My Royal Sin

by Riley Pine

  I hum softly as I try to convince myself this isn’t a dream.

  “I don’t need to see what lies beyond the walls of the roof,” he says. “Not when I have the most beautiful view of all of Edenvale right here. Just for me.”

  He kneels next to me and takes off his shirt, his taut muscles rippling in the glint of the rising sun. I run my fingers atop the dusting of dark hair on his chest, and he sucks in a breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, letting instinct overpower logic. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t apologize for putting action to your desires. You have the freedom to do so. I only wish I had the same.”

  He dips his head toward mine and kisses me. I taste the bitterness of coffee, delicious on his tongue, emboldening me to wrap my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. Water and rose petals slosh over the lip of the tub, soaking his pants.

  I let him go, and we both laugh, the sound of his happiness something I have not heard before.

  “Sorry!” I cry, my hand flying to my mouth as I only laugh harder. “This is all just a lot—the roof, the roses, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen kissing me at sunrise. I’m a little out of my element, and I guess I got carried away.”

  His laughter subsides, and he collects himself. “Most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?”

  I touch him on the shoulder, on his very muscular, naked shoulder. “Now you’re going to tell me you don’t read the papers or watch TV.” He arches a brow. “Okay, fine. You probably don’t watch television because it’s pleasurable, and I get it. Deny, deny, deny. But come on, Benedict. Despite your holy calling, the women in this kingdom are mad for you.”

  “Ah,” he says, leaning back on his heels. “So I am some sort of celebrity fantasy to you?”

  I roll my eyes and groan. “No. I mean, yes. You are beautiful to look at, but two days ago that meant nothing more to me than having a pleasurable view while I tried to seduce you.”

  “And now?” he asks with a wry smile. “Everything has changed in a mere thirty-six hours?”

  Impossible, I think. But yes.

  I rest my hand on his chest and let his heart beat against my palm for several long seconds.

  “So much of your beauty lies in here,” I say. “And I’m honored to be one of the few who get to see it.”

  He stands, staring at the pants that are soaked against his long legs. Then he shrugs and steps over the lip of the tub, lowering himself in across from me.

  I yelp with laughter. “What are you doing?”

  He reaches over the edge for a copper pitcher and fills it with the rose-infused water.

  “I’m going to wash your hair.”

  He scoots forward, his legs crossing over mine. Water sloshes over the edge, spilling onto the roof, and I swear I’ve never felt happier.

  He pours the pitcher over my head, then massages my scalp with hands that are strong and full of purpose. Yet I also feel a gentleness in his touch, one I’ve not experienced since the days when my father was alive.

  “What about shampoo?” I ask, even as I moan with pleasure.

  “These roses are from the palace garden,” he says. “There is nothing softer or more beautiful than the aroma of their perfume. I’ve also added some essential oils to the water, which will soothe and nourish your scalp.”

  I tilt my head into the cradle of his hands and sigh, the tension of last night evaporating with the steam.

  “Benedict,” I say softly.

  “Yes?” His hand caresses my cheek.

  “Thank you for holding me this morning.” His eyes widen. “I remember the nightmare starting again, and I know it was you who chased it away. It’s okay,” I assure him as I watch his eyes turn dark with worry. “I’m glad you were there.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says, his voice hoarse.

  “Come,” I say, grabbing his shoulders and urging him to turn around. The welts on his back have gone down, but angry bruises remain. I kiss each one before pulling him to me, his back against my breasts, his head cradled against my shoulder. “Let someone hold you for once.”

  I kiss his temple, and he nods. Without another word, we lie there together, watching the sun crest over the snowcapped peaks. I’m certain we would have stayed there all day, or at least until the water was too cold to bear. Instead, just as the whole roof is bathed in the morning glow, I hear the door burst open behind us.

  “Highness!” X calls. “I’ve found the map.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Benedict

  EVANGELINE IS NESTLED in an oversize leather chair in the library. Her freshly washed hair streams over her shoulders. Her small feet poke from the bottom of my bathrobe. The red paint is chipped on her left big toe. Something about the sight is endearing, yet I can’t explain why.

  X clears his throat, an understated reminder of why he called us in from the tower roof. Even now my pulse pounds, making it hard to focus on the easel dramatically covered by a white sheet.

  “You have our attention,” I observe wryly. “Now on with the show.”

  He ignores my verbal poke and turns to Evangeline. “I have reason to believe that beneath this sheet is the reason why your father was murdered and your brother, Jasper, was taken prisoner.” X pulls away the sheet and there is my painting of my guardian angel.

  A confused silence follows.

  “I was gifted this piece by my brother Nikolai last year for Christmas. He respects my interest in art collection even if he doesn’t share the passion.”

  “Nikolai didn’t realize what he was buying you—it is beyond the value of money,” X says. “There are people who’d stop at nothing to own this piece.”

  “It is priceless,” I answer. In less than a month I will take my final vows. This portrait of a younger Evangeline will be my reminder that our time together ever occurred.

  X clicks his tongue in irritation. I’ve never seen him like this, as if reaching the edge of his legendary composure. “My sources have learned that Jasper, Evangeline’s brother, intentionally sold it to Nikolai. We think it was intentional, to keep the piece from falling into the wrong hands. He must have decided that the well-protected walls of Edenvale Palace would make the perfect hiding place.”

  Evangeline rises and pads across the room, her mouth creasing in a small frown.

  “My God. Look!” Her hand flies to her mouth. “The necklace.”

  “Yes!” X exclaims. “Yes, exactly. You see what I mean!”

  “It cannot be,” she says. “It’s a legend.”

  X’s face is dark with repressed emotion. “Is it?”

  “Do you two mind speaking plainly?” I rise and join them. The image is the same one that I’ve seen on my wall a thousand times. A sad-eyed ethereal beauty rising above the wasteland of a terrified populace fleeing a handsome young man.

  “The angel is wearing a necklace with a vial. A vial of golden water,” Evangeline says slowly. “Look, it’s there, half-hidden amid the folds in her robe.”

  “Golden water?” I chuckle. “From what? The Spring of Youth? That’s an old story. Surely if there were such mineral compounds in nature that could keep a person looking young while prolonging life, they would have been patented by major American pharmaceutical companies. They would be worth billions, if not trillions of dollars to a society devoted to worshipping youthful beauty.”

  The fabled Spring of Youth was said to exist beneath Edenvale in a cavern deep beneath the earth. The specific combination of minerals were said to delay the effects of aging, but it came with a price—whoever drank the elixir would live longer but slowly lose their mental faculties, descending into paranoia and madness.

  “Edenvale is a land of ancient secrets. Perhaps this artwork provides a rare answer,” X says.

  Evangeline touches the corner of the painting. “Father loved symbol
ogy. Look at the street signs—Detour and This Way. The angel also raises two fingers. I had always assumed it was in benediction, but it could also be read as—”

  “A sign of The Order.” X’s expression is deadly serious.

  “The Order?” I frown at their excited faces. “As in the Knights of The Order?” They cannot be serious. “The secret society of legend?”

  “Charged with protecting the realm. The best knights of Edenvale once vied to be selected for the honor. This painting somehow links to The Order and provides a key to the map. But how?” Evangeline speaks almost to herself.

  I feel as if we are discussing the existence of Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. “The Order hasn’t existed since the Dark Ages.”

  “Some say the members have gone underground,” X says gravely. “Secretly protecting the realm to this day.”

  “From what?” I ask. “Magical water?” I would think he was teasing me except for the fact his lips don’t twitch.

  X nods at the dystopian landscape, the violence. “That.” His tone deepens with a strange intensity. “To live on young and beautiful, even with the threat of madness? Many despots would be tempted by such an opportunity.”

  Evangeline blinks. “My father is hiding something here behind the canvas. If only I had something sharp to open it in the back...”

  “Like this?” X pulls a four-inch steel blade from his trouser pocket, the edge sharpened to deadly perfection.

  Evangeline’s mouth opens, then closes. I chuckle and shake my head.

  “Do not try to make sense of a man such as X,” I say, then turn my gaze to the man himself. “Nikolai needed a bodyguard with all his public escapades. I’m not sure I need protection from anything at all, but it’s good to know that if I do, you’re more than prepared.”

  Evangeline clears her throat. “Perfect.” She reaches for the blade and raises her brows in a quizzical expression. “May I?”

  “It would be an honor to watch Vernazza’s daughter at this moment.” X’s voice is grave.

  She slides the knife along the back of the frame. Her movements are quick and assured. At last she pauses, wipes her forehead. “Here goes nothing.”

  Peeling back the paper, she reveals what I never could have fathomed—a map written in black ink, the paper yellow with age...and in the center is a symbol of a spring, and written beneath it in gold leaf script are the words aquas vitam aeternam.

  “Waters of Eternal Life,” I translate.

  Evangeline

  “Waters of Eternal Life.” Tears spill from my eyes, but I’m careful not to let the salt water drip onto the map. Benedict has his prayer books, but this—for me—is the most sacred of texts.

  “Oh, Papa,” I say, my fingers carefully skimming the parchment. “What did you die to protect?”

  A warm hand caresses my shoulder, and Benedict presses a soft kiss on top of my head. I want to turn to him, to bury my face in his chest, but I’m transfixed by the vision before me. An angel, ageless faces and the key.

  “It’s like losing him all over again,” I say, sniffling. I run the sleeve of Benedict’s plush bathrobe across my eyes. “And now to know that I’m not crazy, that this wasn’t all some terrible nightmare that has plagued me for a decade...” I spin to face both of them now. “It’s real, right?”

  X nods, and Benedict runs his fingers through my hair.

  “Realer than real,” he echoes, but my prince’s words are not a question.

  “What now?” I ask.

  X takes a step forward and carefully pulls the map from the frame.

  “Well,” he says, brows raised as he holds the map out for all of us to see.

  I squint at the lines of text above a map that leads who knows where. “Are those even letters?”

  “It looks more like code,” Benedict says.

  X shakes his head. “In all my linguistic studies, I’ve come across this but once. Were it in Portuguese or Uzbek, I’d have had this translated before you finished peeling back the painting. But this—this will take some time.”

  I nod, but I cannot hide my disappointment or the new wave of tears it brings.

  “So that map is real,” I say, “but we don’t know where it leads or what my father and brother were protecting?”

  What does the Madam want with this map? Or worse—who is she working for? I’ve heard many whispers of her connection to Nightgardin, Edenvale’s centuries-old enemy.

  It’s up to me now to protect what my father sacrificed his life for. I must protect the wonderful, caring prince who’s been protecting me, which means keeping this map to the legendary Spring of Youth from falling into the wrong hands.

  X bows his head toward Benedict. “Your Highness, I can decipher this code. It may take a few days, but it can be done. Take Miss Ruby—I mean, Evangeline—to your brother’s old quarters in the palace. I do believe both of you will be safer within its fortified walls.”

  The prince scoffs. “The tower has never been breached.”

  “This is no time for pride, Highness. You may not think you need protecting, but she does.”

  He nods and snakes his fingers through mine. “You’re right. We will head to the palace at once.”

  He squeezes my hand and starts to lead me from the library, but I stop in my tracks.

  “My family,” I say. “Jasper’s wife and daughter. They could be in danger, too.”

  All Benedict has to do is give X a look, and the other man nods.

  “We will send men from the Palace Guard to keep watch.”

  This is enough to satisfy me. Benedict retrieves a coat from his chambers and throws it over my shoulders before I finally let Benedict lead me away. By the time we get to the future king’s annex, the one where he lived before he and Kate married, all of my belongings from the cottage are already there.

  I call Camille to check in and breathe out a sigh of relief when I hear her voice.

  “I think we can help Jasper,” I tell her. “Maybe even free him.”

  She gasps. “But—how?”

  “I can’t say too much right now, but know that the prince and his guard are helping us, and we will have Jasper home soon. Just promise me you and Lola will lie low until I call again in a couple of days, and speak nothing of this to anyone. I love you both.”

  She agrees, and I decide not to tell her about the guards being sent over, since I don’t want to frighten her. They’ll be there, surrounding their apartment building but hidden, looking after her and Lola, and that’s what’s important.

  When I end the call, I notice I’m standing alone in the annex’s kitchen, that Benedict has given me privacy to tend to my family matters. I swallow the knot in my throat and send a message to the Madam.

  Haven’t found it yet, but the prince and I are growing closer. He’s beginning to trust me. I should have what you need soon.

  The response is immediate.

  I am growing impatient, girl. If I find out you’re lying, you’ll have more to worry about than me marring that pretty face of yours. I have very influential friends. It won’t take much for me to get to the people you care about.

  I wrap myself tightly in the oversize coat, breathing in Benedict’s scent as I realize the gravity of my lies—that one misstep could mean Jasper’s life...or my own.

  I take off the coat and pad down the hall to what I know will be a lavish bedchamber compared to Benedict’s, but what I’m greeted with is far beyond my expectations.

  My hand flies to my mouth, and Benedict grins.

  “I thought maybe this would help get your mind off the map for a bit.”

  He stands next to an easel, a blank canvas leaning against it, and beside it, a table full of paints.

  “How?” I ask. It’s more than what he’s given me. It’s that his gift is exactly what I need right now. How can this
stranger somehow know me so well?

  He shrugs. “The palace does have its perks. It’s simply been a long while since I’ve wanted to take advantage of them.”

  I stride toward him and don’t even hesitate when I wrap him in my arms and squeeze.

  “Thank you,” I whisper into his chest. “Thank you, Benedict.”

  He stands frozen before pulling me in even tighter.

  “Anything for you, angel,” he says, and for the moment, I actually believe it.

  I look up at him, his eyes an enchanted forest of green.

  “But I don’t want to paint the canvas,” I say, and his brows draw together. “I want to paint what I see in your eyes—paint you.”

  He says nothing as he removes his T-shirt, baring his chest to me.

  “You have not put your collar on since the other night,” I say.

  He shakes his head.

  “And this is okay?” I ask, reaching for a tube of green paint and squeezing it onto a palette. I dip a brush in, swirling it around, and then bring it to his chest, where I paint one single leaf.

  Still no words, but he nods, backing toward the four-poster bed.

  “But the linens,” I say.

  “Fuck the linens.”

  He lowers himself to a ruby-red duvet.

  I gather the colors of my forest onto the palette and lay it on the bed. Then I climb over him, brush in hand, parting my robe so I can straddle his legs.

  He is hard beneath his pants, and I...I am bare but for the material draped over me, on fire for my prince, for this man.

  “Stop me if it’s too much,” I say, and he grabs my wrist.

  “Paint first. Then I’m going to tell you what I would do to you if I could.” He unties the robe completely, letting it fall off my shoulders. “How many times I’ve looked at that painting, wondering if such beauty truly existed in the world. Now here you are. An angel in disguise. In another time, Evangeline—”