by Caroline Lee
“I’m making tacos.”
Dad scowled. “I hate tacos.”
“Yes, I know.”
Queen Viktoria made a difficult-to-identify noise, and turned her head towards the window so no one could see her expression. Was she laughing? Alek’s lips were turned up slightly, and even Marina was smiling.
Arne shifted forward on the couch. “We were just discussing the Regatta, Cassandra. You’re welcome to stay.”
Oh. “Um, I think Kristoff might be the better choice—” she began.
Marina interrupted with a wave of her hand. “We were actually discussing the disturbing events surrounding the engagement announcement concert.”
“Disturbing events?”
Cass had heard Dad saying something, but she’d been too wrapped up in the whole Ohmigawd I’m actually seeing Fuchsia live! thing. Of course, Cass hadn’t realized the sweet lady Arne had brought to meet the family was really the world-famous, triple-gold idol of her college years—which is why Dad had insisted on hiring her, because he hadn’t realized his daughter wasn’t twenty-one anymore and maybe her tastes had changed.
Arne was the one who answered the question. “For a while we weren’t sure if the concert would actually happen.” As the Minister of Culture, it’d been his job to make sure it did, which is how he met Emma. “The workers went on strike—based on a miscommunication—some valuable equipment went missing, and remember how the power went out? That was no accident.”
Alek shifted to take control of the conversation. “That, combined with my kidnapping earlier this summer—where the demands were explicitly to denounce Mother’s remarriage—made us wonder if someone is still trying to keep the wedding from happening.”
Cass frowned in confusion. “Yeah, but those two things—”
“Very different, yes.” Alek agreed. “And sabotaging a concert wouldn’t stop the announcement from being made some other way.”
Marina flipped through the bundle of papers on her lap. “Which is why I think the concert was just coincidental.”
Dad scoffed. “Please. Someone didn’t want us to make that announcement.”
“Or…” Cass said thoughtfully. “Maybe someone was trying to make you look bad?”
Arne nodded. “That’s what I suspect, too. A campaign to discredit the Royal family.”
“So what we need to ask ourselves,” Alek said, “is what the next target will be. If this is a campaign, the perpetrators won’t give up. They’ve hit us once personally—my and Toni’s kidnapping—and once publicly.”
It was making sense now. “And you think whoever it is will hit you publicly again, at the Regatta?”
Alek shrugged. “We’re hoping not, because midsummer celebrations are national holidays in Aegiria. The beaches will be packed, and not just for people watching the race. And then there’s the party on the Royal yacht that evening. There are any number of chances for someone to cause mischief to either make us look bad or to try to stop the wedding.”
“Or worse,” Arne said grimly.
The nods from those gathered told Cass this was serious. “So, what are you going to do?”
Queen Viktoria cleared her throat, and when she spoke for the first time, everyone deferred to her. “We will increase security dramatically. Call in the Guard, have them stationed along the shore and patrolling the bay.”
Marina frowned slightly. “People will notice and rumors will start.”
“They don’t have to be in uniform,” her sister shot back.
“But if they are noticed and people become suspicious—”
“Then our people will know we care about their safety!” Viktoria snapped, exasperated. “We cannot allow something dangerous to happen at a public event like this. It was a miracle no one was hurt during the concert when the power was cut. A spectacle like the Regatta—at a time like this—has the potential to be disastrous, and not just to our image.”
Alek spoke quietly from his place by the window. “Our people’s lives are more important than what they think of us.”
Another round of silent head-nodding, and the somber mood of the room made Cass itch to leave once more.
“Um…Kristoff is really the one to talk to about this. He’s helping the committee plan the Regatta.” The race was next week, and surely the committee would need to be made aware? “I’m really just here, to…uh…”
Well, to find out if Dad was expecting her at the apartment for dinner, or if she could spend another night with Kristoff. But she couldn’t exactly say that.
But the queen seemed to understand what hadn’t been said. Her smile was both indulgent and enigmatic when she nodded. “You’re here because we’re about to be family, dear. We would value your input.”
“Oh. Um…” Cass was already backing towards the door. “Then, I guess…I think if you really are concerned with some kind of madman doing something to the race, or the spectators, then it’s important to protect people.” She bumped into the door, and her hand fumbled almost unconsciously for the knob. “But I don’t see what interrupting the Regatta would do, if this guy’s intentions are about stopping the wedding.”
“You’re right.” Arne nodded. “Disrupting the Regatta might make the royal family look bad, but it wouldn’t do anything to stop the wedding.”
Alek frowned. “If the sabotage at the concert was an attempt to halt the concert and thus the announcement, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect something similar at this event.”
Before Arne could rebut, and right around the time Cass was beginning to wonder if they’d notice if she opened the door just enough to slip out, Marina’s phone dinged. The Princess glanced at it, thumbed the alarm, and stood from her spot at the couch.
“We need to wrap this up. Five minutes until Britta arrives to discuss flower and music choices, Viktoria.”
Was it Cass’s imagination, or did the queen grimace slightly? She slid off Dad’s desk and moved to his side, and he took her hand.
“I still don’t see why we can’t just do something intimate like Willy wants. I had a state wedding once, and it would be nice to do something private this time.” She smiled down at Dad. “Willy’s quite smart about things like that, you know.”
Oh no, they’re making googly eyes at each other. Cass glanced over and caught Arne’s expression just as he managed to soothe it from creeped-out to oh-isn’t-that-sweet. Looked like she wasn’t alone.
Marina sighed. “We’re holding the wedding on the royal yacht, like William wants. But you cannot deny that this is a formal occasion. Aegiria needs a wedding befitting a monarch.”
“But—”
Before she had to hear the whole argument, Cass nodded to Alek—who was looking faintly amused—and slipped out of the door.
Thank God.
She breathed a little sigh of relief as she pulled the door to Dad's office closed behind her and looked around the waiting area. It was the sitting room of an old guest suite which had been converted into opulent offices for various ministers and advisors to the crown.
Even with the addition of the receptionist desk, the room retained its cozy atmosphere. Two groups of people we're sitting in the various plush chairs spread throughout the room; the two men under the windows were both sipping coffee while they spoke, and the man and the woman at the coffee table were surrounded by folders full of papers and two laptops. And of course, there were two steely-eyed bodyguards—Cass would’ve recognized them by their black uniforms and suspicious glares even if she hadn’t known their names already—on either side of the outer door. Alek and the queen must’ve left them out here before their private meeting.
It was the woman chatting with the receptionist who caught Cass’s eye. Or rather, Cass caught her eye.
Britta did a double-take when she saw Cass come out of the office, and the other woman’s grin as she straightened and smoothed the front of her expensive little red dress-suit was positively catty. She didn't acknowledge the receptionist when
she grabbed her tablet and moved across the room, those perfect high heels making her perfect butt sway perfectly. The two men by the window watched her in admiration.
The last time she’d seen Britta, Cass’s stomach had soured with jealousy. Now, she watched the woman with a sort of detached academic interest. I wonder why.
Then, right as Britta swayed to a stop in front of her, Cass realized the answer. Kristoff. She might not be as beautiful as the wedding planner, but Kristoff seem to like her well enough. She smiled, remembering just how well he liked her. Three times last night! They were well-suited, and she knew for a fact he enjoyed his time with her.
That smile might have been a mistake. Britta’s expression flickered briefly to irritation, then back to her calculating smile.
“Well, if it isn't the charity case.”
Cass actually looked behind her, wondering if Kristoff had snuck up on her. How did Britta know about Kristoff’s contribution to the charity? He’d made it pretty clear he didn't want the general public knowing. Unless Britta that didn't count as the general public...
She was trying to figure out how to ask the other woman that when Brita rolled her perfect blue eyes.
“You, you fat cow. The only reason Kristoff offered to be seen with you was because he has a soft heart. He felt sorry for you.” She sneered as she looked Cass up and down, obviously not approving of the lightweight sundress she’d packed to make Kristoff smile. “There's no way a prince would choose someone like you for anything serious.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice in false sympathy. “He probably only made the offer because he knew he could get into your pants.”
Whereas a minute before, Cass’s biggest problem had been wondering how to get away before her father began to make kissy faces at a monarch, doubt slammed into her with enough force to make her step back, away from Britta. The other woman’s grin grew.
Oh God. A pit opened in Cass’s stomach. Were Britta’s words correct? Had Kristoff only taken her sailing, invited her back to his room, made incredible love to her, because he pitied her? Did he really see her as a charity case?
You clumsy, fat cow.
Those were Britta’s words, but…but they were true. Cass was clumsy, and while she liked to think of herself as “adorkable”, Britta’s description was accurate too.
With the other woman smiling wolfishly at her, Cass couldn’t allow herself to cry, but great googly-moogly, she wanted to. Instead, she clenched one hand into a fist and welcomed the bite of her nails against her skin. That sensation kept her focused enough to lift her chin haughtily.
“He’s asked me to be his partner.”
She threw the words out like a gauntlet, trying to mask the doubt eating away at her insides. When Britta’s eyes widened, Cass saw the disbelief in them…but the other woman’s expression quickly turned to anger.
And Cass knew she had to tell the truth. “In the Regatta, I mean.” Not like, in life or anything.
“What?”
“Kristoff and I went sailing together, and we’re pretty awesome at it.” She struggled to hold on to that memory. They were awesome together, and that didn’t have anything to do with her being a—a—a fat cow. “He needed a partner to sail with, so he asked me.”
And she’d been proud when he’d asked. Remember that.
But Britta’s scowl turned calculating, then thoughtful as she stared. Finally, the other woman raised one perfect brow. “Is that so? Well, I am planning on entering the race too. Sailing is in my blood as much as in Kristoff’s.”
Was she saying she would’ve been a better match for Kristoff? Maybe so. They certainly would’ve made a good-looking team, Cass had to admit. Instead he’d be stuck with little old her.
You can sail. That’s what Kristoff had said to her, when he’d been trying to explain why he found her attractive. Cass held tight to those words. She could sail—it was something she was good at.
Yeah. Yeah.
Cass’s chin went up. “Oh yeah? Well, Kristoff and I make a great team. I’ll bet we beat you.”
The flash of triumph in Britta’s eyes told Cass the other woman had been waiting for an opening.
“A bet! Excellent idea.”
Wait, what? “A bet,” Cass repeated, doubtfully.
“That was your idea, wasn’t it?” The other woman tossed her hair and shifted her weight slightly. “We’ll bet on the outcome of the race.”
Uh-oh. “What…kind of stakes?”
And when Britta’s smile turned wolfish, Cass knew she was in trouble.
“Kristoff.”
“You want to wager Kristoff?”
The wedding planner waved her hand languidly. “The winner’s party, that night on the royal yacht. Whoever wins our little race gets escorted by Kristoff.”
“So…we’re wagering a date with Kristoff? Don’t you think he should have a say in that?”
“Oh, this is just a friendly competition, right?” Britta’s predatory grin was anything but friendly. “No need to bother him about it. When I win, I’ll just explain you were kind enough to let me dance with him.” She leaned in. “All night long.”
She obviously had a very specific kind of all-night-long dancing in mind, and Cass didn’t like it. Not after all the night-time dancing she’d been doing with Kristoff.
She resisted the urge to close her eyes on a groan, knowing that would clue Britta in on her distress. Instead, she forced a smile. After all, she and Kristoff were a good team, and Kristoff was already a shoe-in to win the race. That’s why he’d come up with the scheme to get the charity money to Enriching Children in the first place; he was fairly certain of his chances to win. Having her on board wasn’t going to hurt either.
So… “You’re on.” They weren’t going to lose. Cass would be able to attend that party with her head high and her arms around Kristoff, knowing they’d kicked perfect Britta’s perfect butt.
But that triumph flashed in Britta’s eyes again as the other woman straightened to her full height, and Cass felt a sense of dread creeping over her. Why was the other woman so pleased by this bet? What did Britta know that Cass didn’t?
Cass was just about to cave and ask that question—already dreading the other woman’s perfect snarky reply—when the door opened behind her. Luckily, she’d moved far enough into the room that Alek and Arne didn’t bump into her when they exited, but Cass spun around to face them so fast she almost stumbled.
You know, for a change.
Arne caught her elbow and smiled pleasantly. “Hello again, soon-to-be-stepsister.”
The kind greeting, combined with Britta’s bitchiness, caused a lump to form in Cass’s throat. She couldn’t reply, but nodded quickly a few times in acknowledgement.
And now I look like a bobblehead. A clumsy bobbleheaded cow.
Arne’s grin turned towards Britta. “Ms. Jensen, our mother and Dr. Haynes are ready to discuss wedding particulars. Aunt Marina is in there too.”
Britta fairly crowed at the reminder of her importance, and shot Cass a triumphant look. And why not? The woman was planning the biggest event of the decade; the Royal Wedding!
Still, when Britta smiled like that, Cass couldn’t help feeling she was gloating for another reason…the Kristoff wager?
The two princes nodded politely and moved out into the hallway, while Britta straightened her already-perfect little suit and moved towards the door to Dad’s office. Right before she pulled it open and slipped through it, she turned and gave Cass another triumphant smile.
And Cass felt a pit open up in her stomach. All of the self-doubt and fear and insecurities came crawling back. She wasn’t good enough for Kristoff, and she wasn’t good enough to beat Britta.
Uh-oh. what have I gotten myself into to?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Hey, there you are!”
Kristoff had to admit that he’d been feeling a little frantic, waiting around for Cass to show up to the registration table, so when he finally spotted her,
he breathed a little sigh of relief. And as she came closer, he felt…well, he relaxed. It was like having her back with him was enough to make him feel normal again.
She offered him a little smile, tenser than usual. But that didn’t stop him from pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Damn but she tasted good. Having her in his arms felt so right and normal that he felt the worry drain out of him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, but was still stiff. Was she pissed about something? Maybe that explained why she’d hadn’t been able to hang out for the last couple of nights, and why she hadn’t been answering his calls. Even the texts she’d sent had been…distant. Was she…what? Regretting the nights they had been together?
“What’s wrong, Cass?” He pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes, but didn’t let go.
She was back to doing that thing where she didn’t meet his eyes, like she was awkward or something. He thought they were past that.
“Cass?”
“It’s nothing.”
Nothing where she wouldn’t look at him? He mentally scoffed. Unlikely.
“I’ve missed you.” He squeezed her a little tighter, hoping she’d pick up on his sincerity, and the worry of the last few days.
And maybe it was the right thing to say, because she sighed slightly and seemed to soften a bit. “I missed you too,” she said quietly, and peeked up at him.
He caught and held her lovely eyes. “It’s been a rough week without you by my side.”
Instead of blushing or smiling or any of the thing he would’ve expected, she swallowed and whispered, “Why?”
What? “Why?” He jerked his head back to make sure she wasn’t teasing him. “Because I like being with you. Last weekend was nice, to be with you so much.”
“Yeah, but…” She was staring at the design on his t-shirt. “But that’s just because of the—of the sex, right?”
“Seriously?” He glanced around at the people milling in front of the registration table, and decided he didn’t care who overheard this conversation. He was already doomed to be in the tabloids tomorrow morning, thanks to kissing a woman in public. What did he care if everyone knew he’d been lucky enough to sleep with her, too?
