Rich Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  “If a princess commands it, how can I say no?” he teased with a sweetness to him I hoped he saved for the woman he would someday marry.

  Morgan was irritated, her acerbic exhales picking up speed enough to be grouped into the derisive snort category. “Duke Lancelot is of Province 5, dear. He hardly has a fortune to offer you,” she sniped quietly, though just loud enough for Lot to hear.

  I was shocked that Morgan would cut him down when he was offering himself so generously. Lot’s eyes hardened, but he said nothing in his defense. I straightened and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for your kind offer, your grace.” That was code for, “Peace out, dude. Run before my mom turns crazy axe lady on you.” As he dropped my hand, I whispered, “I know exactly how valuable you are, Lot. It’s a true honor to have an offer from someone as noble as you. Thank you.”

  Lot brushed his fingers to mine once more, and Morgan caught it. She noticed that I relaxed around Lot, and probably looked less like I might fling myself off the back end of this platform and run away.

  “No. Don’t even consider it. I’ll not align my kingdom with a land as plain as Province 5.” Morgan’s grumbled rule was firm when Lot moved off the platform and down into the crowd. His people cheered him on, and I noticed a few other provinces chanted his name as the clear frontrunner favorite. Morgan cringed, her fists clenching at her sides.

  Five more men I’d never met nor heard of gave expensive tokens and kissed the back of my hand. The crowd was getting more riled up by the minute, placing bets and cheering on their favorite picks. I could feel Bastien was near, though I still hadn’t looked in his direction to verify that the unbreakable stare of longing and frustration was radiating from him.

  The crowd went from excited to a wave of concern. It was Avalon-style celebrity gossip in action, and I was friggin’ Britney Spears, smack in the middle of it.

  The man strutting his way across the stage to me was none other than the man who’d slapped Lane across the face and cast out Draper from his perfect family. Duke Henri was easily in his mid-fifties, but his confidence was still in the full swagger of youth that came when one had too much power and money. Henri bent his head to me after exchanging a knowing look with Morgan. “Princess.”

  “Uncle Henri.” I laid on the familial term to remind him that what he was doing was sick, and that I was younger than one of his children.

  “I trust you understand what’s best for your kingdom, and that I’m the only one here who can secure the great legacy your parents built for Province 1.”

  I knew he despised Morgan, so to see them in cahoots over the proposal churned bile in my stomach like a taffy-pulling machine. Morgan had the power, and with me in his kingdom, she would be forced to share resources so that I didn’t live in a failing province, which would ultimately reflect poorly on her. I was a tool, and nothing more.

  Morgan inhaled like she was smelling the sweetest perfume. She lifted her voice and let it carry to the people, making a grand announcement. “People of Avalon, I think my daughter’s finally chosen a worthy suitor.”

  Lane’s voice was heard above the din, shouting out an angry, “No, Morgan!” Draper was next to her, standing from his throne, holding his stomach like he might be sick.

  My head whipped to her, frantic in my fear that I would be married off to such a mean man. A mixture of uproar and praise rose up, but above it all, I heard a heavy clang of gold hitting the bottom of Demi’s box. I nearly cried out in relief when my eyes fell on Madigan, freshly bathed and wearing soldier’s clothes, though this uniform didn’t match any of the provinces represented here. His pressed jacket was light green with four-leaf clovers on the shoulder, draped over his black military garb. His light brown hair was neatly cut, giving everyone a full glimpse of his permanent scowl. He was tall and muscular like a pro wrestler, and looked ready to pull limbs off the bodies of his enemies.

  “Madigan!” I shouted, throwing my princessly demeanor out the window, and running to greet him. That break from protocol stole everyone’s attention from Morgan’s grand pronouncement that Duke Henri was a worthy candidate. It gave me the floor before Morgan could choose a life of misery for me.

  Before I crashed into him in a desperate hug, Madigan fished his token out of the coffer and presented it to me – his gold wedding band from Meara that looked just about as beaten as he did. Though I was now a very rich girl, it was the most wonderful piece of jewelry to me in that moment.

  Mad got down on one knee, forgoing the formal kiss to the back of the hand, and going straight into public proposal mode. “Princess Rosalie, will ye have me as your husband?” Madigan was scarred all over his tall and broad, toned body. The slashes and beatings that had gotten him to where he was today only made him look more rugged. The tattoos crawling out of his shirt seemed to hiss at the naysayers, who were too stunned to voice an opinion. The entire crowd went from shouting their exuberance, to completely silent with shock. Like, silent. Hundreds of thousands of people, and not a peep. Madigan was the motorcycle tough guy equivalent to Avalon, when I was surrounded by Ken dolls (and one very old uncle).

  Madigan was acting like this marriage was what he wanted, but no grand thespian feats were necessary for me. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than for someone to get me out of this sinkhole I felt utterly stuck in. I decided to ignore protocol and give the people a good show. Instead of a demure nod, I knelt down and threw my arms around Madigan’s midsection, holding him so tight, his eyes bugged. My thighs were pressed to his, my face gazing up at him with a crazed expression I hoped looked grateful. “Yes, Madigan! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  The crowd went bonkers, screaming and hollering their shock. Not only had Duke Henri been rejected after what seemed like a sure thing, but I’d gone and taken up with an Untouchable – the bad boys of Faîte. Add the dramatic embrace on top of it, and it was a day for the books, no doubt making it into all the bar gossip and bedtime tales for years to come.

  I was afraid to let go of Madigan, who was still stunned at the very public display of my affection. The people only cheered louder when his rigid body exhaled, and his arm snaked around my waist, holding me to him. “There, there, Rosie. You’ve no need to fret. I told ye I would do right by Bastien.”

  I only clung tighter to his neck. “Don’t let go yet. Don’t leave me up here by myself. She almost married me off to my uncle, Mad! If you’re in plain sight, she won’t try anything. Please, Mad. Please stay with me.”

  Madigan’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “Aye, Rosie. I’ll stay with ye. Bastien even called the rest of the Brotherhood here, in case Morgan had a problem with me. They’re all ready to offer ye their hand, so if Morgan objects, take up with one of the lads Bastien sends ye. Look for the neck tattoo, and you’re safe.” He took one hand off of me and dipped into his pocket, tugging out a gold chain he threaded his ring through and fastened around my neck. “Thought my ring might be too big to wear around your wee finger.” He waited a few beats while the people worked themselves into a frenzy, each touch magnified by the scandal of celebrity. No doubt it would be rumored I grabbed his crotch by the end of it. He awkwardly patted my back, which only encouraged the chaos that raged below us. “Ye can let go now, lass.”

  My grip around his waist tightened like a boa constrictor. “Just ten more seconds. I’m not ready yet.”

  A low chuckle echoed from Madigan’s chest. “Aye, take as long as ye need. It’s alright, Rosie. Morgan won’t get ye now.”

  I nodded, my eyes accidentally locking in on the ones I could feel in a crowd of hundreds of thousands. Bastien’s gaze was fierce, and I noticed two similarly scarred men with neck tattoos had their hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. He pressed his hand to his heart and mouthed, I love you.

  Every move I made was watched, so the most I could give him was a subtle nod of deep gratitude, putting our feud aside for the moment. I owed Bastien and Madigan my sanity, thanks to the high premium they put on my safety. Even
after I’d turned Bastien away, he was still there, watching out for me and making sure nothing happened that wasn’t fixable by his capable hands.

  “That’s enough!” Morgan hissed through gritted teeth.

  I squeezed Madigan once more before he rose, taking me with him. I heard so many things, but one man’s voice shouted Madigan’s name over and over, so much that I tore my gaze away from my fiancé to investigate.

  A man with bulk to match Bastien’s, and tattoos crawling all over his arms and neck, called out in desperation to Madigan. “Mad! Mad!” He had short, honey-colored hair, a square jaw, both arms in the air, and a neck tattoo declaring his Untouchable status. His wild desire to get closer to Madigan tugged at my heart.

  Madigan’s inhale was sharp, and his eyes softened in that brotherly way when he recognized the man waving his arms like a lunatic. He jerked his head at Bastien, who flagged down the straggler and brought the man into the group of ruffians.

  I knew Madigan wanted to go to the guy, but chicken that I was, I couldn’t risk my safety net disappearing on me. I reached out and clung tight to his hand, earning a collective “aw” that the princess couldn’t be parted from her soon-to-be prince.

  “The entire Brotherhood’s here now, and they’ll be wanting to meet up after this is over,” he informed me. “The lads will want a word with us.”

  “Okay. Please don’t leave me, though. I’ll come with you.”

  Madigan tore his gaze away from his buddy and looked down at me, taking in my fear I didn’t bother concealing. “Aye. If you’re tha afraid, I won’t leave ye. I’ve not known ye to be one to throw shite over nothing.”

  I clung to his hand and all but dragged him over to the center of the stage. I didn’t address Morgan, but spoke to the people, who’d already given me their wildly shouted approval. “I’ve chosen my husband. Join me in welcoming Madigan…” It dawned on me that I didn’t even know his last name. “Please welcome Madigan the Untouchable to Province 1.”

  The people roared anew, throwing hats and handkerchiefs up into the air. I heard none of it. I felt none of it. The only thing I could feel was Morgan’s fiery gaze, burning into my back.

  19

  My Guest of Honor

  To her credit, Morgan’s face never cracked. Her serene expression remained in place even after I defied her wishes that I marry Duke Henri. Rigby announced to the crowd that it was time for my coronation, but no one really heard him. The celebration seemed never-ending. It was only when shrieks of terror and cries of oh-holy-crap-get-me-out-of-here started splintering through the merriment that the partiers quieted.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea, falling back and making room for a figure I couldn’t quite make out. Madigan stiffened and brought me to stand behind him, his chest puffing out territorially. I now belonged to the Untouchables, and it showed. The rest of the Brotherhood followed suit, forming a line in front of the guards to add an extra layer of protection between me and whatever foe was stalking our way.

  I blinked a few more times, the sun making the figure difficult to pick out at first. When my vision became clear, a much-needed smile leapt onto my face. “Kerdik!”

  Madigan nodded. “Go on. It’s dangerous, but I can’t wait to see the look on your mammy’s face when she sees ye talking with Master Kerdik.”

  I let go of Madigan’s hand, whatever I’d salvaged of my princessly demeanor, and my nerves, and ran down the steps of the platform.

  “Stop her!” Morgan ordered her guards, horrified. I wasn’t sure if she was more scandalized by my display, or if she was scared of me being so near her own personal monster. When the guards moved to wall me off from my goal, I spun to frown up at Morgan. It was then I could see clearly that she was scared for me, and didn’t want me near someone who had let such grief and war come to Avalon. It was refreshing, however frustrated I was at not being allowed to say hi to my friend, to see that Morgan had a glimmer of motherhood in her. In her own way, she cared about me (or her legacy, at least).

  “It’s really fine,” I assured her. “That’s just Kerdik. He’s my friend.”

  Kerdik was unperturbed, but I knew the gasps directed at his skin cut him in the vulnerable spots he didn’t like to leave open for public perusal. His green skin clashed with his sky-blue, perfectly combed hair, making him look handsome and totally unique. He was a sweetheart.

  Kerdik waved his hand at the guards, who scattered as he neared with terror etched in their faces. Only the Brotherhood didn’t back down, though I could tell they wanted to. He paused when he reached Bastien, who stepped forward to take the brunt of whatever Kerdik had for them.

  I ran around the members of the Brotherhood I’d not met, and grinned like a giddy goofball when I crashed into Kerdik with a rough hug befitting a soccer game win, and not a royal affair. In my heart, I was a Commoner, and not even a corset could change that. “I missed you! What are you doing here?”

  Kerdik let out a surprised “oof!” when I crashed into him, his smile stretching wide across his chartreuse face. “Miss your coronation? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “You came for me?” I was touched, since I didn’t have all that many friends. Madigan and Bastien stood on either side of me, unsure what to do, but unwilling to be parted from me. My birds squawked for me to run from Kerdik, but I shot them a frown to scold them for being rude to my friend.

  “Of course, Fleur. You look lovely, as usual.”

  “Thank you.” Color heated my cheeks at being doted on by someone so stunning. “I know you don’t like coming around here. You really came out of hiding for me?”

  His eyes narrowed at me in mild scolding, but Madigan and Bastien both backed away, as if Kerdik might melt me with his laser beam eyes or something. “I wasn’t in hiding. I don’t need to hide from insects.”

  I rolled my eyes and released him, chucking him on the shoulder. “You know what I mean. I know you don’t like being around people all that much, and this is like, the most people ever. That you came here just so I’d have a friendly face? Thanks, K. I really needed it today.”

  That broad smile came back, but the crowd only grew more afraid of him, smooshing into each other and giving us as wide a berth as possible. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” He picked up my hand and examined his ring on my finger. “You haven’t taken this off, have you?”

  “Of course not. It’s so pretty. Why would I?”

  “Good girl.” His eyes grew intense again, and several women nearby actually burst into tears. “You never called for me.”

  I lowered my voice, though I’m not sure what good that did. We were the focus of every eye and ear in the entire nation. Everyone seemed tense, stretched tight like a guitar string and ready to snap into painful oblivion. “I know you don’t like Morgan, and I’ve been staying at her place. It’s not been the best, K. I didn’t want to make you come to a place I didn’t even want to be. I haven’t been allowed out of my bedroom all that often, so I couldn’t exactly invite you over.” My face lit up all over again when I remembered what waited in my bedroom. “I made you something, though.”

  He took my hand and looped it through his arm, turning me to lead me like a gentleman back to the stage. “You did, eh? Tell me all about my surprise.” He wore the same chocolate-colored pressed slacks, wrinkle-free white dress shirt, and charcoal vest.

  When I turned, I came face to face with Lane and Draper, who’d left their platform to rush to back me up, should I need it. Morgan was still standing, white-faced and afraid on her stage, clinging to Rigby. I saw very clearly which one was my mother. Lane didn’t see her own fear when she thought I was in trouble; she only saw me. I dropped Kerdik’s arm and wrapped Lane in the hug I’d needed to survive. “I missed you, Mom.”

  Lane softened in my embrace. “Oh, kid. You have no idea. Are you alright?” Her voice was taut with fear.

  “That’s a question for another time.” I kissed her cheek and squeezed her once more before releas
ing her. “I think we might have an audience.”

  Lane snorted, but held tight to my hand, facing Kerdik with the air of a little girl staring down a raging bull. What can I say? Lane’s always been heroic. “Master Kerdik. I see you’ve met my Rosie.”

  Kerdik nodded. “I have, and I mean her no harm. Nor you, if you go back to your throne and let me help her. You raised her quite well. I wouldn’t dream of undoing a masterpiece like your daughter. Run along, now. Always good to see you, Little Lane.”

  Lane bowed her head, but only moved aside when I gave her the “it’s cool” nod. Kerdik tucked my arm in the crook of his elbow once more, not even bothering to address Draper or Madigan, who fell in line behind us like soldiers. He glanced back at Bastien appraisingly as we strolled slowly toward the stage. “I see you haven’t given him your lueur. And marrying a man from the Brotherhood? Just what sort of tricks are you up to, darling?”

  “Tricks are for kids,” I quoted a cereal from my childhood, “and I haven’t had time to be a kid in a while. I’ll tell you everything when we’re not being watched by a bajillion people. After you’ve been blown away by your surprise, that is.”

  “As you wish it, sweet Fleur.” He reached his free hand over and gave my fingers an affectionate squeeze. Each little tease of fondness felt like a gift we both needed, isolated as we were. “I brought you a little present, as well.”

  I gazed up at him, a bashful smirk playing on my lips. “You already got me a present. You gave me the most beautiful ring in the world, and your hat. Give a girl a second to catch up to you. My present for you is not nearly as impressive, but I think you’ll like it.”