Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1)

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Oh, Sophia. You should have seen your face!” The sound of Nicholas Bexx, Jr.’s laughter made me want to claw his face off.

  He reached out to hug me.

  “I can’t believe you just did that.” I shouted, pushing him away. “You bastard! Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

  “Oh, Sofa. I was just playing around.”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  His nickname for me was like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Anyway, I was only trying to prove a point: that it’s not safe for girls to travel here on their own.” His voice had an edge to it. I’d almost forgotten we were arguing before he’d stormed off. Then again, we were always arguing so why keep track.

  “Betty’s hardly a girl. She’s eighteen, Nick. That’s an adult even if she doesn’t act like one.” I stood up and thrust my chin out, walking to my suitcase where I’d left my sunglasses and paperback. “Anyway, the answer is still no, so stop trying to gaslight me.”

  “Sophia, be reasonable.”

  His definition of reasonable included me agreeing to his demands and accepting his lies without question—typical narcissist.

  But no way. Not this time.

  “Betty is not coming with us and if you don’t send her away, I’m out of here.” Faster than her dignity, and your hair.

  Of course, I didn’t actually say that last part even though it made me smile evilly inside. He was as sensitive as he was vain.

  “Uh-huh. You would just take off and leave me. Why are you so jealous?”

  “Jealous?” I snarled. Now that was the skunk calling the rose foul. It was truly absurd that I was squirreled away like one of Nick’s showpieces, barely allowed to see my best friend and grandmother; meanwhile hanger-on-Bony-Betty-Rockcliff had a permanent, Velcro attachment to my boyfriend’s behind. I’d threatened to put a luggage tag on her if I turned around once more and found her in the airport lineup behind us. I kept my expression calm, though I was quietly seething underneath.

  “She just happens to be traveling in the South of France at the same time as us. So what?”

  “And Paris… and Greece… and everywhere else we travel, Nick. Do you think I’m a clueless idiot?”

  He smiled and I knew the answer. Not that he was wrong. I had been naive up until this point.

  “Most of my friends travel Europe right now.” His tone shifted to the terse, coldly annoyed one he used on waiters and hotel staff.

  “Good, I’m glad most of your friends travel Europe right now. She’ll have lots of options as to who she wants to intrude on next.”

  “Don’t be catty, Sophia. It doesn’t suit you. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult lately. You know, most people would jump at the chance to move here.”

  Here we go. This was the part of the argument where he switched everything around on me because I refused to move to Europe with him. Poor, poor, pitiful Nick.

  Sometimes I wished I was magical like one of the characters in my paperbacks. Then I could snap my pretty little fingers and disappear. Instead I sipped my water and bolstered my strength. It was now or never. “Cut the crap, Nick. I know Betty propositioned you last night on the terrace.”

  “Oh, really? And here I thought you had one of your headaches? Oh Nick, my head is pounding. I have to sleep,” he mocked.

  “Well, I wasn’t asleep and I heard everything.”

  Brief silence from Nick.

  “I can’t believe you.” Outrage now. “You were eavesdropping….”

  I tapped my foot. This guy was unbelievable.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but when you still hadn’t come to bed at midnight I went looking and guess what I heard?”

  “We were just having drinks. Nothing happened.”

  “Oh, I know nothing happened because she was so blitzed, she could hardly stand, but I heard what she suggested and you didn’t exactly sound outraged. As a matter of fact, you sounded flattered and, you didn’t decline,” I added, my voice breaking.

  He walked to the other room and then returned; all prior conversation forgotten. “What did you do with my aviators?”

  I swallowed hard. Nick had a disturbing way of turning his emotions on and off when it suited him, or so it seemed. Tears prickled in my eyes, which was silly because I knew he would avoid this topic and I planned on breaking up with him anyway. Without realizing it, I’d squeezed the jeweled necklace so hard my knuckles were turning white which looked strange against the bright yellow taxi cab colored nail polish. I loosened my grip and dropped it back into the box.

  “The maid put them on the bathroom shelf.”

  An outburst of profanity followed the slamming of the bathroom door. I rolled my eyes and resumed admiring my jewelry collection. It was just a matter of time before I would be rid of him. My finger tingled as I slipped on the sapphire ring, pausing to make sure it wasn’t too tight. Nope. My circulation was fine.

  I shook the feeling away, and checked the time.

  “Oh shoot! We’ve got to go,” I called to Nick. “We’ll be late for the excursion.”

  “They can wait,” he grumbled, opening the bathroom door.

  A weary sigh broke from my chest as I stood and collected my bag. “No, they cannot. This isn’t one of your private charters, your highness.”

  “Well, why the hell not. It’s not like we can’t afford it. I don’t know why you insist on acting so…”

  “…So, so what… Nick? So human, so humble?”

  So poor? Was what he’d meant.

  He swallowed, and for once wisely didn’t finished his thought.

  “There are twenty of us, departure is ten o’clock sharp. Meet me at the café and don’t be late.

  FOUR

  J ust down the street, on my way to the café, I found a bookstore that was already open. It was a small, claustrophobic little shop typical of Europe but it was filled with books and that was all that mattered—especially to a bibliophile.

  I wandered inside and picked up a book on the Grimaldi family history, and flipped a few pages only to discover it was nothing special, just stuff I already knew about the royal family of Monaco. The spiral of scandal, betrayal, and divorce. Paternity suits, out-of-wedlock children and divorces, blah, blah, blah. Tell me something new. I kept flipping until I came across the Princess’s name from the psychic’s research: Sapphira. The word cursed relic jumped out at me. My interest was officially piqued and it was on clearance. Thank you ereader generation.

  I picked it up and slid it onto the counter at the front of the shop. The young girl in the black rimmed glasses smacking her bubble gum and scrolling social media, frowned at having been interrupted, but rang me up anyway.

  “Enjoy your book,” she said, immediately going back to her cell phone.

  “Sure will,” I said waving the book in the air.

  Just down the street, I took a seat on the Armani patio and ordered a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant. Not the breakfast of champions but when in France, right? For the next fifteen minutes, I poured over the Princess’s history and decided that it was indeed a good buy.

  “Ms. Marcil,” the waiter said, returning with my second cappuccino. “Are you still expecting company?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said, adjusting my sunglasses. “I’ll take the bill now, please.”

  I glanced up the Boulevard de la Croisette in the direction of our villa and continued to read for another five minutes before a near-by giggle snapped me back to the present.

  As I looked up at Nick’s smug face, I frowned, realizing I’d actually been excited at the prospect of adventuring on my own—or was it just the thought of getting rid of him.

  “You made it,” I said, drily, “…and you brought company.” I looked daggers at his cheap Velcro sidekick, she was in one of her trademark see-through tops. Today it was white and her bra was black—probably like her soul.

  He had the decency to look momentarily shamed. “I hope you explained that our spots o
n the boat are reserved. No strays,” I said pointedly and picked up my bag as I stood.

  Nick coughed and blushed as he looked from me to Betty.

  “I asked them to bring another coffee and pastry when you arrived but there’s no time now. Why did it take you forty minutes to get here?”

  Betty licked her lips and smiled.

  “Oh, hey girl. That was my bad. Of course, I’m sure you didn’t mind. I see you’ve got your nose in a book. That’s pretty much where you like it, right? Aside from in the air.”

  I had the urge to spill the foam left in my cup on her but I figured she’d already had enough liquid spritzed on her today. Damn! The claws were out. Nick turned away from me as if he knew what I was thinking. “We’ll see you later, Betty.”

  Betty turned to Nick in surprise and then she looked daggers at me.

  “Bye, Betty,” I repeated, more aggressively.

  Betty turned red, stuttered and left.

  Nick laid his hand on mine. “I’m sorry, Sophia. I ran into her at the Intercontinental Café on the way here and, before I could stop her, she’d ordered me coffee and eggs.

  “Coffee and eggs, huh?” I glanced at his zipper which he’d forgotten to zip all the way back up.

  He must have realized what I was accusing him of because he turned away to fix himself.

  I tried not to grin as I looked at my watch and pushed past him.

  FIVE

  Kingdom of Sardinia, 1857

  P rincess Sapphira Grimaldi struggled to consciousness. Stretching, she sat up and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her bedroom chambers were empty and yet, she could hear muffled voices echoing from the direction of the fireplace.

  Her brother must be having one of his secret meetings, she thought sleepily as she strained to hear.

  “I was sorry to hear about your father, Will. He was one hell of a treasure hunter,” the voice paused and then softened, “and a good friend to my father. So difficult to believe that they’re both gone now, isn’t it? But it’s good that you’re carrying on with his adventures.”

  Fully awake now, Sapphira moved off the bed—running her fingertips along the mantle looking for the switch that would allow her to fulfill her curiosity.

  Yes, it was definitely her brother, Prince Charles speaking, and it sounded like he was headed to the palace’s inner sanctum—their father’s secret royal treasure trove.

  Her fingers found the spot and the fireplace opened. The voices grew louder instantly. Holding her breath, she stepped inside the dark tunnel and scurried to catch up to the flickering shadows.

  “Thank you, Charles. We’re still searching for his killer. It’s hard to believe he survived the rebels’ attack only to return home and die of a mugging.

  That was definitely William Ferris up ahead with her brother. She recognized the accent. He was speaking about his father’s death. Sapphira had heard Charles discussing it last month. Will Sr. had survived the rebels’ attack on the Sati Chaura Ghat in India only to die at home.

  Her brother’s voice pulled her from her own thoughts.

  “Well, let me know if I can help. Anyway, I thought your father was searching a temple. What was he doing with the East Indian Company Army?”

  “The General was a friend. He was staying as his guest.”

  One of the men stumbled. Sapphira wasn’t sure who.

  “Careful, Will. You don’t look so well, yourself. Are you ill?”

  “Well, that’s a hell of a thing to say, Chuck.”

  Charles laughed. “I apologize. I’ve no one to keep me in line, anymore. Aside from my sister, of course, who would rather chew off her own tongue then hold it.”

  “Yes, I can only imagine, but it’s good for you. Ruling a kingdom can do bad things to a man’s ego.”

  They had slowed. Sapphira followed the light down the tunnel, careful to stay three paces behind.

  “You’re not wrong though. I’m exhausted, it’s been taxing. Father had a run of bad luck before he died, and it’s left us with some debt. I’ll feel better once this is all over.”

  Charles nodded, moving to the left and touching the stone wall.

  The wall moved. Saphira remained close but just out of sight around the bend.

  “I’m happy to help you out, my friend and, of course, add to the royal collection. Sapphira’s birthday is soon and I must leave her. This will be her first birthday without our father and I hate to go when she’s out of sorts but I haven’t a choice. She’s obsessed with Perrault's magical fairy tales and I’m hoping that faerie stone you mentioned will bring her comfort. I’ve already spoken to the jeweler.”

  “A better brother no one could have. The sapphire will make a lovely amulet.”

  Charles inhaled and Sapphira inched closer as swiftly as she could in an attempt to see what he was in awe over. A small avalanche of pebbles fell to the ground, alerting the men to her presence.

  “Spy!” Will shouted.

  Her brother, Charles spun back and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the light.

  “No, only a rat.”

  Sapphira smiled timidly.

  “Your Highness, it’s lovely to see you again.” Will leaned forward and kissed her hand.

  “Hello, Will,” she whispered.

  Charles jerked her arm. “Don’t you know better than to spy? You could have been hurt.”

  “By you. Oh please, Chuckie.” She turned back to the jewel. The bottom was flat, like an egg that had been chopped in half, and the top practically glowed.

  “I told you not to call me that. I’m the Prince now. You have to refer to me by title.”

  “Not in here I don’t. In here, you’re simply my shifty older brother.”

  “And you’re my irksome little sister.” He ruffled her hair. “But seriously, next time, call out so we don’t hurt you.”

  “It kind of defeats the purpose of eavesdropping but fine,” She turned back to Will. “This is magnificent. Where did you say your father got this—an exotic temple?”

  Charles stepped inside and lit the torches.

  “I see you’ve been with us for a while.” Will laughed. “The locals refer to it as the Temple of Indra. Now that’s between you, me and your brother. The fairy stone also known as the Delhi Sapphire.” He held it up so she could inspect it. “Sorry to ruin your surprise.”

  Charles grunted disapprovingly.

  Sapphira smiled at her brother, hoping to earn his forgiveness.

  She’d never seen anything like it. “You’re the best, Chuckie, I mean, Your Highness.” She turned back to Will. “What do the markings mean?”

  “Markings, really? Probably the work of the faeries.”

  ***

  Sapphira bent over her desk and retrieved the note she’d written for Francois. She needed him to take her to the village to see the alchemist tonight. She paced to the window and watched the tables being set up in the courtyard below. What would Rochus say about the strange dreams plaguing her? They’d begun a week ago and come every night since. Ever since she’d perused his book without his knowledge.

  She dragged her thoughts back to the feast. Where was that blasted chambermaid? She needed her to deliver the note. The chaos of the ball’s preparations would make for perfect cover. Many of the guests were probably already arriving.

  She turned at the sound of her door, examining the tall, thin woman who’d just entered her chambers.

  “You’re not Lisabetta.”

  “No, Yer Highness, I help in the kitchen, but Lisabetta asked me to bring up your tea today. She’s preparin’ for the feast.”

  Sapphira shifted. “I suppose everyone is busy, then.”

  Straight-faced, the girl nodded and set the plate down. “Aye, the staff have been hard at it all mornin’. Shall I locate your maid to dress you?”

  “Yes. But first, tell me, where are you from?”

  “Ireland, Ma’am. The name’s Alastríona.”

  “Alastríona. You are f
amiliar to me.” Sapphira walked forward to where the woman stood. “I must have seen you around. Not that it matters. Anyway, I require your assistance. Could you have this message delivered to Francois?”

  “Aye, I surely can.”

  “Oh, and, Alastríona, you do not have permission to open it and no one else but Francois is to receive it. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, Yer Highness.”

  Sapphira sipped from her tea and tried to relax. If she was caught attempting to slip out without her guards there’d be hell to pay.

  After the servant girl had gone, Sapphira walked to her wardrobe, shivering from the draft that blew in. There was something about Alastríona that niggled at the back of her mind.

  She looked at each of her garments critically, considering which she would wear. She pulled the green velvet from the armoire.

  “Oh, my lady, you mustn’t wear that,” Chloe said, stepping into the room behind her.

  “Chloe, there you are.”

  “It’s much too plain for such an evening. The red or the gold would be perfect on you.”

  Sapphira frowned. Both dresses she suggested were beautiful but impractical for slipping away.

  “Do you know if the Graf will be in attendance this evening?”

  “Conrad of Württemberg, Your Highness, nephew to King William, has already arrived.”

  A wicked smile fully lifted the corners of Sapphira’s mouth. The Graf’s wide chest and large hands brought about thoughts that Mother would have found completely indecent.

  “Good. I’ve heard he has plans to court me. If he keeps me out of the Comte’s grubby little hands then I shall marry him on the spot.”

  Alastríona returned for only a moment, delivering her message that Francois had agreed to have the carriage ready on time.

  Chloe perked up but said nothing.

  “Don’t forget my thick mantle.”

  “Your Highness?” Chloe said, handing over the dark cloak.

  “To keep away the draughts,” she explained and gave a wistful smile, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t fret. I shall be discreet and I will return promptly when finished. After all, I plan to dance with this handsome nephew to the King. Hopefully his babe will be inside me by this time next year.”