by Marian Tee
The Other Prince
The prince had not called.
Not on the first day, not on the second, not on the third day. When I got to school, the prince was still on my mind, and I was struggling with feelings of hurt neglect.
Stepping out of the car, I bid Luke and the chauffeur goodbye. Hurrying towards the entrance, I smoothed my hand down my school jacket and skirt.
“Lady Ella?”
I looked up and fought not to show my dismay when I realized it was Prince Michael’s envoy. What was he doing here? I instinctively looked over my shoulder but the royal family’s limousine had long driven away.
Biting my lip, I turned around to face Prince Michael’s envoy. “Lord Barton, I---”
The nobleman handed me a letter. “I humbly ask that you take this letter, milady. It is all the prince asks.”
“But---”
“It is only a letter, it’s all the prince asks. Surely it’s not too much?”
Alarm bells rang inside my head.
But even so, I reached for the letter.
It was just a letter.
Surely my stepbrother prince wouldn’t mind?
The Return
A knock sounded on my door, and I called out, “Come in.”
It was another quiet afternoon after school, and I had spent all of it inside my bedroom. For a change, I was trying to work on the to-do list for royal stepdaughters. One of it had been embroidery. I had been at it for over an hour, but I hadn’t improved a bit. The piece of cloth in my hands was stained and contained more drops of my blood than pretty stitches.
A soldier came in and bowed stiffly.
Out of habit, I started to tell him he didn’t have to do that, but I managed to catch myself. What was the point? They really wouldn’t stop, not when he and the rest of the kingdom lived for and by its customs.
“Lady Ella, the prince requests your presence in the chamber.”
My needle paused mid-stitch as I tried to absorb what he was saying. Did he really say the prince was here?
“Lady Ella?”
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Did you, umm, say the prince wanted to talk to me?” The prince…who had promised to call me the moment he arrived at Geneva…but didn’t? Did he mean that prince?
“Yes, milady.”
I scowled. So I hadn’t heard him wrong then. The prince was indeed back.
I set aside my embroidery, fearing I’d end up bringing my needle with me just to prick the prince’s lying ass. “Isn’t he supposed to be still in the convention?”
The soldier beamed with pride. “The prince was such a great speaker, milady. He managed to make everyone vote for his proposal in just one day. Everyone signed yesterday, and so the prince was able to return early.”
“Oh. That’s great.” For the kingdom, I thought, but not for me.
The soldier seemed to sense my lack of enthusiasm and frowned. “Is something wrong, milady?” And then he paused, an awkward expression falling over his face.
I knew why, of course. The soldier had just remembered that I was the only one in the kingdom his beloved prince had never gotten along with.
Well, that had changed a few days ago but right now?
We definitely weren’t in good terms.
I came to the prince’s private chambers still in my school uniform. No way was I going to dress up for him, not after the way he had treated me.
The prince looked up the moment I entered the room, but I pretended not to notice it. I had missed him terribly, but no way was I going to let him know that either.
Walking further inside, I busied myself taking in my surroundings. It was my first time to be here, and I wasn’t surprised that his suite opened to an office-cum-living room. But while I had expected the usual dark colors and leather found in most men’s suites, the outer room turned out to be intimidatingly and unashamedly elegant, with gilded, cream-colored ceilings, walls enhanced by hand-stenciled artwork, rich damask curtains, and an exquisitely preserved Aubusson rug placed under the L-shaped velvet sofa in the corner.
It was a very functional room, and the only source of recreation offered was the mahogany bookcase in one corner, stacked with business literature and several nonfiction titles in English and Arabic. Classical music played in the background, with just the right volume to soothe the ears.
Something weird struck me, and I blurted out unthinkingly, “There’s no TV.”
Seated behind a curved glass desk, the prince nodded, saying simply, “I find it a distraction.”
I shook my head. “Figures.” He was one of the world’s most serious-minded princes, whose jet-setting lifestyle consisted of purely political trips abroad. I could search the Internet forever, and I knew I’d never find a photo of him, say, dancing in Sao Paolo, raving in Ibiza, or sailing his yacht in Alaska.
My gaze drifted to the prince’s desk, and another thing struck me – the lack of personal mementos. No framed photos, no souvenirs from his travels – there wasn’t anything but tons of paperwork, a huge-ass monitor, and a wireless keyboard.
It was a sad sight, but I pushed away all thoughts of pity. He wasn’t going to win any sympathy from me, not when he made me lose sleep almost every night, waiting for his call. He hadn’t even sent me a text message. Not even one!
“Lady Ella?” The prince’s tone was quizzical.
Reluctantly, I looked his way, unable to stop sulking.
His icy blue eyes narrowed. “You are…angry.” His tone actually held a note of surprise.
Bastard, I thought. Out loud, I asked sarcastically, “You think?”
“Why are you angry?”
The note of puzzlement in his voice made me scowl. “Very funny.” Did he really think I’d buy that?
The prince leaned back against the chair, a frown darkening his face. “Enough with the innuendos. If you really do not want to tell me then you wouldn’t have sulked so obviously.”
“You---” But my irritation was more because he was right. I wanted us to talk about how he had been an ass.
The prince crossed his arms against his chest. “Well?”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You promised you’d call!”
His eyebrow remain arched, his expression unimpressed. “And?” His tone bordered on bored.
I wanted to strangle him.
Astonishment flickered in his gaze. “That truly is the reason?”
God help me, I was this close to killing the prince.
“Come here,” the prince suddenly said.
I threw him a look of disgust. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Do not make me ask the second time, ukhayyah.” His voice lowered, his voice commanding and authoritative at the same time as he said, “Come to your prince.”
And just like that, it happened again.
One moment, I was mad as hell, the next moment I was panty-soaking wet and unable to do a thing about it. The prince only had to use that beautiful cruel voice of his, and I was aroused beyond belief.
The realization had me torn between self-loathing and helplessness. Why, God, why did he have this effect on me? He was the prince – someone out of my league, even though I was the new queen’s daughter. And worse, he was my stepbrother – to want him, to be aroused by him, was taboo.
So why was it that all I wanted to do now was stare at him? In my eyes, he was the most beautiful man alive and would always be so. Black hair that was amazingly soft to touch, a face that was perfectly carved, blue eyes that could seduce with just a glance…oh God, I could go on and on.
And then there was the prince’s body. Muscular was such an understatement, with the way every inch of his lean but powerful form had been toughened during his years in the army. Even now, with the prince dressed in loose traditional robes, there was no mistaking his strength, no mistaking the prince’s commanding aura---
“You are staring.”
I mentally cringed. Busted again.
“Also, you are ma
king it hard for yourself,” the prince admonished.
Cheeks still red from being caught staring, I asked, “What am I making hard for myself?” I genuinely didn’t understand.
“You’ve been staring from afar,” the prince answered lazily. “Why make it hard when you can come near and see everything…up close?”
I nearly expired at the words. God, how could he say such things with a straight face and get away with it? The words should have made him sound obnoxious but all I could think of was that it was true. I was making it hard for myself. Just a few steps and I could be near all that deliciously beautiful hardness---
The prince smirked. “You’re practically undressing myself now, ukhayyah.”
Aaaargh. I tore my gaze away. It was true!
He crooked a finger. “Come now. Do not make me wait any longer.”
Ugh. I wished I could deny him, just to dent his ego a little, but I couldn’t. The more arrogant he was, the more my stupid, sick self wanted him.
“Your face is an open book, ukhayyah,” the prince noted.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Don’t I?” the prince contested. “Right this moment, are you not hating yourself, unable to deny how much you want me?”
Shit. Not only were his words true but they also served to me throb down there even more. There was just something thrilling about the fact that the prince knew I wanted him.
The prince was looking at me knowingly, as if aware of how I struggled just not to drown in need of him. Suddenly, he laughed. “Stubborn and proud as always.” As he spoke, the prince’s gaze raked over my body, slowly, from head to toe.
When his eyes lingered on my breasts, I could feel my body reacting, my breasts becoming heavy with need at the attention it received. My nipples extended and as his gaze continued to caress that part of my body, my nipples turned pebble hard, making themselves prominent against my school shirt.
The longer he stared, the hotter I felt, the wetter I became.
Oh God, I was so wet, I felt like anytime it could start leaking down my legs.
The thought had my head reeling, and when I heard the prince speak again, my imagination had run into overdrive, making the prince’s words sound godlike – something to be obeyed without delay.
“Come, ukhayyah.”
I moved like a puppet at the command, slowly closing the distance between us. I had never been a weak girl. Even when it had felt like it was just Ruth and me against the world, I had never lost hope, never lost the courage to fight.
But with my stepbrother prince?
He was my weakness, my sickness, my obsession…and the prince knew it.
My knees were threatening to give out by the time I reached the prince. This close, I could see the undisguised lust glittering fiercely in his eyes, and I whimpered at the sight, the knowledge that my stepbrother prince wanted me as much as I wanted him causing a tingling sensation to run down my spine.
“Closer.”
At his whispered command, I took one last step towards him, which left me standing between his long, muscular legs. This close, I had to press my thighs together, a desperate but futile attempt to kill the gushing flow of wetness between my legs.
Kiss me. Don’t kiss me. The thoughts that ran inside my head were contradictory and confusing, making me fidgety and anxious. As the silence stretched between us, becoming unbearable, I finally looked up---
The first thing I saw was the prince’s smirk. You can’t wait for it?
Oh! I wanted to smack the smirk off his face, had even raised my hand to do so, but the prince moved too swiftly for me. The next thing I knew, the prince was already pulling me towards him, his hand around my nape. A second later and his mouth covered mine. I gasped again, but the sound was lost in his mouth. The kiss was deep and hard, and my toes curled as the heat from our fused mouths spread throughout my body.
The prince lifted his head, rasping out, “Open your blouse.”
The words gave me a little back of my sanity. Oh God, what was I doing…again? And after he had broken his promise, did he really expect me to roll over and do whatever he asked?
“No!” I tried to pull away, but his fingers snapped around my hips like chains, keeping me in place.
His eyes narrowed. “Open it.”
“Go to hell,” I snapped. “After what you---”
The prince growled, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.”
I froze.
“I’m not…used to this.” He glared at me, as if he held me responsible for making him admit such a thing. “I grew up, with my father breaking his promise to me over and over again, and his advisers here in the palace telling me that it is to be expected and that I should not be selfish. They have drummed it into my head that as a prince, I must understand the king will sometimes have to put the kingdom before me, the way I shall do so as well when I am king.”
Silence followed his rare and unexpected admission. I could only look at him, my heart aching a little as I read between the lines. No wonder he found it so easy to be cold and isolated, I thought. It was how he had been raised, and everyone had made it seem like it wasn’t wrong.
Releasing me from his hold, the prince raked a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of trouble. “Why do you not say anything?” His voice was almost accusing.
My heart still torn between aching for the prince’s isolated childhood and wanting to indulge in a self-righteous sulk, I chose my words carefully. “I see where you’re coming from, but…”
I looked at him helplessly. “I’m not sure I can manage not to be selfish. I can’t even honestly say I believe it’s bad to be selfish in this case.”
When the prince remained silent, I added in a rush, “I get it, you know. I get it that when duty calls, sometimes there’s no time to even eat or God forbid make a call to your stepsister. But three days, Your Highness. You were there three days and you couldn’t even manage one short text? Even just to let me know you’re safe and I’m not watching some dead ringer for you strutting about, acting like you, while you’re God knew where, bound and kidnapped---”
The prince blinked. “You’ve watched too much TV, milady.”
I glared at him. “The point is,” I hissed, “you should have called!” Like a normal boyfriend. “You should have known I’d be worried.” Like a normal girlfriend. “Because I…” Because I care, more than I should.
Tears pricked my eyes, and suddenly I felt so hopeless. What was I doing? Did I really think this would lead to anywhere?
The prince was stiff, his jaw clenched. “Because you…what?”
I couldn’t say it. “I need to go.” The prince was visibly stunned, but he had to realize that he wasn’t the only one who had the right to be moody. I started to turn away, but the prince caught me from behind and he yanked me towards him.
I stumbled backwards, my back hitting his chest. His arm circled my waist, imprisoning me in an embrace. “Because you what?” the prince demanded.
I shook my head.
He pulled me closer to him, in an embrace that shouldn’t be between us. “Tell me.”
I tried to struggle away, but his lips touched my ear, making me shiver. “Tell me---”
I choked out, “Because I care!”
We both stilled at my words.
But before the prince could answer, my stomach growled, the sound shattering the tense silence between us.
Oh. My. God. Did my stomach just do that?
The prince’s body was rocking against me with soundless laughter.
“Shut up.” I wanted to die.
This time, he laughed out loud.
“It’s only because I didn’t get to eat lunch,” I protested, shamefaced. “It’s not like I’m a glutton---”
“I know.” The prince’s voice had sobered. He turned me around in his arms, and when our eyes met, I saw that his had turned brooding. “You care too much for me.”
O
uch. No ordinary guy should have such confidence to say that with a straight face either.
But the prince could and did because he wasn’t any ordinary guy. The thought wanted me to face-palm myself. This is what you get, Ella, falling in love with a prince – and your stepbrother at that.
I forced a smile for the prince’s sake. “I know,” I told him simply. “I wished I didn’t, but…” I knew I didn’t have to finish it.
Moments passed, and I hoped and feared what he would say next.
But in the end all the prince did was stroke my cheek with his knuckles, murmuring, “Later, Lady Ella. Let’s dine together for now, and after, we will have that talk I promised you.”
The Talk
It was the most nerve-wracking meal I ever had.
Seated beside me, the prince had not spoken a single word as he ate, only nodding in thanks at the attendants who served our food and gazing at me broodingly all the while.
Although I had lost my appetite, I forced myself to eat, not wanting my stomach to complain again. When we were done, I almost collapsed in relief. Thank God that was over. I had no idea what had gotten into the prince to make him so moody, but I just hoped it wasn’t because he had changed his mind about…us.
“Come. We must talk about your plans for the Chamber of History.” He offered his hand as he spoke, and I took it, hoping he wouldn’t notice how clammy with sweat my palm was.
As we strolled out of the dining hall and headed up to his suite, I asked, “What plans?” It was the first time I heard of it.
The prince only answered when we were inside his private suite. Waiting for the door to close behind him, the prince said succinctly, “I lied.” He swept me up in his arms without warning, making me gasp. “It was just an excuse to take you here.” He kept walking as he spoke, taking me all the way to his bedroom.
The prince’s bedroom was as elegant as the outer room, but with more muted colors. The bed was huge – bigger than anything I had ever seen – and across it was a love seat with a luxuriously detailed frame. In one corner was another thick Aubusson rug, placed before a fireplace carved from marble and granite.
