by Laura Burton
“Within the hour. We’ll return in time for the luncheon,” she moves her gaze from me to Cristiano.
“The luncheon?” I ask, turning my head from the Queen to Cristiano.
“I am most-excited to see your parents, again,” my mother says to Cristiano, and my heart sinks. More royal engagements.
I shake the thought away before it can make me dizzy, and throw my arms around the Queen. I’ve gone into autopilot mode. Whenever my parents leave the house, it’s totally normal to hug and kiss goodbye.
Of course, I’ve been raised to give great big bear hugs. Nothing says, “bye, love you,” like crushing a person’s spine.
But perfume floods my nostrils and grips my heart with the stark realization that I’m giving the Queen an almighty squeeze.
She stiffens in my arms and I let go as if I just wrapped my arms around a cactus. Then I tuck a stray hair behind my ear.
“Do travel safe,” I add. As if that’s going to save the situation.
The Queen’s eyes narrow at me, and I stare back, unable to break eye-contact even though I really, really want to. It’s like she’s suddenly seeing me. Not Primrose.
Is the secret out? Have these bonds of deception been undone? Maybe I can tell them the truth and someday we’ll all look back at this moment and laugh?
But then her eyes flash and her face turns neutral. “Take care, my dear,” she says again. Then she walks away, her gown swooshing behind her.
I can only imagine the number of formal appearances we will have to make before Prim gets back. But right now, I have to get into a bathing suit and go swimming with the Prince of Rossini. I glance at him.
Now I wish a natatorium was a prison cell. Because the thought of swimming half-naked with the Prince––who is totally off-limits, and doesn’t even know my real name––is going to be pure torture.
Chapter 9
The bottom of the pool is full of glittering mosaic tiles, casting a gorgeous array of colors on the ceiling. I walk into the pool room with a towel wrapped around me, looking for Cristiano. Thankfully, I’m the first to make it to the pool, so I take the opportunity to drape my towel over a sun lounger and slip into the water, before he sees me.
The cool water sends a shockwave through my body and I shudder as I force my knees to bend, soon the waterline hovers near my chin.
Seriously? The royal family must be gazillionaires and they can’t pay for a heated pool? Madness.
The yellow and orange tiles look like rays of sunshine under my feet, and as I bop up and down, my red hair freely flowing past my shoulders and floating on the surface of the water, I feel like a mermaid.
A door hinge squeals and I spin to watch Cristiano––no, not Cristiano. A Greek statue––walk in. He must have just stepped out of a shower, because his black hair looks waxy and drops of water cling to his body like diamonds. His glistening abs grow bigger as he approaches, and I force my eyes up to meet his.
“Have you cooled down a little?” he asks as he descends the steps into the pool. I back away. Funny enough, the water rises in temperature as he immerses himself fully into the pool.
Maybe my overheated spells have nothing to do with the sun… And everything to do with the man who is now swimming toward me, with the cheekiest smile on his face.
I didn’t know Princes are allowed to swim. I always pictured them in stuffy suits, walking around like mannequins, waving to crowds, shaking hands with important men.
The tall windows remind me of our lack of privacy. A row of royal guards is standing outside, looking in. But part of me wonders what possible danger could face us in here?
Do we really have to be watched, all the time?
Cristiano starts doing laps of the pool. His arms move fluidly and he darts across the water like a fish. He’s a natural. Meanwhile, I can just about tread water and do a casual breaststroke.
After several minutes, Cristiano stops mid-lap and looks at me curiously.
Right. I should be swimming too, rather than bobbing in the water and staring.
I take a few leisurely strokes across the water with a nervous giggle. The move seems to pacify the prince as he launches back into action.
Okay. All I have to do is keep swimming and ignore the hot prince and his rippling muscles. I can do that.
As I swim faster, a lovely breeze floats over my face and I close my eyes, buoyed up by the water and feeling freer than ever.
The problem with swimming and having my eyes closed, though, is apparently it makes my sense of direction suck.
See exhibit A: I open my eyes at the sound of a grunt and the sensation of my foot colliding with something squishy.
I lurch back and clutch my face with horror at Cristiano wincing, curled up in a ball.
“Did I just––I am so, so sorry!” I blurt. Trust me to swim in a huge pool with just one other person and still find a way to kick them.
This is why I don’t take risks. Or venture out and do things on my own. Because since my arrival, it’s been one disaster after another. And I think they’d happen whether I was pretending to be a princess or not.
I climb out of the pool shaking, no longer caring if the Prince catches a peek of the stretch marks on my thighs. I figure he’s got bigger things on his mind. Then I bundle myself up in my towel, and plop down on the sun lounger.
Cristiano joins me, dabs his face and neck with his towel and smiles politely.
This guy. How he can act so smooth and cool after being kicked in the crown jewels is beyond my comprehension. Crown jewels. I smirk inwardly at my own wit.
Come on Violet. Think of something to say to break the ice.
“So, do you have any siblings?” I ask innocently. Cristiano settles on the lounger next to mine and his eyes glaze over. “One,” he says softly. “My older brother is first in line.”
“Oh. So that’s why you’re marrying Prim...”
Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.
Cristiano looks at me, picking up on the weird statement. How normal is it to refer to oneself in third person? How do I rescue this?
“I mean me,” I say lamely. “Sorry. Sometimes I think all of this is happening to someone else.”
Cristiano hums in agreement and it calms my nerves. “I know what you mean.”
I sigh. Nice save.
“I’m an only child…” Apparently, my brain adds. Cristiano's face breaks into a huge grin and that beautiful dimple is on full show again. Even though I have no idea what’s so funny, I find myself grinning back too.
“Of course you are. I’m familiar with your laws.”
My smile fades. “Laws?”
What have laws got to do with this? Cristiano’s face falls too. “How do you feel about children?”
Then I remember the plan. He must be talking about the law to produce an heir by my––I mean Prim’s––thirtieth birthday.
“I love children. I would love a whole bunch of them. I’d teach them to sing and play music, and we’ll waltz around the grounds like the Vontrapp family.”
A flicker of joy crosses Cristiano’s face but then his eyes darken and he frowns so deeply, a line appears between his brows.
“Did I say something to offend you?” I ask, worried. Cristiano shakes his head slightly, as if to rid himself of his inner thoughts, then he turns to look at me again.
“I’m so sorry,” he says deeply. And I believe it’s the most authentic and raw apology I have ever received. The problem is, I’ve no idea why he’d be saying sorry to me?
“What for?” I ask and Cristiano takes my hand. He grazes his thumb across my knuckles and takes a long steady breath. This time he can’t meet my gaze. The hairs on the back of my neck rise at his behavior, as if my body knows what’s coming.
“The law. I wish... It could be changed so that we can have a big family.”
I tilt my head to the side and completely lose character. “What law?”
Right here, right now, I’m just Violet
, the adopted twin, dying to know why she was rejected. And now I get the impression that Cristiano might just be the key to the answers I’m looking for. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet my searching look.
“The law that states the royal family of Andonna must only produce a single heir.”
My mouth hangs open.
“Right... that law.” I force a smile even though my insides lurch. “I forgot.”
Chapter 10
With the King and Queen gone, the air in the palace feels much more relaxed. Prince Cristiano and I are still chaperoned everywhere we go, but there’s a lot more freedom to explore the grounds, and we spend hours in the evening playing games in the billiard room.
A week rolls by, and I manage to avoid any major mishaps. Which feels like a miracle. But it might also be due to the fact I’ve slumped into a weird state of depression since Cristiano told me about the law.
I’m too scared to ask more questions. Was I handed to a maid and smuggled overseas before anyone came to execute me? Did the King find out and send me away, not telling the Queen that she gave birth to twins?
How did Prim find out about me?
I avoid Prim’s calls for a couple of days and message my mom the information she wanted about the senior homes. But I make excuses to them both, not wanting to talk on the phone.
Right now, all I’ve got is Teddy to snuggle and Cristiano to entertain me to stop my brain from coming up with depressing scenarios.
The more time I spend with Cristiano, the more I want to confide in him.
As far as he’s concerned, we’re courting and soon to be married. And he plays the part of a doting fiancé spectacularly.
At breakfast, he pulled my chair out and kissed me on the cheek.
As we strolled the grounds, he took care to have me walk in the shade of the trees, so as not to let the sun burn my pale skin.
When we sat and watched the ducks paddling in the pond, he rubbed my lower back, as if he instinctively knew that it ached from sitting upright all the time.
Oh, what I’d give to put on a pair of sweatpants, throw my hair into a messy bun and slouch on the couch in front of the TV.
The night before our next public appearance, we decide to take another stroll. The moonlight floods the garden path and we stop near a group of bushes. I stoop down and pluck a purple flower from the ground and frown at it.
“Is there something bothering you, Prim?” Cristiano asks, gently. I sigh, rolling the stem between my fingers and watching the flower spin.
“I just miss being Violet,” I say heavily, my shoulders sagging under the weight of my mood.
“What do you mean?” Cristiano asks and I look up to meet his enquiring gaze. A small tuft of his hair sticks up and without thinking, I reach up and smooth it down. A flicker of a smile crosses his face and I’m suddenly aware of my own words.
“I mean; I miss having violets in my room.”
Cristiano hums in thought, takes the flower out of my hand and studies it.
“Violet has many meanings. Where I am from, the violet flower represents honesty, humility and love.”
His words burn my soul. He looks at me with piercing eyes and it’s almost too much to bear. “If I may,” he whispers. Then he slides the flower’s stem into my hair and lifts my chin with his index finger. I swallow, blinking up at him and wondering what to do.
“It is the most perfect flower for my princess.”
It’s not. It’s the worst flower, ever. But Cristiano seems oblivious to my misgivings as he lowers his head, and all my senses become enveloped in his wonderful woody aroma. I inhale deeply, and he wraps his arms around me, resting his hands on my waist. It’s a full body hug, not just a nice friendly squeeze with a pat on the back. My breath catches with my face squished against his chest and I cling onto his back as if I’m drowning in all the lies and he’s the only thing keeping me afloat.
I never knew a hug could be so... Intimate.
A vibration near my hip startles us apart, and Cristiano pulls out his phone from his pocket with an apologetic grin. He taps the screen and stuffs it in his pocket again.
“May I escort you back?” he says, offering me his arm. We walk in silence, listening to the trees blowing in the sea breeze and the waves of the ocean. I can’t see it, but the salty breeze tells me it’s not too far outside the palace gates.
We stop at the top of the grand staircase, his room is on the right and mine is down the hall to the left. But he takes my hand and slowly presses his lips to my knuckles.
Neither of us say anything. We just hover on the spot, holding hands, and wondering how long we can get away with just staying here.
But Cristiano’s phone vibrates again and he rolls his eyes.
“My sincerest apologies. I should take this. Sleep sweet, my princess.”
All I can do is nod with the goofiest grin, then I turn and make for my room, willing myself not to turn back and look. But after a few steps, the urge becomes all-consuming and I glance back. I’m inexplicably happy when I see that Cristiano turned back too, and our eyes lock for a moment. Then we share a sheepish smile and wave.
I walk back to my room with my hands balled into fists, biting my lip in an attempt to stop myself from squealing.
Repeat after me: I can’t fall for Cristiano. I can’t fall for…
Oh, who the heck am I kidding? It’s already happening.
I’m falling. Hard. And when I switch back with Prim and reality hits, it’s going to hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Chapter 11
It’s been a week and I’m already used to the plush pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets. The large four-poster bed has become my own little safe space. Teddy wriggles under the covers with me and curls up over my chest. I welcome his furry warmth.
The days are hot in Andonna, but come nightfall, there’s a chill in the air. The old palace doesn’t seem to have air conditioning or particularly effective heating. With its drafty single-pane windows and stone floors, it would be impossible to keep the place warm anyway.
I’m in a slightly improved mood––thanks to Cristiano. So, I pick up my phone and call Prim.
She sounds a bit breathless when she answers the call.
“Violet, I’m extremely delighted to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry it’s been a few days... It’s been quite busy here.” That’s a lie. It’s not been busy. Unless I count flirting with the Prince and all the endless eating.
“It’s not a problem, honestly,” Prim says through a giggle. I raise a brow at the phone, as if looking at her picture on the screen might give me a clue as to why she sounds so… Distracted.
“Are you okay? Is Jo looking after you?”
“Yes, yes. All grand, here. No need to worry at all,” Prim says, her voice far too high-pitched to be believable.
The only other person I know who says “grand” is…
“Ciao, Bella, see you in the morning.”
I set my jaw.
Alejandro.
“Who was that?”
“What? Oh… it was Jo.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. And since when does she speak Italian?”
“She has a widespread knowledge of languages.”
“And she always calls you beautiful?”
Prim doesn’t answer for a second, all I can hear is heavy breathing.
“Please don’t tell me you two were…”
“No! He was just showing me his––”
“Do I want to hear the rest of that sentence?”
“––dance moves,” Prim finishes, to my relief. I shake my head, hating the idea of Alejandro in my apartment with my twin sister. But the main point of this call is not Alejandro, or whatever shenanigans Prim’s getting up to while I’m here dutifully taking her place.
“Cristiano told me about the law,” I say, finally spitting out the words weighing heavy on my mind.
Prim gasps but doesn’t reply straight away. “Which law?”
/>
“You know which one. Prim. How did you find out about me?”
“It’s… Complicated.”
“Well, I’m listening and I’ve got all night. So, come on, I think I deserve to know what you know.”
Prim hums, apparently mulling my words over in her mind.
“Mother and Father have their own rooms. I’m not sure if you know that.” It’s the last thing I expect her to say. I drag a hand over my face with a huff.
“Well, since I’ve been here, I’ve only seen them twice. And oddly, the topic of their private quarters never came up in conversation.”
Prim keeps silent, and I picture her eyes narrowing at me, not appreciating my sarcasm. Then a heavy sigh tells me she might actually tell me something useful.
“Growing up, I would walk past Mother's room and hover near the door at the sound of her weeping. I thought it was quite normal for mothers to cry. Because she did, every night, until I reached adulthood.”
“And... The King?” I ask, not able to bring myself to call him Father.
“He is very kind and generous with the people.”
“But with you?”
Prim sucks in a breath. “Cold and distant.”
She says the words as if they give her physical pain and then it hits me. This is the first time she’s told anyone about any of this.
The thought tugs on my heart. I can’t imagine how lonely Prim must have been all these years, with a distant father, a crying mother and no one to confide in. I wish we could have this conversation in person. She’ll cry. I’ll cry. We’ll hug. Then we’ll crank out a tub of ice cream and everything will be better.
“A little over a month ago. I heard Mother and Father having a rather loud disagreement. Usually they barely say a word to each other. So, I was curious…”
“What was the fight about?” I press, hanging onto her every word.
“You.”
The word turns my blood cold and I sit up––much to Teddy’s disdain. He grumbles and rolls over onto his belly, nuzzling the pillow.
“I heard them talking about a twin. Mother wanted to see you, but Father forbade it. And in our family… What the King says, goes.”
