The Prince's Bride (Part 2)

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Please see that we keep this as brief as possible,” I said to Balduin, fixing my tie as we pulled up the prime minister’s residence, with a red door and a slew of reporters already across the street. Not likely by chance. “Very, very brief, Balduin.”

  “Yes, sir,” Balduin said as Hermenegild stepped out with his wife, a typical Ersovian beauty with bright-blue eyes and long, brown hair.

  Doing my best to put a pleasant expression on my face, I nodded once, and the door opened for me.

  “Prince Galahad!”

  “Prince Galahad, where is Odette?”

  “Adelaar over here, sir! How do you feel about the bill?”

  “If there is a tie, which will you chose—the people or the alliance?

  Ignoring the press, I focused on the man before me. “Prime Minister. Mrs. Hermenegild.”

  “Your Highness, we thank you for making the time.” The prime minister nodded as his wife curtsied. I moved to step forward, but he lifted his arm, ushering me to turn so we could take a photo together. I bit the inside of my cheek but turned, looking at the press, waving like a good puppet until we were finally free to go.

  “His Highness only has few minutes to spare, Mr. Prime Minister—”

  “Oh, hello.” Hermenegild jumped back, startled by Balduin, and looked at his wife. “Sorry, sir, I did not see you down there.”

  This son of a bloody whore.

  “Have you ever thought of glasses then, Mr. Prime Minister? I’m small but not so small that you shouldn’t be able to see me. I did not know your sight was so poor. Or are you trying to make fun of my height?” Balduin said and shocked us all.

  “Of course not.” Hermenegild nodded at him.

  “Would anyone like refreshments?” Mrs. Hermenegild asked quickly to save the man from apologizing. “They are in the dining room. Please, Your Highness.”

  I glanced down at Balduin, and he held his head high.

  I grinned, walking forward. At least this wasn’t completely humorless. Watching someone take the prime minister to task, even for a second, almost made up for being here at all.

  “Everyone, His Royal Highness, Prince Galahad.”

  Turning the corner, I prepared to shake the hands of other men and women of parliament only to find that it was not only not a member of parliament, but there, dressed in a rather suggestive black gown, was the one and only Sabina Franziska. Every panic button and alarm went off in my mind. Of all the places, how had she managed to get in here? My gaze shifted to the prime minister, wondering if he had plotted from the very beginning? And what end was he was trying to accomplish?

  “Your Highness?” Mrs. Hermenegild questioned as the server was still waiting for me to take a glass of wine.

  “Thank you.” I nodded, taking it from him and turning my back on Sabina, looking at the rest of the guests in attendance.

  I would not allow anyone to manipulate or entrap me. I made it all around the room until finally reaching Sabina again.

  “Your Highness.” She curtsied much longer than she needed to.

  I did not give her my hand. Instead, I smiled. “You are capable of getting into anywhere, Ms. Franziska.”

  “I was lucky enough to be invited by Sir Wolverhover.” She nodded at the lanky young man beside her.

  “Sir Wolverhover, thank goodness you are here. If you weren’t, I’m sure the press would have a field day, making up new false rumors of tonight’s dinner,” I replied.

  “Thank you, sir?” he replied, though clearly uncomfortable. Good, if I had to be, the rest of them should have been as well.

  “We have all been the prey of media, Your Highness,” Hermenegild said, coming beside me. “Please, follow me. I have been informed dinner is served.”

  I looked at Balduin, hoping he had an excuse to allow me to leave. However, he only frowned, shaking his head.

  “Brilliant,” I managed to get out as I followed them. I prayed to make it through this unscathed, but knowing if I had such luck, I wouldn’t have been placed in this situation to begin with.

  As we sat down—me at one end of the table and Ivan at the other—some bloody fool thought to say, “Isn’t this pleasant? If only we could all come together like this more often.”

  Pleasant?

  I smiled. “Yes, though I hope I have more forewarning next time as I had an important date tonight.”

  “With Miss Wyntor?” the man asked beside.

  “Yes, my fiancée.”

  “Oh, is Miss Wyntor adapting to royal life?” Hermenegild asked as they brought the first course to me. “Actually, not just royal life but Ersovia.”

  “She must be completely out of it.” His wife giggled, and when I looked at her, she immediately sat up straighter. “I mean, as an American, it is a lot to get used to. New language, new customs, new government.”

  “Yes, it is challenging, I imagine,” I replied, nodding thanks to the server as he brought my plate. “However, she would not be first to do so. Throughout history, princes and kings have married foreign princesses. Like Princess Ingrid II of Denmark, who married my ancestor, King Kristoffer III, in 1802. And their son ended up being Armand the Great. Despite how hard it may be, not only is Odette willing to learn, she is learning quickly. In fact, she is to give a speech at Royal University. So clearly, neither she nor I am any different from anyone else that came before us.”

  “What a pity it is that America does not have a princess, though,” Hermenegild replied—clearly stating that Odette was not like Princess Ingrid II.

  “True. But to Americans, an heiress is just a princess without a title, correct?” another man stated, laughingly, though they were all silent.

  And so, I lifted my spoon and ate.

  “Very correct,” Sir Wolverhover said, responding late for some odd reason. “But would it not have been easier to marry someone Ersovian?”

  “I do not believe love cares about what is easier. In all honesty, from the great writers and poets, it seems to me love prefers the harder.” I chuckled.

  As did a few other men at the table.

  “Here. Here,” said another man I vaguely knew to be part of the prime minister’s staff, leaning forward. “My wife is a good fifteen years older than me and had two children before we were married. If you only knew what my heart has endured chasing after her.”

  I lifted my glass to him. “May they write fondly of you, Mr—forgive me. What was your name again?”

  “Mr. Horvath. Mikel Horvath, Your Highness,” he replied.

  “Pleasure.”

  And it truly was because Mr. Horvath seemed to be like a shield and sword in tall grass, directing and creating paths for new conversation whenever the prime minister, his wife, or his party members seemed to want to push their ideology upon us. Notably quiet was Sabina, who ate and kept her attention on the guest who had invited her. It felt like it had gone on far too long before Balduin finally managed some excuse to free me from this.

  I all but ran from the table. I told them all not to bother to see me off, and instead, to finish their meal, following Balduin toward the front. We had almost made it out before I heard her voice.

  “You do not think you are being too cold?”

  I paused, and Balduin looked at me.

  And when I nodded at him, he stepped to the side, opening the door to the prime minister’s study. I allowed her in first before stepping inside. She turned to me, her arms crossed, and her eyes soft and downcast. But I wouldn’t fall for it. I knew her well enough, and I knew myself well enough.

  “No, I do not,” I answered. “This is how I have always been with you, Sabina. Never have I ever promised or shown to you that there would be anything more. You were a friend—”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes, a friend, who helped me when I needed it. And I thank you. But I told you in the beginning, so I did not think I had to repeat it, but I shall now, so you do not keep appearing in front of my fiancée or me. There will never be a ‘you and
me.’ Ever. Goodnight.”

  “I know you. I’ll see you at your next crisis—”

  “Did you see me at my last one?” I asked her. “My brother died. That was the biggest crisis of my life. And the person who was with me at that moment is the person who will be with me in the future. Please, Sabina, stop, for all of our sakes. Stop.”

  I didn’t wait to hear any more. Instead, I walked back out to where Balduin was still waiting, not just him but Ivan. Ivan smiled and nodded at me. And never more did I want to punch a man in the face.

  “Thank you for dinner,” was all I said instead.

  “The pleasure is ours, Your Highness.”

  I couldn’t get into the car fast enough. I didn’t wave at the reporters, who were still waiting outside. I couldn’t even look back. I sat in my seat and urged them to go. It was only when I saw the red door fading in the background that I relaxed, rubbing my temple as I felt a headache coming. I thought of Sabina. Would she really just drop it? How would Ivan somehow twist all of this to paint me as some horrid villain? The playboy, womanizing prince. Once again, I could hear my brother lecturing me for my past. Was it Sabina’s fault for still trying? Or my fault for going to her before, knowing full well I’d one day have to toss her aside?

  “Iskandar, am I an asshole?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I scoffed, dropping my hand to look at him. “You could not have hesitated?”

  “Sorry, sir. Are you an asshole?” He was silent for a good twenty seconds before saying, “Yes, sir.”

  I shifted my gaze to Balduin, who nodded as he checked his messages.

  “How unfortunate it must be for you all,” I grumbled.

  “We all have assholes in us, sir,” Balduin replied. “It’s the better parts that make us overlook or forget.”

  “Are you saying I am more of a better person than I am an asshole?” I didn’t know if I should be happy about how they phrased all of this.

  “Exactly, sir.”

  I chuckled. “Thank you. I think.”

  Chapter 21

  Upon returning to the palace, I immediately went to the cherry gardens, knowing she’d be there, waiting, even if I were this late. And sure enough, there she was dressed in a flowing white gown with her hair pulled up into a messy bun, dancing in the middle of the gazebo, under the moonlight, like a muse from Virgil’s Aeneid. She held up her arm and watched her steps carefully as she practiced. I could hear the faint sound of “Awaken Dreams” by Benedictus von Heinrich, but I didn’t know where it came from until she missed a step—well, a few steps and stopped, clearly frustrated. She inhaled deeply before going to the gazebo’s edge, lifting her phone and restarting the music. Odette moved back to the middle and raised her hands.

  I could not stand by and watch, so I ran up the gazebo’s steps and appeared in front of her, lifting her hand with my right and putting my left on the small of her back.

  “Gale?”

  “Odette.” I smiled, leading with my right foot first, and immediately she followed.

  “When did you get back?”

  “Just now,” I replied, helping her shoulders relax a bit. “How long have you been practicing?”

  “Since Lady de Marissonne said I looked like a scared turtle when I waltzed.”

  “Ha! I can see it!”

  “Shut up!” she snapped, trying to break away, but I held her closer.

  “I am only joking. You look as breathtaking as always. Tonight, you look a vision of myths and legends.”

  Her eyes narrowed on me. “Laying it on a bit thick?”

  “You haven’t gotten used to it yet?” I shot back, turning us both.

  She had a reply, but the moment she stepped on my foot, she forgot all about it and looked down, frowning.

  “Whatever it is, don’t worry about it,” I said to her.

  “But I have to worry about it! They told me about the Queen’s State Dinner. It’s going to be my first. They even said I had to wear a crown. Sorry, I mean a tiara—there is a difference. So, not only do I have to dance but also do it with like a million dollars on my head, and under no circumstance is it allowed to fall. But before I can worry about all of that, I have to get through my speech. I’m complaining a lot, aren’t I?”

  “No. Well, yes, but I’m glad you are,” I said because, honestly, I was. “It is better than when you first came and said nothing to me at all about what was going on. Instead, you kept just saying, ‘I’m fine’ until you exploded.”

  “I did not.”

  I gave her a look, and her face bunched up in response.

  “Fine, I might have exploded a little.”

  “Like a tiny nuclear bomb.”

  “It was not that bad.”

  “Had me trembling in fear.”

  “You are so dramatic.”

  I chuckled and nodded. But I was seriously glad we were getting to see each other day by day. “You share your complaints with me, and I shall share mine with you. God knows I’d like to explode too.”

  “What happened?” Her whole expression was now serious.

  I did not want to say, but I did not what her to think I was hiding it, either. Truthfully, I knew I really couldn’t hide it anyway. “Well, this morning, I embarrassed myself in front of the Solar Energy Coalition by mixing up a photovoltaic cell and a photoelectron chemical cell.”

  “A what and what?”

  “Thank you!” I exclaimed. “My thoughts exactly. It is not as if I am an engineering student, but I still wished to understand, so I studied the basic terms of what they would be showing me. A simple slip of the tongue, and they were all chuckling as if I did not even finish primary school. And I thought that was going to be the worst of the day, only to be invited to dinner at the prime minister's—no, not invited, entrapped.”

  “Entrapped?”

  I sighed, looking into her eyes. “Sabina was there.”

  Just like that, her smile dropped. “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh, so I’m sure we can both look forward to whatever headline will come in the morning.”

  “I’m doing my best not to look, but it’s hard when...”

  “The whole palace knows and is pretending it’s not?”

  She nodded. “What happened with Sabina?”

  “Nothing happened with Sabina,” I whispered back. “I ate dinner, restrained myself from causing a national crisis by punching the prime minister, and when I left, I told Sabina to stop.”

  “To stop?”

  “Getting in the way, appearing in our faces, basking in the press’s attention.”

  “I do not know if she will give up that easily. If she was bold enough to tell me she was going to be your mistress—”

  “Oh God, how I hate that word. No, I hate this conversation,” I replied quickly. “Do not worry about her.”

  “So, you can worry about her alone?”

  “I won’t worry about her at all. Rather, I shall worry if my toes will hold up against you.”

  Her eyes widened, and she backed away from me as if I had the plague. “Sorry!”

  I laughed.

  “Gale!”

  Grabbing her hand, I spun her back into my arms and held her tightly. Instead of dancing, however, I moved us to the edge.

  “This is my favorite garden in the palace,” I whispered into her ear. “They were given to my father by the Japanese emperor for his coronation. In the emperor’s letter to my father, he wrote, ‘may your reign see their full blossoming thrice over.’ My father would often bring me here to watch them. I was annoyed because they took so long to grow, so I stopped coming with him, and then one day, I was walking through the eastern garden and looked over. All I saw was a sea of pink petals. They were everywhere. And my father was standing with my mother, grinning and laughing with her because he’d seen the first full bloom after thirty years. It was wondrous, so wondrous, in fact, that I made sure no matter what happened, I’d always be home in time to see them bloom.”


  She leaned back against me, rocking with me slightly. “That’s sweet. But I have to admit that it’s so strange to me.”

  “What?”

  “Coronation gifts from Japanese emperors. That type of stuff was only ever in history books, and now it’s in front of me.”

  “Yeah, we are living history.”

  “Have you thought about what they will give you?” she whispered.

  I held on to her tighter, taking in the scent of her, and the cherry blossoms before shaking my head.

  “You do not ever want to think of being king, do you?” she asked.

  “Being king means my father is gone, and my brother is gone. Being king means something went wrong. The spare is supposed to be a spare. The heir is supposed to be the next king. I did not even want to think of the day Arthur would be king. It was hard enough for me when he was the Adelaar. But I did my best to obey, to not get jealous or resent him. Instead, I completely and utterly looked away. I left all the work for him and my father. Any time they would ask me, I would joke and tease and make my escape. I didn’t want to think about it. And now...”

  “There is no escape.”

  I nodded, kissing her shoulder. “It almost feels like some sort of twisted karma. Like, had I been greedier, more invested, had I wanted it more, Arthur would have lived.”

  “Gale, nothing you could have done would have changed anything,” she said, gently turning around in my arms. “It is not your fault. I do not care what anyone says. Or how little you paid attention before. You are a good person. You are a good brother and a good—”

  “And a good lover?”

  She pinched my cheek. “And you will be a good king.”

  “And you will be a good queen.”

  “Ugh.” She hunched over and rested her head on my chest.

  “What?” I laughed. “You can tell me, but I can’t you?”

  “It’s just a big word. Queen. It makes all of me want to go hide.” Her shoulders tensed like she wished to hide back into her body.