The Prince's Baby

by McKenna James

  Alison frowned, unconvinced. “How is that an excuse?”

  “The Kingdom of Wyvernbank is a constitutional monarchy, Diplomat Smith. All motions that have been put forward to organize a response has unfortunately been lost in bureaucratic limbo.”

  “So what you’re saying is that it’s out of your hands.” This was a statement, not a question. The corner of her lip twisted upward into a smirk as she looked at me. “Does His Royal Highness always have someone to answer the tough questions for him?”

  “I am the Prince’s advisor,” explained Patrick. “He speaks through me.”

  “Does he?” She raised curious eyebrow.

  I swallowed hard. Such a simple action shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did. Her tone was infuriating, her confidence was suffocating. But I couldn’t bring myself to stop wanting to hear her voice. It was melodic, hypnotizing in a way I never thought was possible, like a beautiful siren out on the open seas. I’d known many beautiful women, as well as many intelligent women. But Alison Smith was different. I grew up around people who only ever wanted my approval. This was the first time I’d met someone who genuinely didn’t care.

  “If it’s support you need,” she continued, “I would be more than content to discuss logistics with you on behalf of Sunyata.”

  “A joint operation?” I mused. “Old enemies working together for a single cause?”

  A small smile stretched across her rouged lips. “It beats the alternative.”

  “What would that be?”

  “The death of your people and a flood of refugees that Sunyata simply cannot afford to take care of,” she stated simply. “I’m not interested in putting a bandage over this issue in the hopes that it fixes itself. It’s not possible. We need immediate short-term solutions and a long-term plan.”

  “You sound like you’re a woman with a plan.”

  “I certainly am,” she said, tilting her chin up with pride. “Your Royal Highness,” she added for good measure.

  “What are some of these short-term solutions, then?”

  “Sunyata would like to request permission to open up the space over Belwald so that we may deliver food, water, and first aid supplies via airdrop.”

  Patrick scoffed and rolled his eyes, indignant. “Absolutely not!” he snapped. “Why the hell would we give your Air Force the go-ahead to fly over our country? What’s to stop them from flying over our capital and bombing us to smithereens?”

  Alison shook her head. “We’re not interested in war. We’re only interested in saving people’s lives. You also don’t have a large enough Air Force to pull this off, either way.”

  “No thanks to the terms of the peace treaty,” hissed Patrick.

  “Enough, Pat,” I piped up, waving a hand dismissively at him. He set his jaw but said nothing more. “What else, Diplomat Smith?”

  “I’d also like to propose that your Reserve Army arrive in the area to ensure the equal and fair distribution of the resources we provide,” she went on. “I’m sure the presence of your own colors will be an encouraging sight to your people.”

  I took a sharp breath in through the nose. She really knew what she was talking about. The Army answered solely to the orders of the prime minister, and the royal vanguard answered only to the King, but the Reserve Army was under my control. It was customary for the heir to the throne to control the reserves, much like practice for the real thing upon ascension to the throne. The thought of using them to assist in an emergency response hadn’t even occurred to me, so I was utterly impressed that Alison–a woman from an entirely different country–managed to see an opportunity where I hadn’t.

  “That’s your short-term goal,” I muttered. “What about long-term?”

  Alison lifted her head and smiled. “I would like to propose redevelopment of the area. Belwald consists primarily of farmland, but it’s obvious that in today’s shifting climate, a transition into the industrial sector is far more suitable. Manufacturing will provide your people with stable work and steady revenue. The land development would be great for the area, and it would also provide the opportunity to update the region’s water infrastructure to ensure another crisis like this one is unlikely to happen again.”

  Her last statement caught me off guard. They’d been talking about humanitarian relief just seconds ago. How did Alison manage to seamlessly transition this into a conversation about economic development? I had to admit I got a little rise out of it all. Part of me desperately wanted to know what else she had in store.

  “We unfortunately don’t have the resources to see a project like that through,” I said slowly as a small smile stretched itself across my lips. “But I take it you have a plan for that, as well.”

  Alison smiled back, bright and brilliant and bewitching. The air caught in my lungs, and for a moment, I thought my heart had stopped. There was just something about her, in her element at the top of her game, that had my mind swirling uncontrollably.

  “I would like to propose a trade deal on behalf of Sunyata’s foreign trades minister.” She took another stack of documents from her personal assistant. “This is a draft trade agreement my government has come up with. We’d be happy to provide all the required resources you’ll need to develop the region at a very agreeable price.”

  “In exchange for what?” asked Patrick, always one to read between the lines.

  “In exchange for exclusive rights to steel exports into the Kingdom of Wyvernbank.”

  I took a deep breath. When father asked me to take his place at the conference, he assured me that everything was going to be simple and straightforward. But that was before Alison threw everything out the window. I may have been the Crown Prince, but I didn’t have the authority to agree to any of these proposals. Things were escalating at a rate I was no longer comfortable with. I’d started the day believing all I had to do was sit through hours of speeches, not negotiate legitimate trade deals that could impact my fellow countrymen. Alison had a knowing look in her eye. She had me right where she wanted me. And it certainly didn’t help that I was sitting on the hot seat in a room full of witnesses. I could have refused to give an answer, dismiss what she had to say. But that would only paint me and my country in a poor light. She was forcing my hand.

  And it was absolutely exhilarating.

  “I will agree to take immediate action with regards to the water crisis,” I said clearly. Patrick shot me a concerned look, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looked as anxious as I felt. I made sure to keep my expression neutral and calm. “But I’m afraid I will have to take your trade proposal back to parliament for review. That decision isn’t up to me. Have your people submit the logistics for the relief project so that we may coordinate the response promptly.”

  Alison smiled. Not as wide as she did before, but it was still something. I’d given her half of what she wanted, which was by no means a small victory from her perspective. She gave a small bow while maintaining eye contact before returning to her seat.

  “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

  “I don’t like her,” grumbled Patrick under his breath.

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “But I do.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alison

  “Oh my God,” mumbled Klaus. “Oh my God.” He nibbled at his fingernails, knees bouncing uncontrollably. He was sat on the edge of the hotel bed, rocking his weight back and forth in an attempt to expend the nervous energy he’d stored throughout the remainder of the conference. “You almost started a war.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

  “Ali, I’m being serious. You can’t pull shit like that.”

  “I had everything under control.”

  “I think you took twenty years off my life. I thought we were only going to propose the humanitarian response. What the hell was the whole steel export thing about?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s a negotiation tactic, honey. I figu
red that if I presented two proposals, the latter being out of his experience and control, the more likely he’d be to agree with the original plan. And it worked.”

  Klaus’ jaw dropped. “Sometimes I think you’re the spawn of Satan.”

  I threw my personal assistant a cheeky wink. “You think, or you know?”

  He simply shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I know. How else could you have played the Prince as well as you did? I mean, did you see his face? He was practically drooling over you.”

  I scoffed. “No, he wasn’t.”

  “I guarantee you no one has ever spoken to him like that before.”

  “First time for everything, right?”

  “Seriously, please behave yourself at tonight’s gala dinner. Pull another stunt like you did at the conference, and I swear to you my heart will burst. And then you’ll have to call my mother and tell her how you’re the one responsible for my death.”

  I dragged the tip of my finger over my chest, drawing an X over my heart. “I swear I’ll be good.” I giggled. “And I don’t think I could do that to your sweet mother anyway.”

  Klaus took his glasses off and polished the lenses with a microfiber cloth he always had in his inside blazer pocket. He cleared his throat, returning to the matter at hand.

  “Now, I’ve been informed that dinner is six courses long. I’ve made arrangements to have you excused by the time the third arrives, so you don’t have to spend too much time making small talk.” He replaced his glasses and mimed quotes in the air with his fingers. “‘A work emergency.’”

  “Classic.”

  “You have a meeting first thing tomorrow morning with Prince Sebastian’s team of assistants with regards to the response plan. With any luck, supplies should start arriving to the people within a matter of days.”

  “Do you think the Prince will show up?”

  Klaus snorted. “I sincerely doubt it. He probably doesn’t want to give you the chance to make a fool of him again.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “If I were you, I’d be on the first plane back home. I’m terrified of the man.”

  “Why? He’s harmless.”

  Klaus pressed his lips into a thin line and frowned at me. “You know as well as I do that there’s a lot of bad blood between our two nations. As the next in the line for the throne, he holds a great deal of influence. I know you’re a confident woman, Ali–and I love you for it–but he isn’t somebody you want to piss off. We may not presently be at war, but politics are a fickle bitch. Wyvernbank is still recovering after their loss. And a lot of people are still pissed with the treaty their King signed.”

  I sighed and nodded. “I understand, Klaus.”

  “You’re an amazing person. You’re selfless and kind. And you’re exactly the type of person who gets hurt first when things go south. All I’m saying is you need to be careful. No more playing with fire, okay?”

  “You deserve a raise,” I giggled weakly, exhaustion suddenly washing over my mind.

  “I can fill out all the paperwork to make that happen.” Klaus stood, straightening his tie. “I’m going to go get ready. Don’t forget to text your sister.”

  “I know, I know. Otherwise, she’ll blow up your phone with messages.”

  “Was there anything else I could help you with before I go?”

  I shook my head and smiled, patting Klaus on the shoulders. “No, I think I’m good.”

  “Good work today.” He chuckled. “You deserve to enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “I fully intend to.”

  With a curt nod, Klaus turned on his heels and left the hotel room, making his way down the hall to return to his own. Once the heavy door clicked shut, I sat on the edge of the bed and lay down on my side, kicking off my heels with a relieved sigh. As great as they made me look, they were killers on the arches. I momentarily closed my eyes, collecting my thoughts after the crazy morning I’d had. I was alive with bubbly excitement, fingers and toes tingling with electricity. The day had gone spectacularly well, which was surprising considering King Regis’ last-minute change of plans. I’d been forced to adjust my whole strategy on a whim, but the fact that I actually pulled it off wasn’t a miracle. I lived and breathed negotiation.

  I thought back to my exchange with Prince Sebastian and smiled to myself. Klaus was obviously being overdramatic when he said the Prince had been drooling over me. Prince Sebastian handled himself really well, all things considered. When he spoke, he commanded the room’s attention. He was able to keep up with me, our consistent back and forth echoing in my memories like music. When I spoke, he actually listened. Not once did he cut me off to make a point. Not once did he raise his voice at me or lose his temper. Prince Sebastian was entirely different in person, nothing at all like the tabloids made him out to be. He seemed far more responsible, more level-headed than the party-loving Prince I’d heard so much about.

  My cell phone buzzed on the bedside table, screen lighting up to alert me of a text message from my sister. I groaned, lifting myself off of the comfortable sheets to snatch the device up.

  [Kamrin] How’s my favorite sister doing? Did you get the King’s autograph?

  My thumbs quickly moved about the screen, typing up a quick reply.

  [Ali] 1) I’m your only sister. 2) I didn’t get to meet the King.

  [Kamrin] You’re the only sister that I know of. You know how Dad got around.

  [Ali] Ugh. Gross. Stop it.

  Kamrin sent a string of laughing emotes.

  [Kamrin] When are you coming home? I miss you.

  [Ali] Miss you too. It’s a week-long conference. First day is done and out of the way.

  [Kamrin] I’m so jealous. I’ve always wanted to visit.

  [Ali] You know I’m not here on vacation, right?

  [Kamrin] I know, I know. Still. You should find some time to sneak out.

  [Ali] And do what, exactly?

  [Kamrin] I dunno. Go see some sites? Go chat up some cute boys? Normal people things.

  [Ali] But I am normal.

  [Kamrin] Sure. You’re just a normal girl who likes to broker peace on weekdays.

  [Ali] It’s what I do.

  [Kamrin] Will you bring me back a souvenir?

  Just as I was about to text a reply, three sharp knocks sounded on the hotel door. I frowned. I wasn’t expecting any guests, I hadn’t ordered room service, and Klaus had his own key and probably wouldn’t have bothered to knock. Making my way quietly down the entryway hall, I pressed my face up to the peephole. On the other side of the door stood a familiar man, the one who’d been at Prince Sebastian’s side the entirety of the conference. Cautiously, I cracked the door open an inch.

  “Miss Smith,” he greeted dryly. There was nothing but bitterness in his tone. “I’m Patrick Lane, Prince Sebastian’s personal advisor. Do you have a moment?”

  There’s a lot of bad blood between our two nations.

  “How did you know which hotel I was staying at?” I questioned.

  “I know everything, Miss Smith. When it comes to the Prince’s well-being, it’s a must. Now, do you have a moment? There are a few things I would like to discuss with you.”

  “May I ask what about?”

  Patrick’s eyes grew cold. “This evening’s formal gala,” he stated. “Would you please open the door? I’d rather not do this in the hallway. I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

  I hesitated for a moment, making quick study of the man. He was taller than me by a foot or so, but he had an incredibly slender frame. As annoyed as he looked, I didn’t get the sense he was here to do me any harm. I eventually stepped out of the way of the door and swung it open, allowing him to brush past me. In my line of work, it was better to be safe than sorry. I clicked the door closed behind me and turned to face him. Patrick reached into the inside pocket of his blazer, which immediately set off all the alarms in my head. He grabbed hold of something, concealed by the fabric. Instinctively, I reached out a
nd grasped his wrist, holding his arm firmly against his chest.

  “What the hell?” he spat. “Would you calm down? It’s not a gun.”

  I blinked, cheeks feeling awfully hot. “What?”

  Patrick shrugged me off and pulled out a small beige envelope. He held it out to me, gritting his teeth. “Prince Sebastian wanted me to deliver this to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “How should I know?”

  “I thought you knew everything,” I quipped.

  His expression hardened. “I don’t like you,” he admitted with great ease.

  I scoffed. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  “Hurry up and open it. I was instructed not to leave until I could confirm you read its contents.”

  “The Prince put you up to this.”

  “He did.”

  Curiosity forced my hands to move before I even had the chance to think. Since when was it considered normal for the Crown Prince of Wyvernbank to send private messages to a foreign envoy?

  “He could have sent an email,” I muttered, half-joking. I carefully tore open the envelope, which had been sealed with red wax. It was almost a pity that the beautiful seal design cracked when I retrieved the cardstock from within.

  “Prince Sebastian didn’t leave any trace of his correspondence,” explained Patrick. “I’ve been instructed to destroy his message to you once you’re finished.”

  “This is all very cloaks and daggers.” I chuckled.

  “His Royal Highness has had bad experiences with leaked emails to the press in the past. He thinks it’s tedious to communicate this way, as well, if you must know.”

  I looked down at the message Prince Sebastian sent me, which had been handwritten. The script was elegant, like something out of an old fairy tale book. The ink flowed across the page with great ease, loops and spirals connecting letter to letter in an endless stream of movement.

  Dear Diplomat Alison Smith,

  It is customary at state dinners such as this one to formally request an invitation to dance.

  Would you do me the honor of being my partner this evening?