But Nik’s face was everywhere I looked. Temptation was real, and hot, and certainly—well—tempting, but I couldn’t stop seeing his smile. It wasn’t anywhere specific, it was just there and I could almost hear his voice like he was right there next to me. And as much as it hurt to know that he wasn’t, it would hurt ten times more to pretend like he didn’t exist to me at all, even for the sake of a brief experiment in college flirting.
I imagined myself with Dev in front of me, or with any boy at the party, and I then I pictured me with Nik. And then I had my answer.
Things were hard; there were a lot of hurdles and I was asking a lot of the universe to try and make it work. But I wanted nothing else. I wanted to go through those struggles. Because those struggles were a part of the experience of Nik. And I finally figured out what people meant when they said they loved someone because of their flaws and not in spite of them. I wanted all the hardships and all the arguments and the tears and the tough times. At nineteen years old I knew what I wanted for the rest of my life, because Nik had been there for years and years before then.
So I kindly said goodbye to Dev and made my way out of the party alone, phone in my hand, and dialed Nik, not caring about the time difference.
“Hey, what’s up?” he yawned when he picked up the phone.
“Just—not much. I probably sound so needy when I call because I miss you.”
“Or when you’ve had a few.”
“How can you tell?”
“I know you better than I know myself.”
He was chuckling and I couldn’t help but smile. He talked to me the entire walk home about his day, about what he was trying to do about our unique situation.
“I did find one option,” he said. “But it’s incredibly unorthodox and I hated myself for hours for thinking about it and now I’m kind of kicking myself for even bringing it up to you now.”
“And what is that?”
He let out a long sigh and then there was a pause, during which I wasn’t entirely sure he was going to tell me.
“There is always the option of…abdication.”
I almost gasped out loud. I wasn’t royalty, but even I knew the kind of weight a word like that carried. If I hadn’t been drinking, I might have told him no, outright. I might have said that he couldn’t give up his birthright because of me. But with the alcohol singing in my system, I was more open to the possibility.
“I don’t even know why I thought about it—“
“What would happen if you did?” I asked, sliding my keycard into my door and unlocking it.
“The throne would pass to Sonia, which is such a huge responsibility on her, I could never ask,” he said.
But I could tell from his tone, he was working himself up to the idea. He wanted to, just to see what would happen if he did, the options that might appear if he gave himself a shot at freedom. So I decided, in my still slightly inebriated state, to pull at that thread and see where it led. Because I knew the answer. I knew Sonia.
“How do you think she would feel about that?” I asked, toeing off my shoes and dropping on my bed.
“I don’t even want to discuss it with her—“
“But let’s say, hypothetically, you do?”
He growled onto the phone and I heard a shuffling sound that meant he was sitting up. I had him awake and alert and frustrated now.
“I don’t know, we never talk about stuff like that,” he said, and I imagined him pacing the floor. “I took a vow. I said for the rest of my life I would protect and serve the nation, to back out on that for personal reasons…”
“Do you think Sonia would ever do it?”
“Do what?”
“Consider abdicating?”
“Of course not.”
I let that hang in the air for a second between us. I let the implications of it linger. Sonia had, by her own admission, been training her entire life to do the job Nik was meant to do if ever she was asked to step forward. There was a very real chance she would never get to use those skills and that expertise in life and would have to silently watch her brother from a corner, all because she was born a few years later by chance.
And Nik was right, Sonia would never in a million years think about abdicating for anyone or anything. It wasn’t a fault; she was someone who was born to be a ruler. She made it her priority in life in a way Nik never had and never could. It was a lot to saddle her with, it was a lot to ask, but she had spent her whole life preparing to be asked. Nik was a prince who became a king, she was a queen without a throne.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Nik said quietly, as if everything I had thought had passed between the both of us.
We gave sleepy goodnights over the phone before hanging up and I drifted off into a dream-filled sleep.
Chapter 11
There were two days in my life that made me more nervous than I had ever been. The first was a piano recital I had when I was eight and my mother had tried to force a musical education into my life. The second was the day I was standing in a mirror, looking at my own reflection in a shimmering, white gown.
I’d gone through four years of school, managed to get through my graduation without tripping, but this is what was frightening me now. I hated the idea of being watched, even if it was on my wedding day. So when I stepped out for the first time and walked down the aisle to the sound of light music and with several hundreds of pairs of eyes on me, I paid attention to just one person.
Nik was standing at the front, next to an altar and a bishop in an ornate getup. Nik was in his red full dress uniform, blue sash shining, with an ornamental saber at his hip. He looked every bit the dashing prince I remembered from childhood.
Rumors had spread fast about Nik’s abdication and most of the public had taken it negatively because it was seen, exactly how Nik had feared, as an act of childish selfishness. But we knew better, and so did Sonia. She had solemnly accepted what Nik suggested and she had promised to do the best job she possibly could to take his place. To which he told her that she should instead strive to be like a king who was actually great, like their father. And in that moment, I think we all felt the click of a wrong being set right.
And now here we were, several years later, just as we had said, and we still wanted this—to be together—just as badly as we did then. So I was walking down the aisle to meet him and become his wife forever. The ring he had bought me had finally found its way onto my finger and now I was going to add to it a gold wedding band that I’d refuse to ever remove.
The bishop gave the sermon in the native language of the country, which I was still learning. I had picked up bits and pieces but we had practiced the ceremony so many times I’d memorized what happened when, and what to answer back. Because of the seriousness of it all, the bishop had agreed to let me say my vows and speak in English since the words meant more to me in that language.
“It seems like you’ve always been a part of my life, and as I’ve grown, you’ve become the best part of it. I can’t think of anywhere I would rather be, and I know that it doesn’t matter where I am, as long as you are there with me. I promise to care about your needs and your feelings. I promise to listen to you, and I will try to give you wise counsel. I promise to be on your side, no matter what. I promise to love you forever.”
The vows weren’t the most poetic or orthodox, but they were coming from me, and that’s what mattered most, my mom said.
Nik’s turn came, and I was finding it hard to breathe. He paused, and squeezed my hands, as if asking me if I was ok. I smiled.
“Isabel, you have always been the other half of me, and today, after our long journey, we are finally one. You are my heart, my breath, and my soul. I promise that I will always take care of you, and I beg you never to leave me, because I would be completely lost without you. I extend to you my solemn vow that I will hold you dear and precious until my death, and beyond.”
Then came the phrase I had been waiting for and knew by heart, even if
the exact wording was lost on me. We leaned forward and sealed it all with a kiss, much like how it began years ago during a surprise weekend at my house. When we pulled away nothing had changed, but everything had. It had clicked into place. I was where I was supposed to be, beside Nik. As we turned to face the congregation, I couldn’t wait to begin our life together.
Afterword
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Also by Victoria Hart
A Royal Predicament
The Royal of Heledia (Book 2)
Excerpt from A Royal Predicament
It was the first time I’d been at a party and didn’t enjoy it. I was taught to excel at parties, to make myself as available for conversation as possible, and to know the names of as many people in the room as possible. I knew the home country of all the wine and the food and what dress would cause a scandal and what dress would keep people talking all night. It was part of my training, part of my education. Some kids sat in school and tried not to fall asleep while they learned about the quadratic formula, and so was I. But I was also sent to memorize types of China plates.
I was good at parties, but for the first time a party was for me – and I didn’t know what to do.
The coronation had gone off with engineered precision. I’d memorized the ceremony and my words in it since I was a child, even though there was no reason to think I’d need to know. The spare was a spare for a reason. But I think my parents always knew what they knew about . Our birth order should have been reversed. And in the end, it all worked out for everyone. He was happy with his fiancée, and I was given the position I’d trained myself for since I was a child. Everybody won.
Except for me, the night of this party in my honor.
I was glued to the throne at the head of the room, left to sit there and greet well-wishers as they came by. Every conversation went the same way. They walked up, they smiled, they bowed, they said congratulations, and then, having done their duty, they went off to a more fun part of the party. My duty never ended. I knew that was how it would be, though; it’s what I signed up for. I just didn’t think it would begin so strictly with having to sit still at my own party.
“Your Majesty,” Alexis said, standing with a straight back. He was training to take over the full position of majordomo from Demetrius. “The Duke and Duchess of Hanover.”
Two people that I’d known only from pictures stepped forward, decked out in as many colors and medals as you could imagine, bending a knee to bow low, just inches from the floor. They rose.
“Our most joyous congratulations to you, Your Majesty,” they said. I nodded, and they were off.
It was like that with all of them.
It was interesting to realize that none of them wanted to look me in the eye. I knew why. This was the most unorthodox coronation ceremony the country had ever seen. Back in the beginning of the 20th century, England faced its own abdication with Edward the VIII. It’d caused quite the stir and crisis, according to the history books.
’s abdication seemed to be causing a much quieter scandal. Like the English, the people here were too polite to make comments as my brother was announced and entered the room.
He’d taken a vow to protect the country and serve as its king until the day he died. He let that go – rather quickly – for a girl. That’s how the general public saw it, anyway. I, of course, knew that Isabel had been destined to be his wife since they were kids. As far as I could tell, our parents had known this too. It was on everyone’s minds and it was, perhaps, cruel of them not to stop to the train of and Isabel’s friendship from careening into romance, knowing what they knew about the rules governing a monarch’s consort. Perhaps my father assumed he’d be around to find a way to allow it to happen.
“Your Majesty, the Baron of…”
I vaguely paid attention, nodding. I was learning very quickly how to turn on autopilot and stay there. My father said he often got that way during social events where he was expected to stand in one corner and watch everyone else have fun. I just didn’t expect to have to master it so early.
From across the room, I watched and Isabel. He was dressed to the nines in his full dress uniform in various colors, with medals hanging from the lapels. She was dressed in an evening gown. One day soon, that evening gown would forever be marked with a blue sash denoting just who she was: a princess. Good for her; she had achieved every girl’s dream. She got to be the princess without ever worrying about becoming a queen.
always shone at social events, even knowing when the quiet gossip and sidelong glances at him might have made him a social pariah of the whole event. Many of my advisors had suggested that I not allow my brother to attend the coronation. I outright refused to bar him, because first and foremost, he was my brother. And to deny him entry would only fan the flames that I wanted to disappear entirely. I didn’t want to be remembered as a replacement monarch, and I didn’t want my brother to be forever labeled as the boy who was never ready to be king, and gave up before the going even got tough.
My duty was to protect my citizens and Nik was once again one of them. And besides, Isabel had done nothing to deserve any of this. I didn’t want to drag her down either, because she couldn’t help her friendships or who she loved. She was like family to me, and would officially be family soon.
I looked at the clock. It was nearly 21:00. The party was far from over, but surely the politics and duties of it were done for the night. There had to be business hours for this sort of thing. I was only human after all, even if the coronation was designed to make me seem godly. I believed in my divine right – that was the point of the coronation – but I didn’t feel very powerful up on that throne, watching everyone else carry on with their lives without me.
But then again, maybe that’s exactly how a god felt.
“Your Majesty,” said a familiar voice that, for once, wasn’t Alexis or Demetrius.
I saw my brother standing there with his slick, tamed hair and Isabel on his arm. They both dipped their knees and bowed in unison and I wanted to roll my eyes. He was taking it all very seriously, though, which was certainly a first for him. Perhaps Isabel was a better influence on him than anyone had dared to hope.
I nodded.
“How are you?” he asked in a much less formal voice, and I accepted the invitation to step down from the throne. I did so without even at glance at the advisors around me, who would tell me not to.
“Tired of standing there,” I said.
He smiled.
“I got the same way,” he said. “The trick is to not do it, of course. It’s not like anyone is going to tell you no. You’re the queen, after all.”
I nodded. He jerked his head toward the refreshment table, and I didn’t even let my better judgement have a say before I followed him and accepted the drink he put in my hand. I’d never been drunk and didn’t plan on getting that way tonight, but a few sips of wine might calm me down, just a bit.
“You look so good,” Isabel said. “I don’t really know how any of this is supposed to go, but you look great doing it.”
I was grateful for her compliment, even if it was clumsy. My mother would get her hands on Isabel soon and run her through all sorts of etiquette training and God knew what else. I’d revel in her kind ignorance of royal social events for a little while longer, while she was still wholly herself. No matter what promises were made, being royalty would change her – or force her
to change. That was something she was going to have to deal with.
“I try,” I said, shrugging.
“Most of it is looking good doing it,” Nik said. “Not that I would know too much, of course.”
That’s when he turned red and looked a little sheepish. I didn’t blame him. In handing over the succession, he’d given me a real gift: the chance to use the tools I’d been trained to use my entire life. I was grateful that he had the courage to say he couldn’t do it, and had offered me a chance to show what I could do – and be the leader our people needed.
But what I saw in his decision was not what the rest of the world saw. And try as I might, I could not change that for him, or shield him from it. The judgment of the public was something he was going to have to face on his own, and he seemed to understand that. And Isabel was there to keep him level. They were good together, or rather, she was good for him. I just hoped that in the long run, he was just as good for her.
“I don’t want to leave you to the vultures,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “But even from the corner of my eye I can see about five people waiting for the chance to spring in here and grovel at your feet.”
“Just don’t go too far, in case I need a rescue,” I said.
“You were always the one rescuing me,” he said winking.
He didn’t go too far, and I could feel his and Isabel’s eyes on me as I handled a slew of well-wishers and people just wanting my attention.
The entire night passed that way. Getting off the throne hadn’t done much except give people the chance follow me around until I paid attention to them. Nik and Isabel swooped in and out to offer me relief.
Letters from a Prince: The Royals of Heledia (Book 1) Page 17
