by K. S. Thomas
“You’re kind of a genius,” I admit. “Tell me, how did you save poor Abbas from his fate?”
“To be honest, I was a bit torn. Part of me felt bad about dragging him back to this dysfunctional wreckage of royal life.”
“But you still made it happen.”
“Indeed, I did. Only took one little anonymous phone call to let the press know someone from the royal wedding party was staying at the Elite to have the place crawling with members of the media. Of course, for safety reasons, this ended Abbas’s reservation there.”
“And now he’s staying?” I ask, but I have a feeling I know where this is going.
“Did you know the sofa in your sitting room is a pullout?”
“It’s not.”
He pats my shoulder. “It is now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GREER
The forced polite small talk goes on for another hour before one of the maids announces the gentlemen have returned to escort us back to our personal quarters. My mother doesn’t get a gentleman escort. She gets Berta, a darling little old woman who peels potatoes in the kitchen. Apparently, my mother’s room is near hers. Judging by the look on my mother’s face when this information is exchanged, it’s the first she’s learning of her stay among the servants’ quarters.
“You look like you just crawled out of a warzone,” Lachlan mutters under his breath as he takes my hand and places it in the crook of his arm, leading me down the hall and away from the rest of our party.
“Well, I did get locked in a room with both of our mothers for the last two hours,” I mumble.
“I still can’t believe Myrna resorted to bringing your mother here,” he says, his voice gradually getting louder the farther away we get from the others. “I’m so sorry you have to be stuck with her and pretend to be okay with it.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “I dealt with it. She’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“How?”
I shrug. “I agreed to hear her out in exchange for her swift departure. Turns out, she has no interest in getting her slice of my royal life.”
He frowns. “Then what did she come here for?”
My mouth opens to tell him, but the words don’t come. Finally, I close my lips together again and start over. “Forgiveness.” It’s not the same as redemption, but maybe it’s close enough. “She wanted to tell her side of the story.” That much at least is true.
“And do you?”
“Do I what?” My mind is too busy racing in circles trying to sort out why my brain is stopping my mouth from telling him everything to keep up with this conversation. Because it’s Lachlan and up until this very moment, telling him everything has always been easy. Eerily natural even.
“Forgive her?”
Do I? “I think so.” My father has wanted me to for years. I had to hear it all from her to get there. Had to see clearly that she was simply too weak to do better by us. Forgiving her seems easier somehow when it feels unfair to expect more from her. The kind of more she’s clearly not capable of.
“I’m still sorry.” His voice is quiet again and it takes me a second to realize it’s because he’s upset and not because we’ve been joined by someone not meant to overhear us.
“What are you sorry about?” As far as I can tell, he didn’t have anything to do with this. He doesn’t even truly know the reasons behind my mother’s absence.
“If you hadn’t let me turn your whole world upside down, none of this would be happening right now. Your mother would still be out of the picture and you’d still be at peace with it, not churning up past hurts and forcing your way through them just to keep putting on a happy front, which you’re also doing because I asked you to.”
“First of all,” I remind him, “you didn’t ask me to do anything. I offered. Some might even say I coerced you into agreeing to let me come here and do this with you. And second.” I sigh, the emotional exhaustion of tonight finally catching up with me. “This thing we’re doing here, it’s one thing I know I’ll never be sorry about.” It’s a truth I’ve known since I made the decision and I’ve never felt otherwise. Tonight, hearing myself say the words out loud they sound different somehow. Maybe the words haven’t changed, but the context has. Whether I want to admit it or not, my mother’s message of warning isn’t one I’ve never heeded. It’s a whispered caution lingering at the back of my mind every time I get attached to anyone. Despite having inherited my father’s loyalty, I’ve also come by my mother’s ambitious streak. I’ve spent my entire life wondering which of the two would win out if put to the test and I’ve never allowed myself to wind up in a situation I might have to find out I’m just as weak as she is.
Now can be no different. A reality that becomes starkly clear as I repeat my own words inside my head. I’ll never be sorry I agreed to come here. To help Lachlan. To help Mo. Not to fall for the Prince of Linden and risk hurting him and his daughter more than they would have been had I never come around in the first place.
As much as I’ve pretended to deny my own feelings, watching the hurt in his eyes that aches on my behalf, hearing the worry in his voice, it’s all too clear to me that I’ve let things go way too far between us.
If I want to finish what I started here, these feeling need to stop. For both of us. There’s only one way I can see to do that.
“Besides,” I say, shifting my voice to a careless, flat tone. “It’s all pretend anyway, right? When I go back home, real life will return and all of this, including my mother, will cease to exist again.”
LACHLAN
I WANT TO SAY NO. WITH every fiber of my being, I want to say, no, this is not pretend. It’s real. All of it. And nothing and no one will ever undo what has come to life between us, but I can’t. What I realized at dinner is only amplified here in this conversation with her.
Being here with me is causing her to shut down parts of her heart. And the Greer I know, the one I met in New York, is fading rapidly right before my eyes. And I can no longer pretend that it’s all part of her act. Despite her very convincing efforts to lead me to believe that’s all this is. It’s not.
So, I lie. Same as she does.
“I suppose you’re right.” I refocus my eyes to look straight ahead. “I’m still glad your mother is leaving before the wedding. We don’t need any more challenges than necessary when we’re so close to pulling it off.”
“Speaking of challenges,” she says, changing the subject and turning to face me just enough to cause her hand to slip from my arm and putting her at a greater distance from me as we continue to walk. It’s such a subtle move and slight change, I can’t tell if it just happened or if it was intentional. “Katia mentioned the sleeping arrangements for Chase and them was still being worked out,” she goes on casually. “Any idea what’s going on?”
I nod. “My stepmother.”
“Shocking.” Even her sarcasm is subdued.
“Soren straightened everything out,” I assure her. “As long as you don’t mind being roommates with Mallory.”
“The woman who is actually my roommate?” She cocks a bewildered brow at me. “No, I don’t think I’ll mind that.”
“Expect to see plenty of Chase and Abbas too,” I tell her, slowing down as we reach our destination. “They’re bunking with me through the wedding.”
“So just like home then,” she concludes with a small smile. I want to ask if she misses it, home. But I don’t. Instead, I reach for her door handle in silence and lead her inside her suite.
“I’m afraid we won’t be seeing each other much the next few days,” I mumble, lingering in the open doorway.
“Royal things?” she asks, but her voice is missing the disappointment it had on previous occasions.
“Yes,” I confirm, nodding more often than necessary. “Between the wedding and the coronation, we have a lot of loose ends to tie up to ensure a smooth transition.”
“Good,” she says, nodding only once but in slow-motion and I can’t
help but feel we’re both struggling with our desires to agree with things we don’t have our hearts in. “A smooth transition is what we want.”
“Yes.” More nodding. I need to get out of this doorway. “Well, have a good night.” I turn and start into the hall. I get halfway to my own door before I spin back around. “If you need anything –“
“I’ll call Soren,” she finishes for me.
“Exactly.” I catch myself before my head starts shaking up and down again. Then, I force myself to march through my own door and close it behind me without so much as looking up to see if she’s done the same.
The next days pass with even less contact than anticipated and we hardly cross paths outside of dinners and the occasions we happen to be coming or going at the same time. Where before I would stumble upon Greer in Monroe’s room, playing or reading, now I’m told she hasn’t even come by once to visit.
By the time we’re standing outside on the front steps of the castle, waiting to greet my brother and our friends, the distance between us is a screaming silence I’m not sure I know how to overcome. And I don’t want to. However, I’m starting to worry the shift in our relationship is becoming noticeable. No one has said anything, not even Soren, still, I can’t help thinking it must be obvious.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her as she slides her hand into mine. Before I was certain there was a genuine affection in the gesture, now it’s every bit the formality it was always meant to be.
“You’re looking very handsome yourself,” she says with a smile that never reaches her eyes. I know I should be grateful she’s making this so easy. Meeting my distance with her own. But I can’t deny the increasing ache in my heart every time I’m forced to face the fact our engagement is nothing but the act it was intended as.
“Soren said you requested lunch be brought to your loft today.”
She nods. “Lunch for two.” She smiles again. This time it’s more genuine. “I have a feeling Mal is going to need some one-on-one time when she gets here.”
That reminds me. “Any progress on the Mallory and Abbas front?”
“If by progress you mean Mal requesting that I set her up with someone from Linden for the wedding, so she doesn’t have to admit Abbas is her date, then yes.”
I almost laugh at that. But I felt the cool stare of my stepmother boring into the side of my head a moment ago and stop myself. “Were you able to find her a suitable escort?”
She shrugs ever so slightly. Apparently, she’s also aware of the queen’s presence. “I told Soren he had to pretend to be her date. He agreed, but only because I promised him she’d crack and spill her Abbas feelings all over the place before the wedding, thus relieving him of his obligations.”
I sigh, allowing myself a second of comfort in this middle ground where we’re almost the same two people we were before everything went awry. “Glad to hear you have it all under control.”
“All part of a future queen’s duties, I’m sure.” She sounds serious, but the corners of her mouth curve just enough to give her away.
Then, before either of us can get lost in the familiar chit chat any further, the car arrives. And with it, Chase, Abbas and Mallory.
As this isn’t Chase’s first visit, he knows to stay in the car until a footman arrives to open the door and direct him onward toward the stairs. Abbas and Mallory either don’t notice the attempt at formalities, or they simply don’t care. In any event, the car hasn’t even come to a complete stop, when the first door swings open and Mallory practically leaps out, Abbas scrambling after her.
“Can you at least wait until we’re not moving?” he huffs loud enough for half of Linden to hear, catching her elbow just as she loses her balance. “If you’re not careful, your face is going to get up close and personal with Linden’s asphalt.”
“Rude.” She shakes her arm free from his grip. “If you hadn’t pushed me out in such a hurry, I never would have tripped.”
I can see his mouth move in response, but as we’ve only made it halfway down the steps to greet their disaster, I can’t make out the words.
Several members of the castle staff make it to Mallory and Abbas before we do and by the time we reach them, both are upright and joined by Chase who is endlessly amused by their embarrassing antics.
“I can’t believe you were running late to meet me,” Mallory chides Greer even as she’s wrapping both arms around her friend in an enthusiastic hug.
“I was not running late,” Greer responds indignantly, still fully engulfed by their embrace.
“I literally saw you running to get here,” Mallory insists, slowly releasing her.
“Yes, running to get here.” Greer gestures at the sidewalk and adjoining circular driveway before turning around to point up the stairs and to the landing we were standing on. “Because we were up there, waiting. Not running late. Perfectly punctual. So punctual in fact, we had time to watch your car make the whole loop before you fell out of the backseat.”
Mallory makes a face. “If you were early, why didn’t you come down?”
“Because it’s not proper for the royals to meet their guests in the driveway,” Chase chimes in as he steps around their craziness to shake my hand. “They don’t hug either. You have to wait until you’re in private, which by the way only happens in the bathroom, or possibly a closet, around here.”
“Oh.” Mallory looks temporarily stumped.
“Do I shake your hands too?” Abbas asks, sliding both hands into his pockets even as he’s asking as if to make sure he doesn’t do the wrong thing with them before hearing proper protocol.
“Technically, you’re expected to bow,” I inform him. “But technicalities seem pretty obsolete at this point.” I reach out to pat his shoulder, since his hands are both tucked away. “Come on, let’s go up the stairs and start over.”
“You want us to say hello a second time?” Mallory asks from right behind Greer, who has naturally fallen in at my side again as we make our way up to the landing.
“Not to us,” I explain. “My father and stepmother, the king and queen, are up there waiting to welcome you into their home.”
“Definitely do the technical thing and bow,” Chase warns under his breath. “Apsel is cool in a closet too, but the queen is all about formalities.”
“I heard she’s scary,” Abbas hisses.
“She is,” Greer confirms without looking back. “Super scary. Like, make your knees wobble when you’re near her scary, which makes bowing or dropping down into a curtsy especially precarious.”
“What happens if your wobbly knees make you fall on your face?” Mallory whispers in a panic.
“The dungeon.” Chase doesn’t even skip a beat jumping in on that one.
“You all really have one of those?” Abbas asks, clearly torn about whether to believe Chase or call his bluff and laugh. I don’t blame him. Chase is my brother and half the time I still can’t tell when he’s being serious or when he’s messing with me.
“We do,” I admit. “But we hardly ever use them.” I can’t help myself. Chase laid the perfect foundation.
“I’ll have Cheese bring you bits of crackers if you wind up down there,” Greer offers.
“You’re all assholes,” Abbas mutters under his breath. “Royal assholes.”
“So fancy,” Greer muses but she refrains from smirking the way she normally would. We’ve reached the top of the stairs, and with them, my parents.
While there would certainly be entertaining aspects to drawing out introductions between Myrna, Mallory and Abbas, there’s still the one undeniable fact that I simply don’t enjoy my stepmother’s company. And so, I do my best to hurry the introductions along, for no other reason than I’m ready to get away from her.
As always, Soren meets us just inside the grand doors, falling into step beside me and rattling on a mile a minute about everything he thinks I need to know right this very minute.
“Lunch is set to be served in each of your suites
at precisely twelve o’clock. Maids are awaiting the luggage on both sides of the hall to unpack and press whatever requires it. And Katia has just notified me that Simon Sidka has arrived and will be escorted to your formal sitting room for the final fitting of your wedding day attire. She also informed me of Anke’s impending arrival, though your father has requested a visit over coffee and biscuits with her prior to her joining Greer and her bridal party in the tearoom.”
I frown. “Which tearoom?”
He clears his throat. “The queen’s. She insisted.” He lets out an audible sigh. “It was either this or have her bring her entourage to Greer’s loft.”
“Tearoom works.” I glance sideways at Greer. Her expression is neutral, but I can tell from the way she keeps straightening her shoulders, she heard.
“There should be plenty of time for everyone to freshen up before their final fittings. The kitchen is on hold for any requests in terms of refreshments.” He pauses while we make the final turn toward our rooms. “Also, I left a copy of your brother’s schedule on your desk for your review.”
“Chase has his own schedule?” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. My stepmother isn’t exactly fond of him.
“No. Your other brother,” Soren says stiffly. “Seems he’s volunteered himself to fill in as needed during your absence while you prepare for you big day.”