Royal Mistake #5

by Renna Peak

  Royal Mistake #5

  Renna Peak

  Ember Casey

  Casey Peak Publishing, LLC

  Contents

  Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team

  1. Andrew

  2. Victoria

  3. Andrew

  4. Victoria

  5. Andrew

  6. Victoria

  7. Andrew

  8. Victoria

  9. Andrew

  10. Victoria

  11. Andrew

  12. Victoria

  13. Andrew

  14. Victoria

  15. Andrew

  16. Victoria

  17. Andrew

  Royal Mistake

  Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team

  Also by Renna Peak

  Also by Ember Casey

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Edition: March, 2017

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  Character Interviews

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  Andrew

  Victoria can’t have children.

  For a long moment, I’m not sure I’m fully comprehending her words. From the way she’s staring at me, I know I should be feeling something—shock, anguish, betrayal—but instead I just feel numb. Detached.

  I must have misheard her.

  But the longer I look at her, the more the truth starts to creep in. I see it in her eyes. Hear it in her short, shallow breaths. I know I heard her correctly—my mind repeats every word: I can’t have children, Andrew. I can’t get pregnant. I can’t give you an heir.

  Over and over and over again.

  The force of that truth finally hits me, and I feel like I’m drowning beneath a tidal wave I never even saw coming.

  Victoria can’t have children. She can’t give me an heir. I’ll never get to watch my child grow inside of her. Never hold our little son or daughter in my arms.

  When she said she had something important to tell me, I never thought it could be this. I’d prepared myself for some sort of sordid tale from her past. But this…

  I have no idea how to process this.

  She’s looking intently at me, waiting for me to say something, to respond. In her eyes I see so many emotions—uncertainty, fear, and a deep sadness—and I can only imagine she sees a similar mix of things in my own face. I don’t know what to think. What to say. What to feel.

  This can’t be right. This can’t be…

  I find myself rising. I don’t know where I’m going, what I’m planning to do, but I need some time to think. To understand.

  Victoria can’t have children.

  Victoria can’t have children.

  Victoria…can’t…

  I’m walking down the aisle of the train, ignoring the stares and exclamations of the passengers who recognize me as I pass. I continue to the end of the car, then on through the next one, all the way to the private compartments at the end of the train.

  Victoria can’t produce an heir.

  I feel dizzy. Ill. Like my entire life is crumbling around me. I finally took a risk, made a choice for my own happiness, and I’d convinced myself that it would be the best thing for Montovia, too. But the universe has snatched it away from me. Tainted the one good thing in my life.

  I close myself in a private compartment. Rage boils through me—rage at myself, at my father, at whatever cruel God did this to Victoria. To us.

  The moment the compartment door is shut behind me, I spin to face the large, padded seat along the compartment wall. My fist slams into the padded back of the seat as an animal cry tears out of my throat.

  I hit the seat again and again. I’m yelling, too, but the sounds coming out of my mouth don’t resemble words.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this—I made the hard choice. I was willing to risk everything for Victoria. We should have had a chance to make things work, to create a happy ending in all of this. But we were screwed from the start. There was never a chance for a happy ending, and she knew the whole time.

  She should have told me. She should have said something. I risked everything for her…

  But while the feeling of betrayal sits heavy in my gut, the part of my mind that can still form slightly rational thoughts says, When should she have told you? When you hired her to manage your PR? When you were asking her for advice on choosing your future wife? When your father was threatening her? When?

  One of my knuckles has split open, but I keep punching the seat. I can’t believe I allowed myself to believe that I might have everything I wanted. That I might be with Victoria and be a good king for Montovia. That I might be able to piece together some happiness, even when everything is falling apart around me.

  Suddenly, the door to the compartment opens behind me.

  “Your Highness?” comes the voice of the conductor. “Your Highness, is everything all right?”

  I can tell by the slight quaver in his voice that he’s more than a little alarmed by my behavior. Slowly, I uncurl my fists and turn to face him.

  “Yes,” I say. “Everything’s all right.” My voice sounds raw.

  “I heard you yelling…”

  “I’m frustrated, that’s all,” I say, trying—in vain—to relax my shoulders. “Not frustrated with the train,” I add quickly. “The service has been impeccable.”

  The man’s mustache twitches slightly, and I know he’s trying to decide how much to press the matter.

  “If there’s anything I can do for you, Your Highness—”

  “I am fine, I assure you.”

  “If there’s anyone I can contact, or—”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve simply had a trying day.” I force my lips up into a smile, but judging by the flicker of worry in his eyes, I imagine it must look more like a grimace. “I’m under a lot of stress at the moment, I’m afraid. Just simply working off a little steam.” I wave my hand to indicate the compartment around us. “Why do you think I booked half the train for myself?”

  That, at least, seems to convince him of my sincerity.

  “Very good, Your Highness,” he says with a bow of his head. “But if you should need anything at all—”

  “I will contact you immediately, of course. Thank you for being so attentive.”

  The man gives another bow before leaving me alone in the compartment again.

  The moment he’s gone, I feel as if all the energy has been sucked out of me. I sink onto the seat, utterly bereft. I prop my elbows on my knees and drop my face into my hands.

  What am I going to do? How am I going to fix this?

  That’s precisely the problem—I can’t fix this. I’ve made it through my life so far by being proactive. By attacking my problems head-on. I’m not afraid of action. In fact, my greatest fear has always been quite the opposite—ineffectiveness. Incompetence. Helplessness.

  I feel helpless now. Completely, utterly helpless.

  But I still love her. My feelings for Victoria haven’t changed, even though the circums
tances surrounding our potential future suddenly look very different. I still want her. Still need her. Still don’t know what I would do without her.

  And I just leaped up and ran away from her when she dropped this news on me. I left her there without saying a word.

  Fuck—I’m a heartless bastard.

  I jump up from my seat. I have to go back to her, have to explain to her that we’ll figure this out together somehow.

  I charge out of the compartment and back down the train. I’m sure I look like a madman to the other passengers, but I don’t care. I need to speak to Victoria.

  When I get to her seat, though, she’s no longer there.

  I glance around. Where the hell did she go? She couldn’t have run far—we’re on a moving train, after all. There are only so many places she might go.

  My eyes roam over the car. A number of passengers are staring at me, and though on another day I’d take the time to speak with them—as their future king should—today my mind is on other things.

  “The woman who was sitting here,” I say to those within earshot. “Where is she? Where did she go?”

  A couple of people shake their heads, but a woman with a small child on her lap juts her chin down the aisle behind me. “She went that way, Your Highness. Toward the dining car.”

  “Thank you,” I say over my shoulder as I hurry down the length of the car.

  The dining car is crowded. My gaze skims over the crowd, but once again, I don’t see her. I do, however, spot the elderly couple that was sitting across from Victoria in the other car. The woman notices me and raises a hand in greeting.

  I stride over to her.

  “Did you decide to join us, Your Highness?” she says with a big smile. “I saved a seat for you, see? Someone tried to sit here a few minutes ago but I told him I had to save it for you.”

  I regret that I can’t accept this woman’s generosity, but finding Victoria is the most important thing right now.

  “The young woman who was sitting across from you in the other car—did she come through here?” I ask. “I must find her.”

  “She ran past here a little while ago,” the woman says. She glances over at her husband. “How long ago would you say that was? Five minutes? Ten? Poor thing looked upset.” Her watery blue eyes turn back to me. “Did something happen?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I say, shame coursing through me. “I’m trying to find her.”

  “There’s not much in that direction,” the elderly man says. “This is the last passenger car. But she might have gone into the washroom.”

  The bathroom. Of course.

  “Thank you,” I tell them. I hope I have a chance to come back and speak with them again later, but Victoria comes first.

  I practically run down the rest of the dining car—which draws a few more surprised stares—but I don’t care. When I reach the washrooms, one of them is open. The other is occupied, and I rap lightly on the door.

  “Victoria?” I say.

  There’s no response.

  I frown. Maybe the older couple was wrong—maybe she isn’t in here. Maybe I’m disturbing some poor soul who’s simply trying to do his business in peace.

  But I have to be certain. I knock again.

  “Victoria, please,” I say. “If you’re in there, just let me speak with you.”

  This time, I hear movement on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t worry about me, Your Highness,” comes her muffled voice. “I’ll survive.”

  Now that I know she’s in there, I have no intention of leaving.

  “May I come in?” I ask her.

  “No.”

  “We need to talk, Victoria.”

  “Don’t worry about me. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

  My ear is pressed against the door, taking in her every word. When I glance up, I realize that nearly everyone in the dining car is staring at me, watching this little scene unfold. Only those in the nearest seats are close enough to hear anything, but that doesn’t matter—watching the crown prince talk to someone through a washroom door is probably fascinating whether or not they can actually understand what I’m saying.

  Still, I turn so that I’m facing away from the other passengers and press my other ear to the door. I can’t grant us any more privacy than that—unless I can convince her to open the door.

  “Please, Victoria,” I say softly. “Will you come with me to one of the private compartments so we can talk? Or at least let me come in there and speak with you?”

  For a long moment, nothing happens. And then, just when I’m starting to wonder if I should try the handle, she cracks the door. Her eyes look up at me through the narrow opening.

  “Really, Andrew—I mean it. Don’t feel like you need to say anything.” Her voice sounds calm, steady, but her eyes are slightly red. She’s been crying. “I knew this would be a deal-breaker for you. That’s why I told you. I should have said something before, but I…I guess I never realized things would go this far between us. I thought this was just a fling. That you’d be marrying someone else a month from now. I never thought…” She sucks in a breath. “I know how important it is for you to have an heir. I just never thought I’d be in a position where it might be my responsibility to give you one.”

  My fingers curl around the edge of the door, blocking her from closing it again. “May I come in?”

  She hesitates only the briefest of moments before nodding and opening the door a little more. I slip inside.

  The washroom is small—far too small for two people. But I don’t care. It gives me the perfect excuse to take her in my arms.

  “I shouldn’t have run off like that,” I tell her. “I was shocked, that’s all. I needed some time to think.” And to yell. And to throw a few punches.

  Her eyes fall away from mine. “I know it’s a lot to spring on you…but don’t worry. I already know this changes everything.”

  It does change a lot. It changes so much that I feel almost as if I’m falling through space, unable to find a foothold. But it doesn’t change everything.

  “It doesn’t change how I feel when I have you in my arms,” I murmur. “It doesn’t change the agony I experience when I can see you’re upset.” I raise a hand to her face, brushing my thumb against a tear track she forgot to wipe away. “Those things haven’t changed.”

  “I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “We might have been able to get past the fact that I’m a commoner, but this is completely different.”

  “We can get past this, too,” I say. Now that I have her in my arms again, I feel my hope returning. “We’ll find the best fertility doctors in the world. I don’t care what it takes or how much it costs—we’ll fix this. We’ll find a way—”

  “There is no way,” she says firmly, looking up at me again. “Absolutely zero chance I can carry a baby. Ever.”

  “Surely there must be some—”

  “No. There’s no chance.”

  That little bubble of hope I felt deflates.

  “I still love you,” I murmur, tilting her face up toward mine. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean you can be happy with me,” she counters as she stares up into my eyes. “Would you honestly be happy if you knew you could never have a biological child with me? That you’d never have your heir?”

  “I…I don’t know,” I tell her truthfully. “I honestly don’t know.” It wasn’t very long ago that I first allowed myself to entertain the thought of Victoria carrying my child, and just the thought filled me with an unspeakable sense of joy and hope. I feel as if true happiness has been torn right out of my grasp.

  Tears have filled her eyes again, and I can’t bear to see them. I pull her close to me, pull her face against my chest.

  “I don’t know,” I hear myself repeat to her. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t know how to fix this. “But I want to try.”

  I just don’t
know where to go from here.

  Victoria

  He repeats himself. “I don’t know.” He pulls me a little tighter to his chest each time he repeats the same phrase. “I don’t know.”

  And I don’t know what else to say to him. In no universe did I ever imagine that my inability to bear children would ever mean anything other than disappointment. In any other reality, being able to adopt would be enough.

  Andrew finally stops repeating himself and holds me in his arms. He hugs me in silence for a long time.

  I’m done crying about this. I promised myself when I left the palace this morning that I was done crying over Andrew at all. And I’m not sure what came over me back there—overwhelm, I suppose. A little bit of humiliation at being left so abruptly. And, of course, there is the certainty that no matter what I do, I will never be enough for the man holding me in his arms.

  Andrew kisses the top of my head. “Will you please come to one of the private compartments with me?”

  I nod against his chest.

  He steps back, placing his hands on my shoulders. He looks into my eyes. “There are a lot of people out there, Victoria. They will be watching us as we leave. Follow me—keep your eyes forward and don’t speak to anyone.”

  I lift a brow. “You realize that I could teach that class, right? The one about how to deal with the public? It’s the same thing I would tell you to do if we were dealing with a crowd of paparazzi.”

  He frowns. “This isn’t a joke, Victoria. I’m not even certain we’re still in Montovia. And even if we are, the rules governing the press don’t necessarily apply to the public. Someone may snap a photograph. Someone may—”

  I reach out and pat his shoulder, motioning behind him to the door. “I think I can handle myself, Your Highness.”

  Andrew nods, but his frown deepens. He turns and walks out of the bathroom and I follow closely behind him.

  And he’s right—everyone in the dining car is staring, first at him, then turning their attention to me. The silence that washes over the crowded area is almost frightening. People are gawking, their mouths hanging open.