“So I’m just expected to sit here and wait? To ignore the fact that every single television channel is broadcasting the facets of my life to the public at this exact moment? That your mother has staged a political coup to take my crown by force? That my friend is, as we speak, picking out diamond rings to perpetuate this charade of an engagement?”
“I doubt he’s picking out a ring.” She pauses. “Surely you’ll wear something from the royal vault. There’s that stunning sapphire Queen Helena wore… a gift from your great, great grandfather, King Lewis, I believe… That thing is so big, it makes the Hope Diamond look like a hunk of worthless rock.”
“Chloe. Please focus.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t care about the damn ring, okay? I’m more concerned with the fact that Alden seems intent on proposing to me at the next possible opportunity. He was at the door earlier, whispering about our next steps. He’s called me three times. Texted on repeat. What am I supposed to do?”
“You could avoid him forever.”
“Thanks, that’s so helpful.”
“You could banish him from the kingdom.”
“Suggest a real solution, please.”
“You could… marry him.”
“Chloe! I’m serious.”
“So am I.” She pins me with a look. “I know better than anyone that you have your reasons for not wanting any romantic entanglements. But this isn’t about romance. Accepting a proposal from Alden is about political stability. It may be the only way to keep your throne.”
“I don’t believe that. I can’t believe that.”
“If you marry into the wealthiest family in the country, you’ll appease the nobility. It will completely undercut my mother’s plans to usurp you. Her support system — which, lets face it, seems to be financed by Sterling pursestrings — will evaporate. The Sterlings may be brazen, but they would not campaign against their own son if he were king. That’s social suicide.”
I stare at her. “You’re actually serious.”
She sits down in the chair beside mine, her expression grave. “I just think… if you do not have the freedom to marry for love, you might as well marry a friend. Someone who won’t hurt you. Someone whose company you enjoy. Someone kind and stable and ever-so-conveniently rich.” She pauses. “When you look at it that way… I can’t think of a man better suited for you than Alden Sterling.”
A pang goes through me.
Because she’s right. There’s no man more perfect for me than Alden. Not even the one I would choose for myself.
Carter Thorne is not suited for me.
He does not possess any of the qualities Chloe just listed.
He does not radiate kindness, nor stability.
He pushes my buttons. He tests my boundaries. He makes me question every viewpoint I’ve ever held.
He engages my mind along with my heart, my soul along with my body.
He is the most challenging, stubborn, headstrong man I have ever encountered.
Life with him would not be easy.
Not simple or uncomplicated.
So why do I want it so desperately?
Why can’t I let him go?
As if she’s heard my thoughts, Chloe murmurs, “You have to move on sometime, E. Might as well be sooner than later, if you ask me.”
I look at her sharply. “Move on from what?”
“From Carter.”
I flinch.
“I know…” Her tone softens. “I know you care for him. I know things between you two are… complex. But I also know, just as you do, that there’s no way the two of you can be together. Especially not now that Ludwig has emerged as a royal alternate.” Her head shakes sadly. “An affair with your stepbrother would be just what your enemies need to justify their calls for your abdication.”
My lips press together, containing angry words I don’t dare speak. I know she’s right, but that doesn’t take the sting out of what she’s saying. The truth falls across my back like a lash, drawing blood.
“I say this not as your sister, but as your official social media advisor,” Chloe continues gently. “I say it because I can see, as much as you might pretend to be fine, you’re still devastated by him leaving.”
“It’s only… I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I whisper, my voice catching. “He just left. It was so abrupt. There was no closure. So, now, he’s become this… this… this wound that will not heal. And I hate myself for being so weak, but I can barely fucking breathe some days, I miss him so badly.” I scoff with self-loathing. “How pathetic is that?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe you just need more time, E…”
“Maybe.” I press a hand to my heart, as if that might stop its aching. “Or maybe this will just be my life. Forever. Perhaps anguish is my new constant.”
“Do you think, if you had a chance to say goodbye to him properly… To tell him all the things you didn’t get the opportunity to before… Would it make it easier on you? Would you be able to move on for real?”
“I don’t know, Chloe. And I can’t think about it, because it’s never going to happen. He’s in Switzerland, moving on with his life. And I’m here. Keeping calm and carrying on, no matter the cost. That’s just… the way it has to be.”
We’re both silent for a long time. My mind is reeling a million different directions at once. Zinging back and forth between two extremely different futures that play out in my mind in a diametrical daydream.
Alden, Carter, Alden, Carter.
They say love is a battlefield. If that’s the case, my heart has become the bloodiest of war zones, where two very different men fight for purchase without reprieve.
The one I should want.
And the one I can’t claim.
Alden.
Carter.
Alden.
Carter.
Chloe has no reason to lie to me. She, more than anyone else, has my best interests at heart.
So, perhaps she’s right.
I have to move on eventually. Why put off the inevitable? Why wait to accept Alden’s proposal, when the end result will be the same?
Everything in this world worth having comes at a price. Marrying Alden Sterling may well be the one I’m forced to pay to keep my kingdom.
Chloe’s deep sigh brings me out of my reverie. “Boy drama aside… If I know my mother, and I think I do, the interview she gave today is only the beginning of her blitzkrieg. She’s going to be on every nightly broadcast and morning talk show, spreading the Ludwig gospel.”
“And illustrating the merits of my forced abdication,” I grumble. “Bitch is just bitter I took her crown.”
“But you look so much better in it.”
“I don’t know. Maybe all of this is a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
“That I’m not meant to be queen. That I’m supposed to step away from this role. That I was never meant to have it in the first place.”
“Okay, first of all, that’s bullshit. You are a kick-ass queen — and I don’t just say that because I love you. Secondly, the only sign I see here is the one that says my mother is a terrible person who must be stopped.”
“I’ve been a bit busy organizing the referendum. Haven’t had time to plot your mother’s destruction lately.”
“Don’t you have an entire Queen’s Guard at your disposal for just such tasks?” She arches her brows. “Delegate.”
“I suppose I could have Riggs look into Octavia’s recent dealings…”
Chloe nods. “If you find enough dirt on her, you might be able to get her to back off. The woman does not understand the term compromise. Mutually assured destruction is the only language she speaks.”
I laugh a bit darkly. “And here I thought things were going to slow down after the vote was done.”
“Things never slow down. Life is like a game of musical chairs — the older you get, the faster the music plays.”
“Comforting.”
&nbs
p; She merely shrugs.
I press my fingers to my temples, where a migraine has begun to pound. “God, my head feels like it’s going to explode.”
Chloe extends a hand toward me, waggling her fingers. “I have a fix for that.”
In the past, she would’ve pulled a baggie of pills out of her pocket and tried to shove one down my throat. But her newfound sobriety means no self-medication.
I narrow curious eyes at her. “What kind of fix?”
“A break from the television screen, for starters. That stuff will rot your brain.”
“Did you know one channel is actually circulating a composite image of my face morphed with Alden’s, to illustrate what our potential children might look like?”
“Were they cute?”
“Not really the point here, Chloe.”
“I don’t know… his blond hair and your green eyes… Could be a killer combo…”
“You’re really going to tease me? Today? Of all days? When my whole damn life is crumbling around me?”
“I actually came to help, believe it or not.” She winks and rises to her feet. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Just… away from here. Away from the castle, out of this city.”
“We can’t just leave! The results of the vote will be announced in a few hours!”
“Exactly. A few hours. That gives us plenty of time for a quick diversion.”
“Chloe… I can’t.”
“Give me one good reason why not.”
I open my mouth to do exactly that, but… In truth, I don’t have a good reason why we can’t leave the castle. I don’t have any justification at all for sitting here dwelling on all the things that could possibly go wrong today, listening to talking heads on a television screen dissect my life from afar.
Noting my reticence, Chloe grabs my hand and pulls me reluctantly out of my seat. “You’ve been working so hard, these past few weeks. Running yourself ragged. Now, as if the vote wasn’t enough to deal with, you’ve got Octavia making her move. Alden making his. It’s too much for one person to deal with all at once.”
“I’m fine.”
“You aren’t fine. You’re exhausted and overwhelmed and in need of a serious break.” She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Do you think I haven’t noticed how drained you are? Do you think it isn’t clear you’re barely holding it together?”
“But—”
“No buts.” She tugs me toward the door, her tone brooking no argument. “Now, we’re leaving. I already told Galizia to bring around the car.”
I’m smart enough to realize this is a battle I am not going to win… and self-aware enough to recognize the truth in Chloe’s words.
It’s been ages since I spent time doing something besides campaign for this vote. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to spend a day without schmoozing nobles at a fundraiser or orchestrating a touching photo-op for the nightly news or going over talking points for a press conference.
Loosing a martyred sigh, I leave the television screen behind — and, with it, all my worries about referendum results and distant heirs and scheming stepmothers.
Chloe is right.
At this point, the future is out of my hands.
Chapter Fifteen
To my surprise, it’s not one of the limousines waiting for us at the side entrance. Instead, we find ourselves in the backseat of a sleek black sedan with a deceptive amount of horsepower under the hood — the Maybach.
With Galizia (and her extensive tactical mobility training) at the wheel, we quickly navigate outside the city limits to a sun-drenched stretch of dirt road, leading up into the foothills of the mountain range that spans Germania’s eastern boarder.
Out here, there’s nothing but farmland and fresh air. Not a single building in sight, let alone another car. No one to impress. Hell, no one to even speak to.
The realization is freeing.
I didn’t realize how much I needed space until I got some. How claustrophobic my own life has become these past few months, surrounded by press cameras and pompous nobility members.
For the first time in a long time, I let my careful facade of togetherness fall away and simply…
Breathe.
In and out.
Eyes wide open.
Taking in the sensation like a patient newly awakened from a coma, my senses almost dull from disuse.
Chloe cranks the music loud as I crank down the windows, letting a vortex of wind rush in. It smells like newly-cut hay and budding flowers — an intoxicatingly floral medley, nascent notes of spring swimming in my head like a drug.
“Floor it, Galizia!” Chloe commands from beside me, her head hanging out the window like a dog. She laughs as red hair whips into her face, the sound snatched away by the rush of air long before it reaches my ears.
Galizia checks we’re both wearing our seatbelts before she grudgingly complies with our repeated requests.
More speed.
More.
More.
More.
We hit a dirt-packed straightaway and start to fly. The Maybach’s supercharged engine effortlessly carries us down the roadway so fast, the world outside turns to a blur. And with no one around to judge me — no camera crews in my face or microphone stands at the ready or hawk-eyed social media users documenting my every move — I throw my head back and scream into the wind until all the tension of the past few weeks leaves my body in a great rush. Until the worries about referendum results and political repercussions and underhanded enemies and impending proposals disappear from my mind and the only thing that remains is…
Freedom.
Utter freedom.
“Thank you,” I yell to Chloe over the roar of the wind and the growl of the Maybach. “I needed this!”
Giggling like an utter lunatic, she reaches across the back seat and grabs my hand, squeezing so hard my finger bones crunch. I can’t hear her words, but I read them clearly on her lips as she mouths them to me.
Love you, sis.
After an afternoon of adrenaline, I fall asleep in the car on our way back to the castle, jolting awake when we come to a stop in the driveway. Blinking bleary eyes, I look around in confusion when I realize we aren’t at Waterford Palace. The Maybach is idling in an unfamiliar circular driveway in front of a towering estate I’ve never seen before.
It’s quite a sight — imposing stone steps, ornate marble cornices, gothic towers that spear upward into the moody afternoon sky. I spot several gargoyles standing guard on the black gabled roofs, their fanged faces contorted into sneers.
“Where are we?”
“Hightower,” Chloe says succinctly.
“What?”
“High-tow-er.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, thanks, I heard you. I’m just wondering why, exactly, you’ve brought me to your childhood home instead of back to the castle?”
“Consider it Phase Two of Operation Distraction.”
“I don’t need more distracting. I promise I won’t watch the news until the polls close and the results are announced. And I won’t so much as Google the name von Strauss.”
“No one believes you.”
“Galizia believes me! Don’t you, Galizia?”
My personal guard says nothing from the driver’s seat.
Chloe snorts. “See? Not even she believes you can be trusted alone with a search engine, today. You need some healthy distance from all the things that have been stressing you out, E. A technology detox.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I cross my arms over my chest and pin her with my best withering stare. “Does this phase of your plan at least involve food? Because I’m starving.”
“I’m sure the pantry is well stocked. Though I haven’t been here for quite some time.”
A worrisome thought occurs to me. “There’s no chance Octavia is inside, is there?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Galizia offers, meeting my eyes in the rearview. “As you requested
, we’ve begun monitoring her location. She is currently in residence at the Bane estate.”
“As in Ramsey Bane?” My nose wrinkles in disgust at the mention of the former King’s Guard Commander — one of the most unpleasant men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. “Those two make a fitting pair…”
“Garbage attracts garbage.” Chloe shrugs. “It’s science.”
I snort. “I’m just glad for a chance to finally see Hightower without your family members here to complicate things. I’ve wanted to visit for a long time. After all the stories you’ve told me, it’ll be nice to see where you grew up in person.”
Where Carter grew up.
Chloe looks at me for a long beat without answering, an indecipherable expression on her face.
“What?” I ask, blinking at her. “Is there drool on my cheek or something?”
“No, you’re good.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.” She waves her phone at me. “I’m going to check in with Dr. Hess. You head inside first, I’ll catch up.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“No!”
My eyebrows lift at her abrupt intensity.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s just… I need a little privacy, okay?”
“Of course. Sorry.” Hand poised on my car door handle, I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you sure you’re okay, though? You’re acting sort of… off.”
“Just go in, will you?”
I glance at Galizia in the driver’s seat but she simply shrugs and climbs out of the Maybach. I open my own door and follow her toward the impressive front facade of the mansion, whistling as more details come into view. The architecture is truly marvelous.
“Are we allowed to be here?”
Galizia glances over at me, amused. “Since this is your kingdom, I believe you’re allowed to go wherever you want, Your Majesty.”
“I meant is it safe to be here. Usually Riggs doesn’t let me go to the freaking bathroom without a full contingent of guards on standby.”
Sordid Empire Page 25
