by Renna Peak
She takes a very long time to speak, and when she does, her words are slow, almost hesitant.
“And you thought the best way to fix this supposed ‘distance’ between us was to postpone the wedding?”
“Not the best way, per se, but given the circumstances—”
“And you decided the best course of action was to make this decision without consulting me, the person marrying you? And to discuss it with your mother before discussing it with me?”
Her question catches me off guard. “I… No, that wasn’t my intention—”
“Your intention doesn’t matter—not when your actions are so clear. When, exactly, did you plan on telling me about your decision?”
“I’ve told you just now,” I protest, feeling my temper rising in response to my shame. She’s right, I should have gone to her first—but that doesn’t mean I deserve to be attacked like this! “I’m just trying to do the right thing for everyone.”
“And you think the right thing is postponing the wedding?” Her voice has suddenly gone very quiet, and she’s refusing to look at me. “I know we have some things to talk about, but that’s why I came here—to talk about them. Not to put off our wedding.”
“Victoria…” I reach for her, but she turns away from me. Before she does, though, I see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
“But maybe you’re right,” she says. “Maybe we have some things we need to figure out before we get married. Clearly we’re not on the same page about some important things like joint decision-making. You should go talk to your mother about our options for postponement.”
“Victoria—”
“I mean it. Maybe this is for the best.”
“No.”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “No?”
“No. Either we go to her together or I don’t go at all. But before we do anything else, I want to know what you came here to tell me.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not important now.”
“On the contrary, I think it’s extremely important.” I cross my arms. “If you don’t want to tell me yet, then that’s your decision—but then I don’t see any other option than to put off this wedding. Because I’m not sure we should marry if you don’t trust me.”
“Is that an ultimatum?”
“No. I think it’s a very reasonable request. If you want us to be on the same page, then it starts with this. Tell me—what is it you’ve been hiding from me? You say you aren’t having second thoughts—”
“I’m not.”
“Then what is it? Tell me, Victoria.”
She doesn’t answer me, just stares up at me with wide, wet eyes.
“Tell me,” I press her. “Or we have bigger issues to discuss.”
Victoria
I can’t believe he’s still acting like this after all this time. Maybe he’s right about putting the wedding off, but not for the reasons he’s spewing. Maybe we should just cancel it altogether.
I square my shoulders, lifting my chin and trying desperately to keep myself from crying again in his presence. “We can just cancel the entire thing. Why bother postponing it? It’s obvious you aren’t willing to treat me as your equal.”
He blinks at me a few times before his shoulders drop. “If you would just talk to me—”
“And when am I supposed to do that, exactly? I’ve barely seen you in the past two months.”
“Nor I you.”
“And who’s brilliant decision was that, Andrew? Not mine.” I shake my head. “You still don’t get it, do you? We’ve gone right back to where we were when we started. You see me as less than you—a commoner who isn’t worthy—”
“If that were true, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you in the first place.” His gaze bores into mine. “You don’t trust me. That’s what this boils down to. You want to project your blame onto me, but—”
“So you blame me? Because you’ve been so busy the past few months? I don’t know what I have to do to get your attention anymore, Andrew. I could turn cartwheels naked on the lawn, and you still wouldn’t notice—”
“The entire kingdom would notice if you were to do that. And I’d beg you not to.” There’s not even a bit of amusement in his expression. “You don’t need to do anything to get me to notice you.”
“Well, that is clearly a lie.” My shoulders finally drop, defeated. “We should go and tell your mother that this is over. We don’t need to bother with trying to reschedule the damn thing. I’m really just…tired of this.”
His gaze narrows and he glares at me for a long moment. “Is that truly what you want?”
My heart twists in my chest. Of course it isn’t what I want. But it must be what he wants. He isn’t even fighting for this wedding. For us.
I draw in a long breath, trying to control the flood of emotions I know is going to hit me as soon as I say the word. “Yes.”
He shakes his head slowly, still staring at me. “Fine. I’ll tell my mother. You can pack your things.”
“Fine.” Oddly, I don’t start to cry. My heart is still twisted around itself, but other than that I feel…numb. “I’ll stay in a hotel until the flights start running again.”
Andrew works his jaw for a moment, still staring at me. “You’ll stay here until we figure out how we’re going to handle the publicity nightmare that’s sure to follow you wherever you decide to go.”
“Oh, you care about my publicity nightmare, do you? You’ll stay holed up in the palace, so what do you care?” I glance over my shoulder, though there’s no one there. “I’m one of them, remember?”
“Why do we have to continually have this fight? Why can’t you just trust me?”
“I do trust you, Andrew.” I shake my head. “That isn’t what we’re fighting about.”
“The hell it isn’t.” He rubs at his jaw. “But you believe we’re fighting about me not treating you as my partner.”
“Bingo.” I glare up at him. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m second class.”
“I’ve never…” He lets out another breath, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. He finally lifts his chin and his gaze meets mine again. “I’m better than I used to be.”
“I wish that were true.”
“Do you really…?” He presses his lips together, shaking his head. “Do you really want to cancel the wedding?”
No. I want nothing more than to marry the man standing in front of me. But part of me wonders if he’ll ever honestly consider me his equal. “I need to think, Andrew. I just…don’t know.”
His eyes cloud, and he nods to himself as he rubs at his jaw. “Okay. We should go and tell my mother. Together.”
“Fine.”
He motions at the door, and we leave the room, walking to his mother’s suite in silence. He doesn’t even attempt to touch me or talk to me—he just shakes his head every so often, rubbing the side of his face.
We finally reach her office, and he knocks before we enter.
Queen Penelope is sitting behind her writing desk, and she stands as soon as we come in, giving us her usual huge smile. “Come in, come in.” She motions for us to sit in the chairs in front of her desk. “I was just finishing up some of the seating arrangements for the main reception. One forgets how difficult these things are—we can’t have certain members of the family sitting anywhere in the vicinity of others, you know.”
I try to give her a smile, but I’m sure my effort is weak.
Andrew lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping. “Mother, we’ve decided to cancel the wedding.”
She looks back down at her desk, making a note on one of the papers she’s working on. It takes her a moment to look up at him, her gaze turning from her son’s to mine. Her smile never falls, though. “Ah, I was wondering when you two would be in here telling me this.” She chuckles and shakes her head, dropping her gaze back to her work.
“Mother, this isn’t a joke. We…” Andrew glances at me for a sec
ond. “We’re incompatible. That much is obvious.”
“Oh, yes…” She laughs, shaking her head but not lifting her attention from the seating chart. “Yes, that’s completely obvious.” The bite of sarcasm in her voice is clear.
“Mother…” Andrew shakes his head, almost as though he can’t believe what’s happening. He lets out a frustrated breath. “Mother.”
“What is it, Andrew?” She finally lifts her gaze, the smile gone from her face. “I knew this was going to happen, but I suspected it would have happened a few weeks ago.” She lets out a huff. “Let’s see, where to start?” She stares at her son. “You’ve been ignoring her. You’ve been busy, of course. But I’m not sure what you were trying to achieve. Modesty before your wedding?” She shakes her head sharply at him. “I don’t disagree with your reasoning, but your fiancée needs your support right now—your attention. Not your misguided attempts to do the right thing in the eyes of…whomever it is you’re doing it for. Your people? I don’t know.” She shakes her head again at him before turning her gaze to mine. “And you’re keeping secrets from your husband-to-be. Believe me, I would have known if I’d sent you to Berlin to make any arrangements for this wedding.”
Andrew turns to me with a glare. “You weren’t in Berlin?”
My cheeks burn like fire, and I press my lips together, still staring at the queen.
Her gaze drops back to her work. “I’m not sure what else I need to do here. But we’re not canceling this wedding. Even if Leopold is stuck in Barcelona for the next month, we are not canceling your wedding. It was kind of you to invite your brother and Elle to be part of it, but make no mistake…this is the wedding of the future king of Montovia. It is not going to be canceled. It is not going to be postponed.”
She looks up, her gaze sliding between the two of us. “You’ll figure it out, hopefully before you take your vows.”
“Where were you?” Andrew’s voice is a low growl. “Where were you?”
I lift my chin before turning my gaze to his. “I went to London. And then I went to Paris.”
His jaw is trembling, he’s clenching it so tightly. “To do what, exactly?”
I thought I would feel sick when this moment came, but I still feel oddly calm. Maybe it’s the presence of Penelope, or maybe I’m more okay with the news than I thought.
I blink at him a few times before letting out a long breath. “I was working on your wedding gift.”
His mother and I both jump when he slams his fist onto her desk. “You’re lying!” It takes him a second, but he calms himself after looking at the stunned reaction of his mother. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not lying, Andrew.” I steel myself again, knowing that I’ll probably lose it as soon as I say the actual words to him. “I saw two fertility doctors and I had a small procedure done while I was in Paris. That’s what I was doing. That was going to be your wedding gift.”
Leopold
“We have to do something, Matthias,” I say. “I can’t sit here any longer.”
The wedding is four days away, and I’m beyond restless at this point. The snows in Central Europe have yet to let up, and my pilot has informed me that even if he could find an open airstrip in Montovia, it would be suicide to attempt to fly in. Many of the major roads are closed, too. I can’t even get a train—apparently many of the tracks near the heart of the storm are having issues with ice.
At this rate, I’ll miss my own damn wedding.
Matthias has done what he can. Like me, he’s spent much of the last couple of days investigating our options. And like me, he’s come up empty-handed. No one wants to face this storm to get us back to Montovia, no matter how much money we try to throw at them.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, rubbing my forehead. I thought I was doing Elle a favor by going to bring her brother to the wedding. Now, I’m afraid she may kill me.
“We’ll figure something out, Your Highness,” Matthias says. But even he doesn’t sound particularly hopeful.
I bark a laugh. “If I start walking now, maybe I’ll make it there by next week. I should be able to handle a little snow.”
“Perhaps, Your Highness.”
“Don’t sound so confident in my abilities, Matthias. You’re going to give me a big head.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out flat. “I just have no idea what I’m going to do.”
Before Matthias can answer, a knock sounds on our hotel room door.
“At least we’re not going hungry,” I say. To the door I call, “Come in!” Our nightly room service has showed up early today.
But it’s not room service at the door. Instead, it’s Elle’s brother, Owen.
“Hey, dudes,” he says, swaggering into the room. “How’s it hangin’?”
Normally I find Owen amusing, but not today.
“The same as before,” I tell him. “We’re still stuck here until God knows when.”
“Nah, man, I’ve figured it out.”
I close my eyes, not in the mood for Owen’s nonsense. “I’m sure you have, but—”
“I met this awesome chick with a helicopter,” he says. “She says he could fly us, man.”
My eyes open. “What did you say?”
“A helicopter. This chick’s pretty awesome, man. You’re gonna like her.”
I stand up. “Where did you meet her? Is she here?”
“Funny thing, dude. I met her down in the lobby. Says she was supposed to fly some hoity-toity CEO guy out on some ski trip or something but he canceled on her at the last minute. She overheard me talking to the bartender about us trying to find a way outta here and she offered her services.”
“She’s willing to fly into the blizzard?”
“That’s what she said, man. She’s waiting downstairs to talk to you.”
I glance at Matthias, who gives me a nod. I’m not sure how much we can trust Owen’s judgment on this, but it’s the only lead we’ve got.
A few minutes later, the three of us are back down in the hotel bar. Owen indicates a woman sitting by herself at the bar.
“That’s her, dude.”
I’m surprised by how young she looks—probably only about thirty, though it’s hard to tell with her red hair pulled up into a bun. She’s wearing casual but classic clothes—dark pants and a dark coat with a blouse underneath. It’s not quite as formal as a chauffeur’s uniform, but it gives off a similar vibe.
We approach her, and Owen reaches her first, sliding onto the stool next to hers.
“Got ‘em,” he tells her, swinging a thumb in our direction.
“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness,” she says in an American accent, extending her hand to me. “Owen tells me you need to get back to Montovia.”
“We do. And you think you can help us, Miss…?”
“Greene,” she says, giving my hand a shake. “Meghan Greene.”
It’s Matthias who speaks up. “You think you can get us there safely in this weather?” The look on his face suggests that he, for one, doesn’t believe it possible.
“It’ll be a bumpy ride, for sure, but the reports suggest the worst of the storm has passed.” She looks between Matthias and me. “I’ve flown in far worse. I used to do search and rescue back in the States.”
That’s impressive. Maybe our boy Owen has pulled it off after all.
“I’d prefer to leave as soon as possible. I have a wedding to get to, you see.”
“So I’ve heard.” She smiles. “I’m impressed that it’s still happening with this blizzard going on.”
“Yes, well, my family is full of very stubborn people. We don’t like to let a little bad weather stop us.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ll pay you handsomely, of course. Any price you demand.”
“We can discuss payment when I get you there safely,” she says. “Could you be ready in an hour?”
“Yes. Definitely,” I say, finally feeling some hope.
“Great.” She slides off he
r stool. “I’ll meet you in the lobby then.”
We did it—we managed to find a way home. I’m going to make this wedding after all.
When we’re riding the elevator back up to our room, though, Matthias turns to me.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Your Highness?” he says.
“You heard her,” I reply. “She’s flown in far worse than this before.” I peer at his face, trying to read his thoughts. “Are you worried she’s lying? We can check her certifications first, if you like.”
“It is an oddly lucky coincidence, us meeting her,” Matthias says. “I’ll admit, though, she didn’t seem like she was trying to pull one over on us. She could have easily taken your money and run. No, I’m not worried about her lying. I’m worried because, even assuming she’s telling the truth, there’s still a great risk involved. Flying into a blizzard will always be dangerous.”
“What’s the alternative? Missing my own wedding? Spending another bloody week away from the love of my life and my newborn son?” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Matthias, my mind is made up. I’m going home, no matter how risky it is. You’re welcome to stay here until the weather improves, but I need to be home.”
“I understand, Your Highness.”
Neither of us says another word the entire way back to the room.
Elle
It’s still difficult for me to be away from Matthew, but allowing his grandmother a chance to bond with him seems to have done something for all three of us. Matthew has been fussing less—and I swear, he’s sleeping a little better, too. And I’ve been able to take a little more time in the shower.
Honestly, I feel like a new woman.
I have another hour before I need to go and pick up Matthew—I suppose I could use that time to read or watch a little television, but there’s someone I’ve been meaning to see.
I make my way to Victoria’s room and knock on the door.
She doesn’t answer.
I suppose it’s possible that she’s out—probably making plans for the wedding. Maybe I will get to read a bit before Penelope returns the baby.
