A week ago, I wouldn’t have given anything a second thought. I believed everything my mother had told me about the Farcliff royal family, and I’d grown up in blissful ignorance surrounded by the forest, birds, and my three lovely aunts. I believed that Farcliff was dangerous, and that the royal family wanted to cause us harm.
But now, I’m not so sure.
Elle thankfully leaves for class, and I’m left alone. I mope around my house and finally pull myself together for class. My phone dings—a message from a guy I was seeing last week. It just says ‘Hey’.
How original.
I don’t want to text this guy. Nothing about him was interesting. Nothing about him was exciting. Even his message is boring.
He’s not Damon Farcliff.
Yet, I know in my heart of hearts that I have to keep my distance from Prince Damon. If only for my mother, or for my own peace of mind.
I unlock my phone, and instead of answering the text, I find Damon’s number. My fingers hover over the name and I take a deep breath.
With a couple taps, I delete his phone number and erase the few texts we’ve sent each other. I wipe any memory of him off my phone—there isn’t much, but there’s enough.
I bite my lip and let out a heavy sigh. I need to stay away from the castle and the entire royal family.
Staying away means no more Prince Damon. No more dinners. No more heat in the pit of my stomach and definitely no orgasms on the Throne of Farcliff.
15
Damon
When I wake up, my head isn’t exactly clear, but at least it’s empty. The blankets on my small cot are scratchy and they smell stale. I push myself up to a seated position and glance around the room. My body screams in pain. The ceiling has a bit water stain, and the walls are bare concrete.
There’s a bottle of water on the side table, and the sight of it makes me realize how dry my mouth feels. I reach for the water, wincing as pain flashes through my ribs. I crack the bottle open and drink half of it in one gulp. It’s lukewarm and it tastes like plastic, but I groan in satisfaction.
I stand up gingerly, every movement sending more daggers of pain stabbing through my chest. I lift my shirt up and look at my ribs. They’re mottled blue and purple—almost black in places. My left hip is sore, and when I move, it feels like all my bones and joints are out of whack.
But when I bring my hands up to my face, it feels exactly as it did yesterday. No cuts, no swelling, no bruises.
I leave some money on the side table as a tip. It helps keep people quiet when they’re well paid. Gathering my car keys, I make my way outside.
When I walk out into the main room, the makeshift boxing ring has disappeared. The warehouse is empty. Everyone is gone. The only evidence of last night’s fights is a couple of faded blood splatters on the wall. Dragging my feet over to the exit, I push it open and wince.
The sunlight needles my eyes and I bring a forearm up to shield my face. Lifting my arm up sends a jolt of pain through my side and I gasp. I shuffle to the driver’s side door and get in, fumbling with the center console to get my sunglasses. When I have them on, I breathe a sigh of relief.
My mind feels blank—exactly how I want it. The spiraling, chaotic thoughts that brought me here last night are gone.
In that moment, alone in my car, I think of Dahlia again. I think of her body, boneless and broken on top of me when we fucked on the Throne of Farcliff. I think of her smile, her voice, her smell.
It doesn’t hurt like it did last night. Even knowing that I probably won’t see her again doesn’t make me sad.
I don’t feel anything.
If a hint of a feeling starts to thread its way through my heart, all I have to do is move my body a fraction of an inch and the agony clears my head again.
She’s gone.
I find my phone in the glove compartment and turn it on. I find Dahlia’s number and stare at it for a minute or two. Then, with a sigh, I lock my phone and put it away.
If she wants to call me, she can call me. I’m not going to chase after a woman. It’s not what a Prince does.
I make my way home and I lock myself in my bedroom. I shower, I change, and I sit down in front of my textbooks to study.
Dahlia doesn’t call—not for months. Even at the Spring Regatta, where Elle competes and the entire royal family is there to watch, Dahlia isn’t anywhere to be seen. I think I catch a glimpse of someone in a furry pink jacket, but I’m whisked away before I can be sure it’s her.
In my heart, though, I know it’s her. Who else would wear something like that?
Instead of pining over her, I do what I’ve always done—I throw myself into my studies. I don’t go out, I don’t party, or drink, or date. I forget about Dahlia.
Well, forget is the wrong word. I think about her all the time, and it drives me crazy. How could someone have such an effect on me after just a couple of days?
But she never calls me back, and my pride stops me from reaching out to her. I just let it go.
It was fun, we fucked, and that was it. We weren’t even dating for real—we were just helping Charlie out.
Now, it’s over.
Thankfully, come autumn, my medical residency starts at the Farcliff General Hospital, and I don’t have time to think about much else. I don’t need Ravi to beat me up anymore, because I’m so tired I can’t think of anything except my studies. My rotations are four weeks long, each in different departments at the hospital. I put my hand up for the night shift more often than any other person.
My doubts about medical school start to fade away as I spend more and more time at the hospital. My attending physician, Dr. Adler, is a no-nonsense woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.
I’m exhausted most of the time.
In the dead of night, though, when my eyes are heavy and I drift in the space between wakefulness and sleep, I think of Dahlia. She creeps into my dreams uninvited. In a hidden corner of my heart, where only the truth can live, I know that I have to see her again.
16
Dahlia
The months that I spend apart from Prince Damon feel like living in perpetual night. He’s the sun, and I know he’s there—I just can’t see him. There’s a world between us. I spend my days in darkness, without his warmth, or light, or his life-giving energy.
I finish off my junior year at Farcliff University and head down to California, where my parents have been living. It’s been three months since my mother had her fall and broke her hip, and now she’s back on her feet again. My parents wrap me in a warm hug when I arrive and I paint a smile on my face.
College is good, I tell them. Elle is doing well, I say.
I don’t mention Prince Damon, for obvious reasons.
I bring them a jar of coveted Farcliff honey, which they haven’t tasted since their exile. My father smiles wide and plants a kiss on my cheek. My mother turns her nose up, and says that she thinks my bee allergy was caused by the honeybees at the royal hives.
When I’m sure that my mother is fine, and I’ve convinced myself that breaking it off with the Prince was the right decision, I go home to my aunts in Colorado. After a month with my aunts, listening to the crickets in the evening and the birds in the morning, I feel like I’m going to explode.
I’m restless.
I toss and turn in my bed every night, wondering what it would feel like to have the weight of Damon’s arm across my body. I can’t stop thinking about him—wondering, wishing, hoping.
Trying to forget.
Finally, halfway through the summer, I head back to Farcliff. Elle is pregnant with Prince Charlie’s baby—but I’ll let her tell that story for herself. I tell my aunts that she needs my help.
Mostly, though, I’m just too far away from Damon—not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.
In September, classes start again, and I have more than enough going on to keep myself distracted. I get an internship at one of Farcliff University’s labs, so I’m busy with school, work, and research.
My bed stays cold and empty, because I can’t bring myself to replace the Prince. I’ll eventually go back to my old ways, I tell myself. I’ll sleep with someone else, and I’ll get over the Prince—just not tonight.
Or the next night.
Or the next.
When I try to flirt with someone, I lose interest. When I try to bring myself to date, it feels wrong. I even stopped taking my birth control. My prescription ran out, and I didn’t see the point in getting another. If I’m not having sex, why would I?
One evening in mid-September, Elle’s baby kicks. We smile and squeal in excitement together. Elle, heartbroken as she is over Prince Charlie, is happy.
She glances at me. “I haven’t heard any marathon sex sessions in a while. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, giving her a tight smile. “Just a dry spell, I guess.”
I can see it in her face that she doesn’t believe me, but I can’t tell her about Prince Damon now—not after her secret relationship with Prince Charlie fell apart.
Then, we flick on the television and find out Charlie’s wedding is set for the first of November. Elle’s heart breaks all over again, and I push thoughts of Prince Charlie’s brother into the back corner of my mind—hidden from everybody, including myself.
The Princes of Farcliff are officially dead to us.
How is it that months can drag on and on, and yet at the same time, they go by in a flash?
Life just marches onward, and I’m carried along by its current. In a way, it feels like I’m watching life happen to everyone around me. Elle’s baby bump grows, and grows, and grows. She pulls herself together and works harder than I’ve ever seen her work and gets ready to be a mother.
I’m proud of her.
But me? What do I do?
I go to school and study. I work at the lab. I watch Elle become a woman.
I pine after a man that I knew for a week, nearly eight months ago.
I’m adrift, aimless, and maybe a little pathetic. Anton Chekhov once said: When a person is born, he can embark on only one of three roads of life: if you go right, the wolves will eat you; if you go left, you’ll eat the wolves; if you go straight, you’ll eat yourself.
I guess this is what it feels like to eat myself.
In those months, I realize that there is no curse. There’s just me—my hopes, my fears, my strengths and everything else inside me that holds me back. No, there’s no all-knowing curse that drags my life down at every turn. I do that to myself.
Aunt Theresa was right—I’m just clumsy.
When Prince Charlie proposes to Elle in November, my heart nearly explodes of happiness for her. It’s the first time in a long time that I feel anything. The King abdicates, and we find out the Queen was murdered. How, exactly, isn’t clear yet, but there’s evidence of foul play.
My mother was right all those years ago. My heart skips at the thought—maybe this is it! Maybe this is the moment that the Raventhals are redeemed! Maybe… I shake my head before I can think of the Prince too deeply.
I call my mother as soon as I hear the news, and all she does is sigh in response. My heart sinks.
Farcliff Kingdom falls into complete panic. Charlie is named King, which means Elle will become the new Queen of Farcliff. After the drama of Charlie’s proposal dies down—which is her story to tell—Elle comes back to our little old house on the edge of Grimdale and asks me to move to the castle with her.
She lowers herself down onto our old couch, her pregnant stomach looking like it’s ready to pop at any moment. She’s glowing, and not just in the pregnancy kind of way. She looks so happy it’s impossible not to smile with her.
“There’s more than enough room for you, Dahlia. Now that the King has abdicated, you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable at the castle. Things are different, now.”
I suck in a breath and look away. It’s hard to see her like this—so happy and in love—when I still feel uneasy. I’m happy for her, of course, but it’s hard to shake feelings that I’ve carried with me my whole life. Besides, how would I face Damon? Has he moved on? Am I just supposed to move into the same building as him and we pick up where we left off?
Ha! As if!
“I think I’d rather stay here,” I say, motioning to our dilapidated house. “All my stuff is here.”
“We can move your stuff, Dahl,” Elle smiles. “It would take a couple hours at most. I can get some men from the castle to help.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Are you still worried about the royal family?”
“A little,” I admit.
“Even though I’m marrying one of them?”
“Charlie’s different.”
Elle sighs. “I think the King was a bad apple, Dahlia. You don’t have to be scared of the royal family anymore. Invite your parents back to Farcliff.”
I wring my hands and bite my lip. “I’ll ask them,” I finally say. I already know how my mother feels—she’s not in any rush to come back here.
Still, something stirs in my chest—something I haven’t felt in a long time. My thoughts bounce between Prince Damon, my mother and father, and Elle at the castle with Charlie.
To their baby…
…and I feel hope.
What if…
Elle takes a seat beside me on the couch in our living room—well, I guess it’s just my living room now—and she looks around the house with a faraway look in her eyes. I can tell what she’s doing. She’s saying goodbye to this place—where we’ve had so many good times and bad times together. Where we became adults together.
Where she lived when she fell in love.
And me?
Well, I’m still here. Still afraid of the castle. Still torn between my duty to my family and my desire to be my own person. Still thinking of my evening sitting on the Throne of Farcliff.
Elle glances at me. “What about Damon?”
My spine stiffens. “What about him?”
“He’d like to see you at the castle.”
“Would he?” I scoff. I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, I’m still a Raventhal. Just because my mother was right about the Queen’s death, doesn’t mean they’ll welcome us back with open arms.”
“Of course they will, Dahlia,” Elle smiles. “Charlie said so himself. No one resents the Raventhals anymore.”
“The King does. His sister does. The investigation is still ongoing. How do we know who we can trust at the castle and who we can’t?”
Excuses, excuses, excuses. That’s all I hear coming out of my own mouth, when what’s really holding me back is the thought of facing Damon again.
“The King isn’t the King anymore,” Elle says gently. “Charlie is King, now, and he doesn’t hold it against you. He loves you—just like I do.”
I smile sadly and take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to explain it, Elle… It just makes me uneasy to go to the castle.”
“Even now?”
“Even now.”
Elle sighs. “Okay. Well, at least be my maid of honor.”
I turn to look at her and a smile tugs at my lips. “Really?”
“Really. I wouldn’t want anyone else at my side. The wedding is in two weeks, and I don’t want to do it without you.”
My face breaks into a smile and I lean on Elle’s shoulder. She has one hand on her pregnant stomach, and she hooks the other arm around my back.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married so soon.”
“Got to do it before this little monster comes out,” she says. I can hear the grin in her voice. I watch her rub her hand over her belly. “So, that’s a yes?” She asks.
“Of course it’s a yes,” I laugh. “I’ll go to the castle for your wedding, at least, even if I don’t want to move there.”
Elle squeezes my shoulder. “Deal. Once the investigation is over, will you reconsider coming to the castle? I would
love to have a familiar face there.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and nod, smiling. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
Elle heaves herself up to her feet and lets out a breath. “I’m looking forward to getting this baby out, I can tell you that much.”
“Can’t wait to meet him.” I smile.
She gives me a hug and walks toward the front door. There are security guards waiting outside the door, and two more men waiting by a black sedan with tinted windows. Elle lets one of the security guards help her in and I watch from the front porch, giving her one last wave as my best friend is driven back to the castle by her entourage.
To her new home.
I turn back to my old house with a sigh. Things have changed—I know they have. I should face the castle, face my fears, and face the Prince.
Prince Damon did something to me in that throne room, and it scares me. I’m not the type of person who drops everything for a man I don’t know, or stays hung up on someone for months. I’m not the type of person who gets thrown off so easily.
Damon throws me off. Even when he doesn’t know he’s doing it—when I haven’t seen him in months—he still makes my head spin.
I scoff, shaking my head. This year has been so turbulent that I need a break just to make sense of it all.
I don’t want to move to the castle. I don’t want to be that close to him, because it strips me of all my defenses and makes me feel like I don’t know myself anymore.
But when I enter my house again, looking around at the peeling paint and dust bunnies in the corners, I let out a deep breath and bring my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
The King abdicated, and there’s a royal inquest into the former Queen’s death. All the questions I have about the past, about my mother, about my childhood—they could all be answered.
This changes everything.
There it is again—hope. Fickle, unreliable, heartbreaking hope.
Royally Unexpected: An Accidental Pregnancy Collection Page 28