuckle sounded from him. “Aye.” He pushed away from the wall. “So, did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Piss yourself?”

  “About.”

  Another chuckle. Robert nodded at him. “I know you have formalwear. Go get dressed.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “When am I not? You think I came here because I missed you or something?”

  “I mean, I’m kinda hard to resist.” Tristan did his best rendition of his goal-scoring celebration.

  “Hmm,” was all the response offered.

  “Am I really supposed to show up to this gala tonight?” Tristan asked when Robert continued to stare at him.

  “You are.”

  “Who issued the invitation?” Tristan wanted it to have come from Ele. He wanted her to want him with her. Talking on the phone, being her friend across an ocean, was fine. But he wanted her to claim him publicly. He couldn’t remember a time when insecurity had plagued him. Yet he wasn’t completely sure where Ele stood on being with him as a couple. It was rather bothersome.

  “He did.” Robert nodded to the left.

  Tristan’s flat wasn’t ostentatious, but it wasn’t small. From the door, there was a direct line to the kitchen, where he was standing. To the right and left was one massive, open space with windows flanking the whole of the outside wall. Leaning up against the sill of the large window was Crown Prince James. Tristan looked back and forth between the two men.

  “A prince and a bodyguard walked into a flat …” he mumbled to himself.

  Robert must have heard him because he cocked a brow.

  Having regained some of his equilibrium, Tristan grabbed one of the barstools and turned it. He straddled the stool and crossed his arms along the top of the seat back. He met the stares of both men. “Why the royal escort?”

  James pushed away from the wall and marched forward. If it were Ele in front of him, he would have teased her about being in tiara mode. Crown Prince James was all business right now, but Tristan refused to be intimidated by it. It was hot when Ele got all princessy; it was irksome to watch her twin.

  “I …” Jamie paused and glanced at Robert. They shared some secret information. “We need to know your intentions.”

  The rush of confidence Tristan experienced before every match swept through him. He was twelve feet tall, fast as lightning, a football god. He didn’t appreciate the show of force—resented it in fact. Ele was completely capable of making her own choices and figuring out what she wanted. While he could understand their concerns, it felt like he’d just gotten clipped from behind by the last defender.

  Fucking red card.

  The taunting smile he’d perfected from years of goading other players spread across his face. But he didn’t say a word. Quiet possession was the natural enemy of provocation.

  The silence spread out.

  Jamie and Robert shared another look. Tristan watched with growing hilarity. Cracking the crown prince and the unflappable bodyguard brought him perverse pleasure. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered how important these two men were to Ele, and he discovered he was willing to suffer a hit to his pride to keep them on his side.

  “I absolutely appreciate the high-powered ambush—or the thought behind it. But Ele doesn’t need you to vet me for her. I thought maybe, over the three months, you would have learned how strong she is. She doesn’t need you to do this.”

  Jamie unbuttoned his suit coat and sat regally on Tristan’s large sectional sofa. Casually, he crossed his ankle onto his knee and leaned back. Tristan imagined him with a pint in one hand and a video game remote in the other. Supposedly, the prince was a champ at FIFA 17. Tristan would happily stomp his ass if given the chance.

  “While you were running around on the pitch, Ele was taking on the queen.”

  Tristan’s head tilted to the side, an involuntary tell of his interest. Questions popped into his head with rapid-fire quickness, but he didn’t say a word.

  “She might have relinquished her tiara.”

  Tristan considered it. “She wouldn’t do that. She takes her responsibilities seriously. Ele doesn’t divulge state secrets, but I know there are reasons she wouldn’t do that.”

  “Good thing,” Robert interjected from his space against the door. “Three hundred sixty ways to kill and all that.”

  Tristan’s lips quirked.

  “If Ele were just a girl, what would you be doing right now?”

  “Not sure I should share that with her brother,” he quipped. He just couldn’t help himself.

  Robert growled.

  “I’m kidding.” He laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

  He chanced a glance over in Robert’s direction and then back to Jamie’s. They were completely serious. He sensed their reluctant worry and sympathized. Even though Sheena would literally kick his ass if he ever interfered in her life like this, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to. And he had five younger sisters. He got it.

  He stood up from the stool and moved toward Jamie. Time. It was time.

  “The thing is, she’s not just a girl. She is an unbelievable woman who happens to be a princess. I know, on paper, I’m not the ideal candidate. I would probably embarrass the hell out of her at a formal dinner, and I can’t waltz for shit.”

  “Can dance with a ball pretty well,” Jamie commented.

  Tristan smiled. “There is that. We don’t make sense in any way. She hates being in the public eye, and I get high off of that shit. I live to be on a pitch, and I’m not sure she knows what an offsides call is. I’m from this loud, common family, and you all are library-quiet royalty. But I make her smile. And I make her feel safe. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Fuck yes. “I was willing to indulge you, but that needs to stay between Ele and me.”

  “He hasn’t worked up the bollocks to tell her yet,” Robert commented.

  “Why do you interject when I really don’t want you to?” Tristan asked him, annoyed.

  There was this tiny kernel of doubt in Tristan’s mind about Robert’s feelings for Ele. It was way more than a bodyguard, he was certain. And since Jamie was here as a witness, he figured it was the best time to tackle the Robert issue.

  He looked over to Robert. “You love her,” he stated simply.

  Jamie chuckled.

  “Aye.”

  “And not like a bodyguard.”

  “No. Not like a bodyguard.”

  Tristan’s stomach bottomed out. If she were given a choice, he wasn’t sure who Ele would choose. He knew Ele loved Robert too.

  “Put him out of his misery,” Jamie intoned.

  “Like my sister,” Robert said matter-of-factly.

  Not like a sister. “Like my sister.” There was an important pronoun in there.

  “Wait. You’re her brother?”

  “Half. Long story. Which I will tell you. On the way to the gala. We were late when we left the palace. Now, we are really late. Go get pretty.”

  Dazed, Tristan turned away and walked into his room. He shot a quick text to Caleb, canceling their plans, and tried Rowan once more. Then, he pulled his tux out of the closet and began to get dressed.

  He questioned the wisdom of surprising Ele. She’d been in the country for a week and not reached out to him. It was one of those niggling thoughts he’d put out of his mind
because it was crushing to think she might have returned home and decided seeing him was too much. They’d gone about their relationship backward—sex first, friendship second. But it didn’t diminish what was between them.

  But he knew his life was the opposite of what she wanted. She wanted small and private. He lived large and publicly. As much as he hated to admit it, he was a bit addicted to social media. He found himself reaching for his mobile often and captioning scenes in his head. But he was nothing if not adaptable. And for Ele, he’d do just about anything.

  He gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror. For thirty minutes’ notice, he looked smooth and ready.

  T-Dav at his finest. He captioned in his head.

  Damn, stop with the four-word limit on thoughts!

  He returned to the living room and the surly prince and stoic bodyguard. Or is it two princes? Shrugging off the thought, he said, “Ready?”

  Jamie looked away from Robert and nodded.

  The three of them stalked to the front door.

  “Need to post something before we go?” Robert asked with a hint of mirth in his tone.

  “No. I can go without captioning everything.”

  “I know. But admit it. You’re looking good, and you want to tell the world.”

  Tristan laughed good-naturedly. “Sure. But I’d rather tell them I’m going to find a princess.”

  Robert nodded. “Well, let’s go get your girl.”

  “Used to be ‘our’ girl,” Tristan observed.

  “Yeah. But she’s been yours since that first day at St. Peter’s.”

  “She definitely has,” Tristan said with a dreamy tone he wasn’t used to. He cleared his throat. “Does that mean you won’t be on her detail anymore?”

  “No. I’m leaving her in Michael’s capable hands.” He opened the door, and as Tristan walked out, he said, “And yours.”

  Tristan smiled bright. It was nice to have Robert’s blessing.

  “So, what will you do now?” Tristan asked as he slid into the Range Rover next to Jamie.

  “Your sister,” Robert quipped.

  At least, Tristan thought it was a quip.