Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1)

by RAE STAPLETON

  Sapphira waited until Chloe’s footsteps died away then walked to the hearth, pushing on a stone. The fireplace ground to an open position revealing a dark, empty passage. It was in that moment that Alastríona returned.

  Finger to her lips, Sapphira winked and stepped inside, closing the passage behind her. Taking a deep breath, she began to tread softly down the darkened corridor. She was scared, now that the moment had come, but she refused to let herself think about what would happen if she were caught.

  At the end of the hall she stepped out of the passage, her back pressed against a wall, just out of sight. She need only to cross two feet in the open to reach the other passage. She flinched as she heard her own name. She recognized at once the voices of her mother and the Comte. What were those two plotting now? She pushed on a panel to her left and disappeared once again behind the Rococo splendor of the mirrored panel.

  “You’re cross. Why don’t you offer for her then? You know I’ve wanted the two of you to wed for this past year. It’s past time she had a husband.”

  “I tried but the Prince doesn’t find me worthy of her. He has plans to wed her off to this Graf of Württemberg. Apparently, a foreigner is more desirable than I. Perhaps you could speak to him, he is your son.”

  Sapphira bit her lip and focused on the gold, Baccarat chandeliers to keep from screaming. That man was absolutely infuriating. If only one of the chandeliers would fall on his head and end all of her troubles.

  “I will speak to him when he returns but if his mind is made up then there is little I can do. Knowing him, he’ll consider Sapphira’s preference over mine.”

  He snorted. “Most women her age have no say.”

  “I know. I certainly didn’t but most women have not been coddled as she has. It’s made her difficult, to say the least, but she’ll not want to move away. When it comes down to it, she’ll see it our way.”

  Sapphira almost snorted. Not bloody likely. Getting away from this Palace would be a treat. The only person she liked was her brother and he was now gone all of the time. As interesting as this conversation was—it was time to meet Francois in the courtyard. She sped through the passage, looking to slip out through the other exit.

  SIX

  France, Present Day

  N ick hung up the phone and pocketed his cell. “I need a drink,” he said, grabbing my arm and toting me along the catamaran as it began to move. “That was the old man—in one of his moods.”

  I looked away knowingly. His father’s phone calls always put him on edge.

  “I’m to be in Greece next week, ready to help expand the company.”

  I stared out at the water, cobalt waves lapping against the boat, as we lazily sailed toward Croisette.

  “Two beers, two shots of tequila and a mimosa for the lady,” Nick demanded, of the man behind the bar.

  I shook my head and smiled. “Just a water, please.” I turned my attention back to Nick. “This isn’t new. Your father always says that.”

  I thought back to the very first time I’d met Nick in France. I’d been so impressed with him then. So confident and worldly, now his antics just seemed childish and narcissistic.

  “He’s threatening to disinherit me. We’re going to have to suck it up.”

  “We?” I questioned, as the bartender handed me a flute filled with bubbly orange champagne.

  “Of course, we! You’re coming with me,” he said, accepting the beers and downing the first one with his usual ferocity.

  “Nick, we’ve been through this. I can’t up and move.” I turned to the bartender who’d dropped off the shots and already walked away to serve another guest. “Excuse me. Could I get that water?”

  “Do you expect me to go alone? Find someone else?”

  He could be so dramatic. I ignored him and, giving up on the bartender, sipped the mimosa. Neither of us spoke until we dropped anchor minutes later, along the northern shore of Ile Sainte-Marguerite, the largest of the Lérins Islands. A flotilla of yachts dotted the shallow waters.

  “Do you want to take a dip in the water?” I asked, thinking about how he couldn’t bother me if we were underwater snorkeling.

  “Too cold.”

  “Too cold? It’s like 73 degrees and tons of people are in the water.”

  “Let’s explore the island first.”

  “Since when do you like to explore?” I gave him a suspicious look.

  “You question everything, you know that?” he replied, downing his second shot of tequila.

  “You drink too much, you know that?” I retorted.

  “We’re on holiday. Loosen up.”

  Nick was always on holiday. He was a playboy with Daddy’s pocketbook close at hand. No wonder Bexx, Sr. was drawing the line.

  “Sophia! Will you hurry up?”

  “Geez, Nick. What’s the rush? I thought we were going for a stroll.” I hurried to catch up to him at the top of the hill. “Look, there’s the fortress where the Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned.”

  The bibliophile in me was always bursting with these silly, little facts. Not surprisingly, Nick ignored my comment. He was stewing from the phone call, he hated being ordered about by his father and, even more, he hated when I then refused to be ordered about by him.

  We followed the path and it led us through a thick forest of eucalyptus and pine trees. The breeze shifted and I picked up whiffs of sweet honeysuckle. Finally, he stopped at the edge of the cliff. We were just south of the yachts anchored below when he turned to me in a dramatic fashion.

  “I need you with me, babe.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

  “What… no, that’s not what I mean. I need you to come to Europe with me.”

  This again. “You travel without me all the time. What’s the difference now?”

  “I’m with friends when I travel. If I move there, I’ll be living on my own.”

  “Oh, Nick.” I didn’t mean to laugh but it slipped out. “You need to stand on your own two feet. You’re heir to one of Europe’s largest shipping fortunes. Besides, you have about a zillion friends in Greece and you’ll be so busy with them and your father’s company that you won’t even notice me.”

  “What kind of thing is that to say?”

  “I’m sorry, Nick, but it’s true. I’m invisible half of the time and that’s when you aren’t being forced to work. Think about it and you’ll see I’m right. Not to mention I just got a job offer from the university—my dream job.”

  “Spare me, you hate that place. You just dropped out. Face it, Sophia, we’re peas in a pod. We belong together.”

  I mustered up my dirtiest look. “We’re nothing alike, and while I may be going through a wanderlust phase. I’m only twenty. You on the other hand, need to grow the hell up.”

  “You act like an old woman, and that’s really what this is about. An old woman—Gigi.” He uttered her name slowly, and with disgust, as if the very letters tasted of sour milk.

  “Sure, to some degree. I also won’t leave Gigi.”

  “She’s your great-grandmother, for God’s sake. I barely even see my family.” Nick’s voice was cold. “She’s old—you need your own life.”

  I shot him a look of malice. “Gigi raised me, and I won’t abandon her when she has no one left.”

  “So, we’ll bring her.”

  I tilted my head, pondering the thought. There was no way Gigi would live under the same roof as Nick although, if anyone could knock some manners into him, it was her. I smiled at the thought, which he mistakenly took as encouragement.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “No, it is not a yes. I’ve already accepted the job.”

  “Who cares about that shithole?” I winced. Not that he noticed. “I’ll buy you a ton of stupid, old books and you can fill up a whole wing in our new mansion.” He dropped to one knee, pulling something from his pocket.

  Oh, please God, no. I was instantly nauseous.

  “Sofa,” he smil
ed, sweetly, whispering his annoying nickname for me. “Je t'aime de tout mon coeur.”

  This wasn’t happening.

  “Nick. Stop.”

  “I mean it, I love you and I planned to do this anyway but considering the old man’s phone call, well, this is all just falling into place. Say you’ll marry me and move to Greece. You’ll never have to see Betty again. I promise.”

  I glanced down. The ring was gaudy with a huge pink diamond and a band that resembled a bow. I looked at my hand where Gigi’s ring sat, pulsating on my finger.

  “I can’t.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes as he stood and snapped the ring box shut.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  For a moment I expected him to hit me. Then he grabbed me, biting down hard on my lip.

  It was a strange reaction and I squirmed to get free.

  This only made him grip on to my arms tighter. Then he stepped forward, pushing me to the edge and leaning me out over it.

  SEVEN

  Blood Moon, Kingdom of Sardinia, 1857

  F rancois was late. A cool wind had risen and whipped at the jewels carefully pinned to Sapphira’s braid.

  “Good evening, Princess.”

  “Oh, good evening, Baron,” Princess Sapphira turned, surprised and disappointed that she’d been found so easily in the courtyard.

  “Enjoying the fresh air?”

  “Yes. It’s lovely. Have you seen Francois?” she asked, still searching the horizon for her missing servant.

  “Who?” the Baron questioned.

  “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  “Perhaps I should escort you back inside. Your chaperone would not like us being out here alone. It’s not suitable.”

  “In a moment. What chaperone do you speak of?”

  “The Comte de Chalais.”

  “Henri?” Sapphira’s gaze flew to the Baron’s face.

  “Is it true you’re betrothed to him? That’s what they say.”

  “Of course not. Who are they?”

  “Everyone.” He shrugged.

  “He is nothing to me or the Prince. He does not belong here. My mother and her advisor allow him at court and I tolerate him. He may hold delusions of being my husband, but I disagree.”

  “Of course.” The Baron looked faintly shocked. “I didn’t mean to upset—”

  He was coming. Henri, the Comte de Chalais. Sapphira smothered a leap of panic as she caught sight of him in the doorway. He was moving deliberately, almost menacingly, down the stairs. Now, how would she find Francois?

  “Good evening, Baron,” Henri said, coming toward them. “I believe it’s a little cool out here. Why don’t you go inside? We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Yes, the Baron and I were just going in,” Sapphira said quickly, stepping forward.

  Henri blocked her way, his face coming entirely too close. Her heart sped up as he turned back to the other man.

  “Go ahead, Baron. We’ll be right in. I need a word with the lady Sapphira. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  The Baron glanced nervously from Sapphira to Henri and then scurried away across the courtyard. Traitor.

  Deciding one should never show a mad dog fear, she met his sharp gaze full-on. He was a self-important arse. “You have no right to be irritated. You have no claim on me.”

  “Is that so? Your mother disagrees,” he smiled as if he knew a vastly entertaining secret.

  “She’s delusional as well, then.”

  “Admit it. Our last kiss was rather thrilling. Tell me you don’t fancy the idea of another.”

  “First and last kiss,” She reminded him. “She should have known the scoundrel would bring that up.”

  “You may not realize it, but you force me into a corner. I demand you wed me before you are betrothed to this silly foreigner.”

  “I loathe you.”

  “I… care about you.”

  “No, you don’t. You care about power.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s true. I also care about power. We could rule these lands together. Wed me.” He tried to smile. “You could hardly do better. I wish you to come to me freely, but I will force you if I must. You must know there are ways. For instance, if you are with child…”

  “I will never agree to marry you, and my brother will never force me.”

  “Well, then, I guess your brother will have to be dealt with. Just like your little rat friend, Francois.”

  “Francois? What have you done with him?”

  His eyes danced now, and Sapphira knew she was a mouse that had been caught by an all too clever cat.

  “Whatever do you mean, Princess?” Darkness shifted over his features. “I’ve done nothing with him. I did hear that he would no longer be employed here.”

  Sapphira’s stomach churned at the words. She turned and raced for the stone steps that wound down to the carriage. As she groped her way along the wall, she was half-conscious of noises growing closer.

  Then she heard it—the sound of Francois’s desperate pleas.

  He had a bag over his head and he was being forced into a carriage.

  Sapphira turned and ran back through the tunnel to the staircase, tripping on her long skirts in her haste to escape and ran into the straight-faced, Irish girl.

  “Alastríona. You scared me.” Sapphira said, wiping the tears from her eyes. It wouldn’t due to appear weak in front of the servants.

  “Is somethin’ the matter, Yer Highness, you look right upset. Did Francois stand ye up?”

  “Francois is gone.” Sapphira felt a sob break loose. “I caution you, Alastríona, for your own safety, don’t tell anyone you helped me.”

  “Aye. I won’t tell a soul. If I may ask why?”

  “The Comte, he takes everyone I care about away from me, but I have a plan. The Graf has come for me and I will be his.”

  “Very good, Ma’am. She turned to leave but stopped again. “Oh, I left something for ye on yer bed. T’was delivered today.”

  Sapphira smiled. “That must be my birthday present. Thank you.”

  “Might I suggest you carry it tonight. Might bring ye good luck.”

  “Carry it? Is it not my birthday amulet?”

  “No, sorry Ma’am. Looks to be a jewel—a radiant one at that. Most impressive.”

  Sapphira nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see to the royal jeweler myself then.”

  EIGHT

  France, Present Day

  M y feet teetered on the edge while my hair whipped on the wind.

  “Say you’ll come with me, Sophia, and I’ll pull you back in.”

  “Nick! Stop it!” I cried. Was he really going to drop me into the waves below?

  He continued to dangle me out over the edge, even letting out a low chuckle.

  “I’m serious! Don’t drop me!” My heart was thudding wildly in my chest now. “This isn’t funny!”

  It was over in a flash and he pulled me in. I stared at him, frightened to find his eyes unresponsive and dark. “What the hell was that?”

  “What? I was just teasing,” he said, looking half concerned as I attempted to shove past him. He grabbed my wrist, forcing me back to the edge of the cliff. “Not so fast. Where did that come from?”

  “What?” I shifted my feet against the loose rocks trying to gain better footing. They really needed a fence up here.

  “Are you screwing around on me?” His voice sent a shiver down my spine.

  I glanced down and realized he was talking about Gigi’s ring, which I’d inadvertently placed on my left ring finger.

  “No.” I could hardly find the words before he let me go.

  I was free falling. Had I slipped out of his grasp or had he really just let me go?

  It was like a bad dream.

  I hit the water with a thud which drove a terrible stinging sensation into my nasal passage. I barely had time to register the cold before I drifted deeper into the water. I swam but it was futile without knowing which way was up.
I tried to remember everything I’d ever heard about drowning but nothing came to me except my Gigi’s short but sweet advice.

  Don’t panic.

  In the distance, an electric-blue fish and an ugly, black eel swam for me. My lungs wanted to explode with fright. I turned the other way and headed for the abyss off in the distance. I’d barely blinked before I was over top of it—over some sort of deep dark cavern. How had I gotten over here so fast? I’m losing oxygen—not thinking straight. There were no fish around me anymore; instead there was a light radiating from within the cavern. It dawned on me that my lungs no longer hurt but my finger was once again tingling. Like when I’d put on Gigi’s jewels this morning. The sensation was spreading throughout my whole body as if the strange light was slowly drawing me in.

  ***

  There was a deep humming that nagged at my ears and a blackness that lingered. It had been there for ages. Heavy and honey thick, seductive yet painful, too. I only wished to keep still, in that blackness, until the throbbing in my temples went away but the sound of heavy footsteps grew closer. The door opened and a strong musk stung my nostrils. I burrowed deeper into my cocoon of darkness but the bed sunk under the strain of company. The movement was too much, and a wave of nausea rolled in.

  I swallowed it back down. “Nick,” I whispered. “What happened?”

  His hand stroked my hair before trailing slowly to my ribs, making me very aware of the thin fabric tangled at my waist. As I peeked one eye open, my vision blurred, and my eyes stung from the salty ocean.

  “Nick,” I repeated. “What happened?”

  His hand caressed my nipples, first one and then the other, which responded against my better judgment. What is he doing? My head throbbed. The room spun as I attempted to sit up.

  “The light,” I said.

  “Shhh,” he soothed, laying me back down. I was weak.

  “What happened?” I asked, pushing back at him.

  My sinuses burned, and my eyeballs felt like they’d burst out of my head.