by Scott, S. L.
Down the blue hall, I see the gilded double doors at the end that lead to my father’s office. Butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach. Margie’s a nice distraction. She says, “I’ve updated the entire system. We’re not living in the Stone Age anymore.” We reach the closed doors, and she adds, “Fingers crossed.”
“Yeah, fingers crossed.” I straighten my shoulders and raise my chin as I knock on the door.
“Come in,” my father calls from the other side. He’s a very formal man—not the most cuddly but always caring. I walk in and close the door behind me quietly. Quiet. So quiet like a lady is supposed to be.
I stand with my hands clasped behind my back until my parents look up. “Come in. Come in,” my father says impatiently, waving me over.
Sitting on the couch opposite the one they occupy, I quickly take a mental note of the surroundings: a fire roars in the fireplace in the middle of summer, and books are stacked in the corner ready to tip over. My mother’s ankles are crossed, so I cross mine to match. My dad pushes a pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose but still manages to look at me over the top of them. “Dear Arabelle, how are you acclimating to Brudenbourg since you’ve been back?”
“Quite well. Thank you.”
He opens a file on the coffee table dividing us, flips through a few pages, and then says, “We want to discuss the coronation.”
“Yes, I’m ready to discuss it.”
Sitting back, he grasps my mother’s hand, and says, “As you’re well aware, we’re young at heart and hopefully have a lot of years ahead of us, but we are getting older. Now that Marielle is twenty-three and seems to be on a good path, and Jakob is doing a fine job handling our family’s affairs, those are years we would like to spend traveling and relaxing a bit more than we can with our current situation.”
When he pauses, I speak up, “Yes, you’ve both worked very hard for a long time now. Taking time to relax and do what you want would be a wonderful way to spend life.”
My mother says, “We agree, but we’re not quite sure what to do about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you know, your role in the family is much more complicated.”
“I’m very aware of my role in the family. It’s one I’ve been training for my entire life.” I hate feeling like I have to defend myself, but I will if it helps me.
I hate the pauses in conversation. I see where Marielle gets it from. My mom finally says, “We’ve had several offers come in—”
“Offers? For what?”
She studies me, and then my father replies, “For your hand in marriage.”
“What? What do you mean? What offers? From whom?”
He continues, “Two actually.”
“I had five,” my mother interjects. “You’re very beautiful, Arabelle, but I have to say I expected more.”
“Two or twenty. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not flattered. Those offers didn’t come because of my looks. They came because they want the connection, the throne, the money, and to take over our country.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Arabelle,” my father says.
“Me? Have you met your middle child?” I know I shouldn’t have said it. Sarcasm is probably not the best route to take with this conversation. After all, I’m trying to figure out why the hell I’m here.
“Please be good,” my mother says. Good? She adds, “We’ve been reading the decrees and bylaws, and although we’ve read them a million times, we wanted to make sure everything was in order before we spoke with you.”
My stomach turns from the tone she’s using. It’s not filled with the happiness it should be. It’s the opposite, in fact.
“Speak to me about what?”
She shuffles papers from the file, and then I see an image of me drinking beer from the pub in Luxum. “We thought you had made the necessary changes for us to move forward with our early retirement, but clearly, you’re not ready to wear the crown.”
Panic fills my veins. “It was a beer. That’s all.”
“It’s not just the beer,” my father says. “There are rumors you were seen in an alley with a strange man.” When I start to speak, he holds his hand up to stop me. “I don’t care if the rumors are true, but we can’t have stories circulating about our queen. Let me correct that. We do care if the rumors are true. Were you in an alley with some strange man that night?”
“No,” I plead. “I wasn’t.” A dark doorway? Yes, absolutely, but the man is not a stranger. But none of that matters as I see my inherited future slipping through my fingers. “What are you saying?”
Sympathy shines like tears in my mother’s eyes, and she leans on my father’s shoulder. He says, “We’ve accepted one of the offers.”
“What? No.” I stand, my hands fisting at my side. “You can’t.”
“Yes, we can. It’s for the betterment of Brudenbourg. You know that your time away was to curb your rebellious ways, but it seems your behavior hasn’t changed. Judging by these photos, you’ll still be viewed as a princess with a tarnished crown, so that leaves no choice but to marry you into a prominent family.”
“Prominent family? Not for love. Not for my dignity. You’re marrying me off for image alone?”
“Yes, to fix yours.”
“Then tell me.” Anger courses through me. “Who is deemed worthy enough to save me?”
My father says, “God save the Queen and if he doesn’t, we will.”
“That’s enough, Werner. And calm down, Arabelle. You will still be queen,” my mother says, probably attempting to placate me. But I’m incensed. “But you’ll have a marriage partner who accepts your missteps and bad choices.”
“All of them?” I ask snarky, “Or just the ones they deem forgivable?”
“That’s for you and him to work out. Preferably privately.” She holds my father’s hand again. “I found love through a marriage match. You can too if you give the relationship your full effort and your husband the commitment he deserves.”
Maybe I’m being rude, but I can tell they’re avoiding the question, so I push back. “I asked who?” I’d almost concede the fight if it weren’t for two things—I feel sick already knowing who they’ve made this royal match with, but most importantly, because it’s not to Hutton.
“The Duke of Wenig will make a fine husband—”
“No!” No. No. No. My arms tighten over my stomach.
“You should feel grateful that you have offers with the ruckus you’ve caused. You’re a smart girl, but it’s time to step up and be a strong woman and a leader. The role of queen should never be taken lightly or in jest. The world is watching your next move, so what will it be?”
“Not living a loveless marriage. He’ll take over the decision-making just like he takes over conversations.”
“Dear,” my mother starts, “he’s a man in charge of an important province, and he’s done a fine job for us. He’ll take a lot of the burden off you with his experience.”
“I bet he will . . . Have you told him?”
“He’s feeling confident—”
“Arrogant,” I correct.
“We asked him to wrap up the communications deal so we could tend to other business.”
“Me? I’m the other business.” I roll my eyes. Yelling at them will get me nowhere, and it’s clear that my feelings on the duke are irrelevant. I feel lightheaded for the first time in my life, but the thought of Hutton steadies me. “The deal . . . has anyone been chosen?”
“No one just yet,” my father says. “But I think the committee is leaning toward The Yamagata Group.”
“No!”
Startled, my parents jump. “What is wrong with you?” I realize I just protested louder regarding the deal than my marriage. My mother comes to me and puts the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you not feeling well?”
“Everest Media is a better choice.”
Staring at me, my father is intrigued. “Why is that?”
I
need to be careful. Gathering my thoughts together, I sit. I control the pitch of my tone and reply, “Because they’re innovative and have a youthful ambition, strong work ethic, and a vision for the future of how our country is represented.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I sat in with Jakob going over the reels and submission documents.”
He smiles, giving me the affirmation I’ve needed from him for years. “Yamagata has experience and has handled the communications and representation of image for other countries. We can’t overlook the trust he’s been given to handle their presence on the world scene.”
“You can’t deny the impact Everest Enterprises has made. Hint. It’s more than a splash.”
“You’re right,” he says, “but I’m concerned with their day-to-day operations. I think we need to visit each of their headquarters to see the real operation behind the men.”
“You’re going to New York?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“I volunteer. I’ll go.”
Standing up to move back to his desk, he says, “I had planned to send Jakob.”
“Send him to Los Angeles to inspect Yamagata’s setup.”
“Why?” my mom asks.
“This is what I studied in school. I can contribute in more ways than just looking pretty.” Making sure my head is held high, I add, “And because this will affect my reign. I want a say in it.” My parents stare at me. “I insist.”
She smiles, pride in her eyes, but waits for my father’s reply. I never understood why she handed him all the power she holds. Can she hate her station enough to sit idly in the passenger seat of her own life while someone else drives? And now, particularly about who her daughter will spend the rest of her life with?
Her reluctance to own her inherited position drives me to want it more. I’ve never been power hungry, but I still intend to rule wisely and intentionally.
He looks at me, and then says, “That’s fair. The Everests are leaving the day after next. We’ll have the plane secured, and you can fly with them. You have four days, and then we need to make a final decision.”
“That’s all I’ll need.”
“Very well. A princess involved in business could be very good for our country.” It’s not a dig at mom. She’s happy to let him handle business even if he doesn’t get the glory of the title. Nonetheless, something about her situation makes me sad.
I start for the door but wonder if I should bring up the chastity law. The same reasons I never did before stop me now. Anything that slips out could be used against me, just like the past is. “See you at supper.”
“Yes,” my mom calls behind me. “Wear the tiara, Arabelle.”
“Will do.” I’m about to shut the door when I see Margie down the hall wanting to burst with a squeal.
“Please don’t talk in slang,” my mother slips in before I can close it. “It’s so unbecoming.”
“All righty.”
I shut the door and laugh at myself, but it’s cut short when Margie stands from a chair in the hall, and asks, “How did it go?”
“Depends.”
“On?” she asks as we walk toward the grand stairs.
“How New York goes.”
“New York? What’s in New York?” Hutton. But I don’t say that. I know exactly where her feelings lie when it comes to him. Maybe I can change her mind now that we’re home, and she can see him for the good man he is instead of assuming he was a guy I was only hooking up with.
He wasn’t.
He was always so much more. I tried to separate my heart from the attraction, but now that he’s near again, I realize my heart is attached to him. We were never just a physical attraction. We’re so much more than a fleeting connection. We always were.
We’re two chains linked together in a circle. We shared a slow and steadily blossoming love, one so delicate I foolishly thought we weren’t meant to last more than a season. The moment I saw him again, hope renewed and our perennial love bloomed again.
I need to talk to him about what he wants. We can show the world how much we love each other and prove to my mother that love ultimately rules. With his financial knowledge and charisma and my understanding of our land and socioeconomic needs, Hutton and I will not only work to benefit the Bruden people, but our country will continue to flourish.
Yes, I really need to speak with Hutton. I don’t know about the life he leads in New York, but does it compete with a life here? He says he wants to be with me and is well aware where I intend to be, but we still need to have that conversation.
I’ve lived my life in this fishbowl. He’s lived his freely. Is it possible he won’t want to give up that freedom in exchange for me?
No. Surely, we’re on the same page. We’re forever. No matter what my parents say about my “offer,” I won’t settle for less love than I’ve been given. Hutton is mine, and I’ll fight for him. I just have to be very careful in front of them for now. “I’m going to close this deal.”
“Is that why they called you in? Jakob can’t do his job?” Her perturbed tone surprises me. She’s always liked Jakob, even when he was pestering us as youngsters.
“Jakob’s going to California to visit the Yamagata headquarters. I volunteered to go to New York and report back.”
She stops two steps below me, and says, “This seems like a stretch. What do you know about business?”
Like a slap, I flinch and look back. “What do I know about business? I have a master’s degree in business communications, or did you forget what we were doing in Texas?”
“I didn’t. I just thought you had.”
Fury flames hot inside me. I’m shocked and hurt and angry she would speak to me so harshly. I take a deep breath, wanting to calm the storm brewing inside. I exhale, and then say, “I understand that you want to get ahead, but does it have to be at the expense of our friendship?”
“My apologies, Princess. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was out of line.”
Princess, not Belle.
“Okaaaay, I see how this is going down.” In flames apparently. I start walking again. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
I stop when she asks, “When are we leaving for New York?” Shoot. I hadn’t thought of that.
Slowly, I turn around. “I’m not sure you’ll be my companion this trip.”
With a finger still pressed to the screen of the tablet, she says, “Be careful, Belle.”
My grip tightens on the banister. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m looking out for you.”
“Guess it’s all perspective.”
She comes to one step below mine and looks up at me. Whispering, she says, “I know what you’re up to. You know I do. As your friend, I’m asking you to please be careful and don’t do what I know you’re doing.”
“What am I doing, Margitte?”
“This is about Hutton. You don’t lie as well as you think you do.”
“I’m not lying. I’m going to New York to see their headquarters and to see if they can supply what they say they can.”
“All right.” Her eyes squeeze closed quickly before she adds, “You can lie to yourself, but I know the truth.”
“What truth is that?”
“That you’re in love with him. Is he in love with you, or is he just another guy who wants part of your legacy?”
“You don’t know him at all. If you did, you would have seen all he wants is me. That’s all he’s wanted all along.”
Her mocking laughter echoes around us. “God, Belle, what are you doing? If he didn’t meet you that night on Fourth Street, he would have met someone else. You weren’t special. You were just easy.” What? Who is this stranger?
My heart hurts. My eyes begin to water, stunned by how far our friendship has deteriorated. I knew she was unhappy having to follow me around for my schooling, but as my friend, I thought it was an opportunity. “When you turned a cold shoulder to me in Texas
, I looked to others. It’s incredible how you can’t see that you’re the one who forced me to find new allies.” She has so much ammunition she can use against me, but I refuse to cower. Raising my chin and straightening my shoulders, I do what I’ve always been told. “I’ll see you with the tiara. Good afternoon.”
“Belle,” she says, grabbing my arm.
I stop, my gaze going to her hand.
She’s quick to remove it as if she’s touched fire for the first time.
She has.
She just doesn’t realize how hot I can burn.
19
Princess Arabelle
Me: I miss you.
Hutton: I miss you more.
Me: Come see me.
Hutton: And risk being sent to the pillory?
Me: Look at you with all your fancy words.
Hutton: I have other words.
Me: Like?
Resting back, I feel close to him through this exchange, but I need him here. I need to see him. So much has happened in such a short time, and it makes me wonder what would have happened if I had given into a real relationship a long time ago. What if I had gone to Houston instead of trying to save my heart the hurt of saying goodbye? What if I hadn’t stood him up and instead said hello.
Hutton: You. Soul. Affection. Mouth. Blue. Key.
Me: Key?
Hutton: To my heart.
Right here on my bed, I become a puddle of melted swoon.
Me: Come see me. Please.
Hutton: Already on my way.
Me: At the top of the stairs, swing right and then stay close to the blue and white striped curtains. It’s a blind spot for the camera.
Hutton: Do I even want to know how you know this?
Me: No. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.
I giggle as I push send on the text message, then I wait impatiently for a reply while lying in bed. My eyes are puffy and burn from the tears I’ve cried.
Being betrayed by my best friend this afternoon . . . again . . . is not something I expected to happen. We have been two peas in a pod since we were born. Margie and I even dressed up as peas and carrots one year, Miss Piggy and Kermit another year . . . the costume worked for the brief but awkward stage I was going through at the time.
