Royal Disaster: The Complete Series

by Casey, Ember

  “Perhaps we can arrange a concert at the Independence Celebration? After the State Dinner?” I look over at Andrew again, hopeful that he understands why this needs to happen. My father may not respect the work that Pax does, but perhaps he only needs to see him performing to understand how important it is to him. To see how talented he is.

  “I’m sure we could arrange that.” Andrew looks first at me, then over at Pax. “Would your bandmates be willing to come to Montovia? Of course, they would be welcome to stay in the palace. It would be a small affair, of course. Much smaller than your band is used to. Our Independence Celebration is only a local affair.” He pauses for a moment. “Of course, if you wanted to wait for the Salt Festival, you would have a much larger audience.”

  “You want me to…perform?” Pax almost growls the words. “Seriously? At some hoity-toity affair where it’s probably all string quartets and opera singers?”

  “It’s not…unheard of to have alternative music at the Independence Celebration.” Andrew’s expression turns almost uncomfortable. “I’m just trying to help. If horseback riding isn’t going to suit you, I just presume—”

  “Stop assuming shit about me.” Pax continues to glare at my eldest brother. “I’ll learn to ride the fucking horse. And I’ll be the best fucking rider this country has ever seen. And if you want me to learn to fence, give me one of those sword things. I’ll learn how to stab people with it, or whatever the fuck it is you do with them. You want me to dance? I’ll be so fucking good at it that I’ll join one of those fucking ballroom dancing competition shows next year. And if you want me to play a fucking concert, give me a microphone. I’ll rock the shit out of your fucking celebration or whatever the fuck it is. If you want—”

  “I think we get it, Pax.” I reach again for his arm, and this time he doesn’t pull away. “No one is suggesting you’re incompetent. I wish you’d see that.” I look over at Andrew, almost pleading with my eyes for help. I don’t know how to get through to Pax. I know on the surface it might seem like I’m setting him up for failure, but nothing could be further from the truth.

  “On the contrary.” Andrew seems to understand what it is I’m thinking. “Like I said, we’re all on your side on this. I know it’s difficult to believe.”

  “Damn right it is.” Pax glares between the two of us. “You know, to be honest…” His expression softens the slightest bit. “It’s almost like you went digging around in my past to try to figure out the things that would be the hardest, most horrible things for me to try to do. And those are what you want me to learn to try to get some old dude—who is never going to like me—to what? Tolerate my presence? It’s not worth it.”

  Andrew’s jaw tightens. “Is my sister worth it to you?”

  “Of course she is. But—”

  “Has she told you what I did for the love of my life?” He cocks his head. “Because, man to man, if you aren’t willing to give up everything…” He glares at Pax for a moment. “And I do mean everything for my sister—”

  “I already have given up everything, haven’t I?” He gives me a look of desperation before turning back to Andrew. “I left my country to come here. I’m doing all this shit…” He waves toward the stables. “I don’t know what more I can do.”

  Andrew lifts a brow. “Then perhaps we were all mistaken.” He looks at Pax for another long moment. “Perhaps my brothers and I were wrong about you after all.”

  Pax

  I hate it that I’m forced to go along with what Ol’ Andy wants, but I’m also not about to let these royals think that they’ve won. Or that they’re better than me. And I definitely don’t want them thinking I’m not good enough for Sophia.

  Okay, so maybe I’m bad at riding horses, but I have plenty of time to learn. In the meantime, I plan to crush it at my dance lessons. As I told Sophia, I already know I’ve got rhythm—I wouldn’t have made it very far as a musician if I didn’t—and I’ve picked up a few moves here and there. Unfortunately, I suspect that’s not quite the style of dancing I’m going to be learning today. But when it comes time for the first lesson and Sophia leads me into a small ballroom on the south side of the palace, I feel as prepared as I can be.

  This time, my instructor is a woman. Frau Lange is a tall, mature woman in her sixties with a big mound of white hair and an angular nose. Her back is as straight as a board, and even though she carries a cane, its only purpose seems to be marking time and stabbing at me when my posture isn’t quite right.

  “Back straight, shoulders back!” she commands me. This time, finally, I get to do my lesson with Sophia, and I stand awkwardly with one hand on her shoulder and the other on her lower back. This is not how we used to slow dance back in high school, but it could be worse. At least I get to hold Sophia.

  “No, no, no,” Frau Lange says, shoving her cane between Sophia and me and swinging it back and forth. “More space! This isn’t your bedroom! People don’t want to see that!”

  “We’re hardly touching,” I point out.

  She glares at me from beneath thin, angular eyebrows. “No talking back! And maintain your distance! Her Highness is a princess and must show some modesty.”

  I roll my eyes at Sophia as Frau Lange strides over to the old record player. Sophia assured me that the palace is hooked up with the finest sound system money can buy, but apparently that’s not the Frau’s style. The speakers crackle as the record begins to play.

  “On my count, let’s begin,” Frau Lange says. “Remember—this one is a count of four. Lead her, but don’t force her. And back straight! One…two…three…and go!”

  I move. My initial speculation was right—the styles Frau Lange has me practicing are nothing like those I’ve done before. But I manage to stay in step as I lead Sophia around the room.

  “You know, you aren’t half bad at this,” Sophia says, smiling. “Looks like we’ve finally found your talent. Who knew you were a great ballroom dancer?”

  “I prefer the term ‘rhythmically awesome’,” I say. “Please don’t ever call me a ballroom dancer. I’ll lose all my street cred.”

  She laughs, and I spin her around, just as Frau Lange showed me.

  I’ve got this. I’ve really got this.

  My instructor seems to think so, too. When we make it back around the ballroom to her, she only pokes me twice with her cane, once in the center of my back and once under the chin, reminding me to keep my face up.

  “Good, good,” she says, when the song ends. “Now let’s try the Montovian Waltz.”

  This one is a little more complicated, but after a few tries, I seem to get it. Frau Lange changes out the record and asks us to go around the room again.

  Sophia is still smiling at me as I sweep her across the floor.

  “What did I tell you?” I say. “I’m not completely incompetent.”

  “No, you just said that we’d specifically picked out lessons you couldn’t do.”

  “I also said to bring it on. I’m not going to let any silly prince lessons beat me.” I twirl her back and forth, and then catch her in my arms again.

  This time, when we move past the door, I see we have an audience. Andrew, apparently, has found better things to do this afternoon, but now Leo and Ol’ Nicky are standing there, watching us. Leo hoots and hollers at us as we pass, and Ol’ Nicky shoots him an exasperated look before turning his assessing gaze back to us.

  “Do you really thing your brothers are looking out for me?” I ask Sophia. “That they’ll continue to defend me to your father?”

  “I think they made their stance pretty clear last night,” she replies. “Just don’t fuck it up. And try not to antagonize Andrew or Nick.”

  “I would never.”

  She raises her eyebrow at me, and I grin.

  “Okay, I would,” I reply. “But only if they deserved it. And they usually do.”

  “Just try.” She shakes her head. “William has offered to teach you fencing, you know. I think you might actually enjoy tha
t.”

  “Prancing around with a pointy stick? What’s not to love?” I’ve started to warm to the idea a bit since this morning.

  The song ends, and we make our way back over to Frau Lange. Leo and Nicky have come to stand beside her.

  “That was acceptable,” Frau Lange says. “But we don’t strive for ‘acceptable’ here. We strive for perfection. I expect to see both of you here again tomorrow for another lesson.”

  “We can do that,” Sophia says. “Can’t we, Pax?”

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug. Better this than horseback riding. My ass is still sore from falling off Cinnamon.

  “In the meantime, our father would like to see you,” Ol’ Nicky says. “Both of you.”

  The smile immediately falls off of Sophia’s face. “Why?”

  “Don’t worry, he’s in a good mood,” Leo says. “Not that his good mood is much better than his bad mood—”

  “What Leo is trying to say is that he doesn’t seem to be upset with either of you,” Nicky cuts in. “For now, anyway. I think he just wants to talk about the wedding. I believe he would like to get the official date on the schedule as soon as possible.”

  Oh, that’s right. I’d completely forgotten that was part of the bargain. I’m not particularly excited about standing up in front of a bunch of strangers in a stuffy suit and dealing with all the frou-frou silliness involved in a royal wedding, but it’s a small price to pay, all things considered.

  Sophia looks up at me. “Well, I guess we should go talk to him then.”

  “Lead the way,” I say.

  As we head toward her father’s office, though, the resistance in the pit of my stomach gets stronger and stronger, and it’s not just because I don’t care about the wedding. Nor is it because we have to deal with His Royal Snootiness again—not that I’m particularly looking forward to that. We’re halfway there before I realize what’s really bothering me.

  Abby.

  She’s still out there, somewhere, hiding from the police. But after everything she’s done, I have a hard time believing this is the end. As long as she’s free, she’s a threat to us, and having a huge royal wedding is going to put the target right on our backs again.

  Only this time, she’ll make sure she gets her real target. My hand tightens on Sophia’s. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her. I don’t know how I’d live with myself.

  But I’m being paranoid, I know. This is probably the safest place we can be—across the ocean from Abby. Surrounded by royal security. I bet if I say something, I can get them to bar her from even entering the country. We’ve got nothing to worry about.

  So for now, at least, I decide to keep my worries to myself.

  Sophia

  The closer we get to my father’s office, the more my stomach begins to tighten to a knot. It isn’t that I don’t want a proper wedding—I’d like nothing more than to show my family exactly how much I love Pax—but something isn’t right. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t here before.

  Pax seems to sense it, too. Being summoned to my father’s office is enough to put anyone in a foul mood, but there’s something else going on.

  His hand tightens around mine, and he looks down at me with a forced smile. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “I thought I was the one who was supposed to comfort you when we faced my father.” I give his hand a squeeze. “And I don’t think anyone can assume things will be fine when you’re about to face the king.”

  He arches a brow. “Power of positive thinking.”

  “If only.” I smile up at him. “But I’m glad you’re thinking positively.”

  “How bad can it be? If he wants to talk about our wedding, it must be okay.” Something washes over his expression, but I can’t quite tell what it is. “We just need to tell him what we want.”

  “What we want?” My brow furrows. “I’m fairly certain that is not how my father will see it. This is one of his conditions, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember.” He works his jaw for a moment. “All too well.”

  I nod. There’s not much more I can say about it—my father has likely already come up with a plan, and he probably thinks he’s being very progressive in telling us about it.

  We arrive at his office, and Stephan is standing in the doorway waiting for us.

  He gives me a slight sneer, not even bothering to look at Pax. “His Majesty has been waiting for you, Your Highness.”

  “We arrived as soon as we could, Stephan. But thank you for warning me.”

  “Hmph.” He lifts his nose in the air and turns to walk across the room to my father’s office. He knocks twice, and then opens the door. “They’ve arrived, Your Majesty.”

  “Send them in,” my father calls, loud enough for us to hear from the outer office.

  Stephan motions with his head, lifting his nose even higher in the air.

  We step around him, and as we do, Pax looks down at him. “Thanks, Stevie.”

  Stephan’s eyes widen in horror, and his mouth drops open.

  I would giggle, but the thought of facing my father has me feeling like I might vomit.

  “Come in, Daughter. Patrick,” my father calls from his desk.

  I close the door behind us, leaving Stephan standing there looking like he’s been sucker punched.

  “Sit.” My father motions for us to take the chairs opposite him.

  Pax and I both sit as my father spreads a stack of papers in front of him.

  “I’ve been thinking quite a lot about your wedding.” My father’s expression is unreadable, just as it always is.

  “So have we, Father.” I glance over at Pax. “I’d like to suggest—”

  “You’ll be able to discuss the details with your mother, of course.” My father’s lips tick into the slightest of smiles. “She does love planning these affairs. And after the last fiasco, she’ll delight in actually having the event take place.”

  He’s talking about my brothers’ weddings—after all the plans my mother made, the event fell through at the last moment.

  I force a smile. “And I’ll love having her plan it. I merely wanted to suggest that we keep it a small, private affair.”

  “Nonsense.” This time, my father actually does smile, one of the rarest sites in all of Montovia. “We’ve decided it will be part of the Independence Celebration. We’ll already have most of the family here for the State Dinner, and all of Montovia will already be celebrating. Penelope thought it would be nice to open it to all the citizens. They’ve suffered enough these past months. As the only princess, your wedding should be cause for celebration.” His smile widens. “It will be the largest party this country has ever seen.”

  Pax is gripping the sides armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

  “Father…” I frown. “It sounds a bit…over the top. I agree that the people deserve a celebration, but that is what the Independence Celebration is about, is it not?”

  He nods, still smiling. “It is, indeed. But this will show our citizens that we value them as much as any member of our family.” He looks over at Pax. “You would agree with that, wouldn’t you, Patrick?”

  “I…” Pax gulps. “I…don’t know.”

  “Of course you know.” My father’s smile falls only slightly. “Our citizens should receive equal treatment, even if they aren’t of royal descent.” He arches a brow, still smiling. “Something tells me there is nothing about this you should disagree with.”

  The hint of a threat in my father’s comments doesn’t go unnoticed by me, and by the way Pax’s expression turns almost sickly, it didn’t for him, either.

  “Father…” I let out a long breath. “I do agree. I love our citizens. Our concern isn’t that. This just seems…” I glance over at Pax. “It’s too much. Even if it is a celebration for the citizens, we don’t want it to be garish. We could have an open reception—invite guests into the palace af
ter the ceremony.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll have an outdoor wedding where anyone who wants to observe may do so. After all, you’re already married. This ceremony is for everyone who…somehow missed your first nuptials.”

  Pax glances up at the ceiling, his hands still firmly affixed to his armrests. “We can’t.”

  Every bit of the happiness—or whatever it was—in my father’s expression drains from his face. “I don’t believe I was asking you.”

  “I…” Pax gulps again. “I know.”

  My father is silent for a long moment, his gaze narrowing at Pax. “You know.” There’s nothing resembling a question in my father’s tone.

  “I…do.” Pax looks like he might vomit, too.

  “I think what my husband is trying to say is that we don’t want a large fuss made over us. We’re very happy. I’m sure you’ve noticed, Father.”

  His glare turns to me. “You agreed to my terms, Sophia. You agreed that if this country was going to recognize your marriage, you would abide by those terms.”

  “I did. And I will…abide by them.” I suck in a breath. “But I think I should have some say in my own wedding.”

  “As I said, you already had a say in your wedding.” He stares at me for an uncomfortable moment. “And your mother and I did not.”

  “You already know the circumstances of our marriage, Father. We didn’t intentionally keep anyone—”

  My father interrupts, still glaring at me. “The largest wedding this country has ever seen. That is what you will have. And I won’t settle for anything less.”

  Pax

  And apparently, the king doesn’t want to waste any time. When we’re dismissed from his presence, that weasel Stephan is waiting for us just outside with orders to whisk us off to the tailors’. I spend the next hour being poked and measured and fitted for my “wedding suit,” which as far as I can tell will be even stiffer and more uncomfortable than that thing they made me wear to dinner. I can only imagine what monstrosity they’re going to make Sophia wear—probably something she can’t even walk in.