Royally Arranged (Bad Boy Royals Book 3)

by Nora Flite

  “Anything, I’m starving.”

  They bustled around, one of them giving me a chair to sit in at the marble island in the middle of the room. “We can bring a plate out to you in the dining room,” a girl offered.

  “No, this is fine.”

  They all shared a glance. The red-braided girl brought me a plate covered in way too much food: piles of potatoes, two biscuits, a huge chunk of pork loin, and a mound of green peas. Then she stood back with the other women, all of them watching me intently. I couldn’t eat all this food, but it told me what I had been wondering: they definitely assumed I was pregnant. It was sweet. And wasteful.

  Setting my fork down, I hopped off the chair. “I don’t want to eat with you staring at me like that. I’ll just take this up to my room.”

  “Yes, Your Highness, of course.”

  I was so disoriented by the way everybody was treating me. Was it just because I was pregnant? No, I realized with amazement. It’s because I’m the first queen to give them an heir in almost sixty years. None of the staff in this castle could remember taking care of a new baby. Certainly not these young girls, anyway. But all of them were excited by the prospect of a little prince or princess brightening their lives.

  A new weight pressed on my shoulders. It dampened my excitement about the budding life. This pregnancy was so early. So many things could happen at this stage. I could slip and fall, and when I thought that, I instantly became wary of the staircases. I took a wide berth around them as I entered through the main foyer. The guard wasn’t there; I breathed a little easier for that.

  Heading back to my room, I walked in and nearly slammed into Darla. “Oh!” she barked, clutching her chest. Her thin eyebrows hunkered down, and even in anger, she managed to look beautiful. “Where the hell did you go?”

  I lifted the plate up. “To get something to eat, why are you so upset?”

  “Because you . . .” She shook herself. “Never mind, just sit down and stuff your face, I guess.”

  Eyeballing her, I sat at the vanity, putting my plate down beside the vase in front of the mirror. Shoveling potatoes in my mouth, I waited for her to speak.

  She stood there with her arms folded, tapping her foot. Finally she dropped onto the bed and said, “Did you go look for Thorne?”

  I sat up a little straighter. “I did. Some guard told me that he wasn’t in the castle.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “No, just that he thought maybe he was with his dad. Which seemed weird to me. Those two don’t spend a lot of time together. What would they be doing at this hour?”

  Darla stuck her pinkie in her ear, wiggling around. “Hm.”

  “What, what are you humming for?”

  “Well, I have a theory, but you’re not going to like it.”

  I’d taken too big a bite; when I swallowed, it hurt. “Just say it.”

  Darla crossed her legs, her pink shoe bouncing up and down. “I haven’t seen that guy all day long. And I’ve been in the castle all day myself.” She stared me in the eye and shook her head. “Oh, Nova, I really don’t want to say this out loud. But I’m thinking he saw the newspapers this morning, the stuff about you being pregnant, and—”

  I dropped my fork onto my plate loudly. “If you’re trying to say that he got scared and ran, there’s no way.”

  “I don’t know. Like I said, I really hate even thinking this, but that guy, I mean, come on. It’s not like he’s father material. And he didn’t want to be king, he doesn’t like responsibility, right? Being a dad is about as responsible as you can get.”

  I stood up suddenly, the chair rocking from how quickly I’d done it. “Get out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said get out. I’m not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the man that I married. Thorne is going to be a dad. We’re going to raise this kid.” I loomed over her. The surprise in her eyes was satisfying; I pointed at the door. “Leave, and the next time you talk about Thorne, you better watch what you say.”

  Darla considered me for a minute before she rose from the bed. Dusting herself off, she lifted her hands and sighed. “Fine, whatever. You don’t have to believe me. But if I’m right . . .” She didn’t finish, just opened the door, and as she did, I saw that the guard was standing outside again. He glanced at us, then fixated on the far wall. Darla shut the door behind her and left me alone.

  I didn’t eat any more of my food. My appetite was gone again, but at least it wasn’t replaced by nausea. I was just too angry to think about eating. Sliding back under the covers, I checked my phone and felt a stab of pain when Thorne still hadn’t replied.

  I sent him one more text, saying that he should come see me when he was free.

  And then I sent another text two hours later, wishing him a good night.

  He didn’t respond to any of them before I fell asleep again.

  - CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT -

  NOVA

  A new day.

  No news from Thorne.

  I’d woken up feeling a rising unease. It had sunk its claws into my belly, holding tight and giving me no relief. When my mother came looking for me, it took her a bit to find me, because I’d slipped out of my room and down to the garden.

  The sun wasn’t high enough yet to burn off all the dew. Crouching by the vibrant plants, I gently cupped a white rose. It was open to its full extent, eagerly awaiting to soak up the sunlight. It reminded me of how open I’d been the day Thorne had made love to me in the hedge maze.

  I heard my mother’s steps when she was a long way off. I didn’t look up, I just sniffed the flower and closed my eyes. “Nova?” she said, then, more firmly, “What are you doing out here alone?”

  “I don’t need someone with me at all times. I’m pregnant, not an inmate trying to bolt.”

  “The way you keep running off, I wouldn’t know.” She blew out some air in exasperation. “Come inside and eat breakfast.”

  I opened my eyes, studying the layers of petals on the rose. “He still hasn’t spoken to me. I haven’t seen him in two days, Mom.”

  Going silent, she wrapped her woven cover-up around her thin body. “Did you consider that he might be hiding?”

  That got my attention; I stared up at her. “From what? Me?”

  She held my gaze calmly. “Or from something he’s ashamed of. Come inside. There’s hot tea and pastries waiting in your room.”

  “I don’t want to sit in my room any longer.”

  “Then my room. Or Darla’s. Just come into the castle, please.”

  Unfolding from the grass, I dusted off the knees of my soft pink pants. My mother judged me with her eyes—seeing my messy hair, my lazy outfit. But I didn’t care what she thought. Not about that, anyway. What she’d said about Thorne was burning in my mind, refusing to be put out.

  What would he be ashamed of? I knew him as a brave man. Embarrassing him was as likely as knocking down a building with a baseball bat; he turned every insult around on his attackers. But her suggestion bothered me deeply.

  We ended up sitting in my mother’s room. Darla, Richard, and Larchmont joined us to eat. My father came, too, all of us gathering in a way we hadn’t in some time. I listened to them talk, my mind wandering. The food didn’t register on my taste buds.

  From a distance I watched my family. My siblings were sitting across from me, their heads together, voices low. Their discussion was intense, and it drew a severe glare from my father. “Shh,” he finally said to them. “Not now. Nova.” I slid my eyes to him. “Are you feeling better today?”

  Putting on a mild smile, I sipped from my cup of tea. “I guess. Less sick.” Just as confused.

  He looked satisfied, edging his chair back from the table we’d arranged in the huge room. “I should get going. Lots to do today.”

  “Like what?” I asked, stirring my cup.

  “Boring, but necessary, business.” Rebuttoning his jacket, he moved to the exit. My mother followed him, speaking in his
ear as he opened the door. I was watching, but even if I wasn’t I would have heard the ruckus outside. Something was stomping, drawing closer, multiple voices talking at once.

  My parents, standing in the doorway, froze where they were. Shoving out of my seat, I hurried toward them, leaning around to see what they were seeing. Nearly upon us, rolling like a train, were Maverick and Carmina, and at their heels was Glen with two other men I didn’t know following closely.

  “Kurtis!” Maverick roared, his voice echoing in the hallway. A few servants slid closer to the walls, heads down, listening as they tried to become invisible. The huge man pulled up short in front of my father, who, as usual, kept his face serene. “Where is he? Where’s my son?”

  I inhaled sharply. They don’t know where he is, either?

  My father held his head as high as possible. He and Maverick were identical in height, but where one was lean, the other was all bulky power. If Maverick swung, I predicted my dad’s head would fly right off. “Why do you sound like you’re accusing us?”

  “Because I am,” he snapped. “Two days and no word from him! No response to our calls, no one has seen him on the castle grounds, nothing!”

  “What makes you think we’d be involved?” Mom asked, standing loyally at Dad’s side.

  “When are you ever not?” Carmina had stepped forward, the four of them squaring off in the long hallway.

  I’d been blocking the doorway into the room behind me. A hand pressed on my arm; Larchmont maneuvered me aside so he could leap into the mess. His hands were folded behind his back, where I knew he kept his gun. I had a sudden, awful premonition that he was going to use it.

  His hand moved; he was not grabbing his weapon but coming forward, covering his mouth as he cleared his throat politely. “This is getting really tense out here. You even brought your personal guards, did you really expect a fight?”

  Maverick twisted, eyeing my brother like he was a dirt speck on the rug. “That depends on how you answer our questions.”

  “Ask away,” Kurtis said.

  Holding out an arm to encourage some space, Glen stood between my family and the others. His green eyes rested on us one by one. When it was my turn, I shivered. “All we’re looking for is a lead. The king has gone missing, that’s a problem for everyone. When did you last see him?”

  No one spoke. They were all looking at me. If they saw the papers, they know I was with him the other night. “Don’t dodge around it. You all read the rumors about the pregnancy. Thorne was with me at that restaurant, he took me back here, said good night, then that was it.” Fumbling for my phone, I showed it to them. “He texted me, but never responded.”

  Carmina went pale. “He sent these messages yesterday morning? That’s really the last time you spoke?”

  Her worry mirrored my own. But when I tried to reach out for her, she closed off, not willing to completely let go of her suspicion about me. I didn’t blame her, but her silent accusation ripped my heart into tiny pieces.

  There was motion beside me in the room; Darla had drawn close, her sweet perfume clogging my nose. “You guys have some balls, blaming us for your failing-upward son. He probably ran off when he saw the same rumors splashed across the papers that you all have.”

  Maverick breathed in until his chest rose. He eyeballed me, searching my face. “Is it true, then? Are you . . .”

  “Now isn’t the time,” Kurtis cut him off. “Not when you’ve come to our doorstep with violence on your minds.”

  Larch crossed his arms, shrugging. “I don’t know why everyone is stressed. I’m sure Thorne will show up. A guy like him is too annoyingly loud to stay missing for long.”

  Maverick turned away, lowering into a huddle to speak with his wife and Glen. With one more glance at us, they retreated down the hallway. “Good riddance,” Larch mumbled.

  Our father hooked an arm around Larchmont’s shoulders, leading him down the opposite hall. “Come with me.”

  “Wait,” I said, following them, shutting Darla and Richard in my mother’s room as I went. “Isn’t this something we should be discussing? Even Thorne’s parents don’t know what’s happened to him.”

  “Nova.” My mom patted my shoulder. The other two hadn’t slowed down, ignoring me as they walked off to talk on their own. “Go to my room. Eat. Rest. Your job is to take care of growing this baby.”

  Cradling my flat tummy, I gritted my teeth. “This baby? It’s Thorne’s baby. And he should know about it. He should be here!”

  “But he isn’t.” Her words were clipped. The discussion was over. I watched her as she swayed after my father and brother. If I was familiar with any part of my mother, it was the back of her smooth head. I’d seen it numerous times.

  I feel like I’m losing my mind. How could Hawthorne go missing? This wasn’t something small. He was the king! He was my husband. He was . . . he was going to be a father. I had to find him.

  Unsure what to do next, I wandered back to my mother’s room. I had it partially open when I heard my siblings squabbling inside.

  “Just let me—come on!” Darla grunted, yanking something out of Richard’s hands. She leaned whatever it was—a phone?—over the bed. She was taking a photo of something there. With a proud grin, she winked at Richard and typed something. “Aaaand . . . send. There. Now the madness can happen.”

  “What madness?” I asked, entering fully into the room. Darla and Richard both stared at me. His expression was flat, but hers was wild. I knew that face; it was the one she made whenever she got caught doing something bad. “Darla . . . what are you . . . ?” She was paralyzed. I glanced at the phone in her hand. I recognized it, but that was impossible. “Why do you have Thorne’s phone?” I asked with mounting distrust.

  My nerves went haywire. In slow motion my sister hid the phone behind her back, her attention darting to the bed. I was moving faster than she was. On another level, fueled by a rising paranoia. Before she could stop me, I’d snatched the photo off the blanket.

  It was a shiny picture. In it, plain as day, was Thorne with his pants low around his hips from behind, his tattoos peeking between the material and his shirt. He was standing in the cemetery, and I knew what—and who—he was doing.

  “Nova, wait,” Darla said, lifting her hands in front of her. I glanced at the phone again—so did she. “This isn’t . . . I was only trying to save your dignity!”

  “My dignity?” I repeated, so lost I was feeling ill. Or maybe that was from the pregnancy. “What the hell is going on in here? Someone explain. Now.”

  Sputtering, my sister twirled a hand by her head, searching for words that she could scoop up and use. Her own were failing her. “Don’t get so pissy at me! I’m the only one who wanted you to know the truth about Thorne.” Snatching the photo from me, she stuck it in my face. “It’s hard to look at, I’m sure, but this is the real him! The kind of guy who’d bang a streetwalker in the royal cemetery isn’t good enough to be a dad or your husband.”

  Lifting my eyes from the photo, I glared at Darla, then Richard. He shrank under my furious stare. “This streetwalker is me.”

  “Oh shit,” she whispered. “Well . . . it’s fine. No one I sent it to can recognize you if we didn’t.”

  “Who did you send this photo to?”

  “Just a few contacts I’ve made at the local papers.” She shrugged casually. “This city is obsessed with scandal. It’d be sad if it wasn’t so fun.”

  A horrific block clogged my esophagus, then moved to my throat before coming out as a shuddering gasp. “How could you hurt me like this?”

  “Hurt you? I was trying to help you.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t know it was you in the photo with him. Larchmont thought it was a prostitute—which Thorne did meet with, by the way—and she apparently lied to get some money out of this. My point is, only Thorne gets in trouble for breaking the law.”

  Grabbing Thorne’s phone, I shook it at her. “Him being in trouble hurts me!”

  S
he blinked owlishly. “Huh? I don’t get it.”

  “Of course you don’t,” I snapped. “You’ve got no idea what it means to feel the way I do about someone. I don’t know if you’re even capable of it. You’re selfish and empty inside.”

  Lost for a response, Darla gaped at me. Then she eyeballed Richard, but he offered no help. In front of my eyes I watched her mind working. Darla could never take, had never taken responsibility for her actions. But she was good at deflecting. “If you want to be angry, aim it at Larch and Rich. They did way worse to Thorne than I did.”

  As I watched him, Richard’s face crumpled. He avoided my eyes, staring out the window. “Richard,” I said, drawing out his name. He still didn’t look at me. “What did you do to Thorne? Where is he?”

  “Nova,” he whispered, like my name caused him pain. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought he’d . . . Larch made it so easy to believe that guy was scum.”

  “Where is he?”

  “The private holding quarters. It’s a small room downstairs, only the royal guards use it.”

  My sister reached out for me. “Wait—Oh, my phone.” She slid out the black-and-pink mobile, checking it instead of grabbing me. “Fuck! Wow! That picture I sent is blowing up all over. It’s been shared two thousand times online already!”

  Her glee disgusted me. But I didn’t have time to waste on calling her out.

  I had someone to find.

  Someone who needed to know he hadn’t been forgotten.

  - CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE -

  HAWTHORNE

  Lying on that stiff bed, barely able to move without pain shooting through my face, I stared at the plain gray ceiling. No one had spoken to me since I’d been left here. A guard had opened the door a crack late last night to shove a cup of water and some bread inside, but he had avoided looking at me during the exchange.

  I wondered if those men who’d stood by, listening to me get pummeled, regretted any of it. Did they really hate me because I’d fucked someone in their sacred graveyard? I didn’t think the ghosts gave a shit. I should have worried more about real flesh-and-blood people, apparently.