by Alyssa Cole
“Maybe I was cursed, too,” she said, looking up at him as she nestled down against his erection. “Let’s find out.”
Johan dearly, dearly wanted to find out, but then his phone rang. People rarely called him, so when they did he always expected bad news.
He kissed her temple and reached for the phone.
“You’re up early,” Greta said when he answered.
“What’s wrong?” He didn’t like suspense.
“I was wondering why you locked the shared document so I couldn’t make any changes. I need to add more information about the Njaza land mine organization.”
The bad feeling that’d had Johan pacing in the middle of the night returned with a vengeance. “I haven’t accessed the doc in two days, and I certainly didn’t lock you out of it.”
“Are you sure?”
Nya sat up, looking at him with worry in her eyes.
“Positive. I’m going to go change my passwords and then you can go in and compare the current docs with our backups to see if anything has been changed.”
“Do you think someone hacked it? How?”
Johan had every possible password protection protocol. If someone had accessed the accounts it had to be a high-level hacker. He didn’t want to think about the other possibility.
He eased from the bed and grabbed his tablet. “We’ll discuss that later. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
“What’s going on?” Nya asked.
“Just . . . stuff. Work stuff. Referendum stuff. Sorry, I have to handle it immediately.”
“Can I do anything?” she asked.
He was going to say no, but if he did, that meant she would leave, and Johan wanted her to stay even if there were to be no further mirror adventures. “Want to make us some coffee?”
She quietly prepared them two cups from the small contraption on a side table, and he filled her in on what he’d discovered the previous night and what had happened that morning.
“Why would someone try this hard to hurt you?” she asked.
“I’m starting to understand just what some people will do for money. They want the royal family gone,” he said. Johan smiled at the irony. How many times had he wished for the same thing? But these people were messing with Lukas’s future. It was one thing if the citizens voted to get rid of the monarchy; it was another if someone was trying to tip the scales against them.
Nya ran a hand through his hair, the scratch of her nails calming his whirring thoughts. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll have to talk to Linus. I’ll see if he’s awake now.” As he looked up at her, he realized that both the referendum and his personal life were starting to get messier than anticipated. He’d imagined that he could handle both a large-scale social change and Nya with his usual distance, but he’d been wrong, and now one might endanger the other.
“If you don’t want to deal with . . . this anymore, I understand. I’m not quite sure what’s happening or what these people will do—I’m not sure if you’ll become a target, too. You set up your web security stuff the night before we left, right?”
“Yes, though I doubt anyone would want to hack my stuff—they wouldn’t find anything besides my video game back-ups if they did. And while I am concerned, if I go home it’s to a father starving himself to death to punish me, so not exactly an upgrade.”
He was glad she didn’t want to leave, so he stood up and kissed her, the only way he had of showing her that, because it wasn’t like he could just tell her.
“Lukas will go with you to the breakfast this morning, if that’s okay,” he murmured against her lips, planting a kiss every few words.
“Okay, I’ll go get ready,” she said, giving him a final kiss. When she walked through the door back to her room, Johan felt an inexplicable loneliness. She was literally a few meters away and that seemed much too far. What would he do when she left?
He really was pathetic. And he had accounts to secure. He could deal with his ridiculous determination to balance his heart on the point of a blade later.
Chapter 17
ONE TRUE PRINCE, HANJO STORY MODE
Nya: I was perfectly happy with my boring normal life before you got me involved in this mess!
Hanjo: Were you happy, though?
Nya: . . . No.
Hanjo: And what about now?
Nya: I’m happy when you kiss me, I suppose.
Hanjo: Well, then, I’ll keep kissing you. And I won’t stop.
It felt strange to be at an event without Johan. Oddly, Nya didn’t feel as nervous as she’d been while in Thesolo, even though someone was trying to influence the referendum and wasn’t afraid to play dirty.
In a way, once Johan had told her what was going on, she’d felt something click into place. Her grandparents had always instilled in her that Ingoka didn’t make mistakes—Nya had hated that expression. To her, it had backed up all the things her father told her, had made it clear that being kept safe in her gilded cage was the proper path of her life.
But now here she was in another small kingdom in the throes of change, dealing with another person or people who wanted to influence the future of a country through trickery and deception. And this time she wasn’t related to the possible villains. When the priestess had said fate had brought her and Johan together, Nya had hoped she was talking about love. But maybe it had been this. Maybe Nya could help.
Johan had showed her care and gentleness. He’d made her feel beautiful and strong. She wasn’t sure she could do anything at all with just a few days to go until the referendum, but she would pay attention. She would smile wide so people thought her harmless. She would do what she had always done once people forgot her presence—she would watch and listen. Maybe she would stop these people as she hadn’t stopped her father.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Lukas said from beside her. His hair was slicked back into its queue, a bright blue elastic band matching his tie, but his lips were bare. The only color on his face was the dark circles under his eyes. “I asked for Belgian waffles, which offended the chef, but Liechtienbourgish waffles just aren’t fluffy enough.”
Nya felt a little sad for the boy. He could have been out having breakfast with friends, or going to the mall, or whatever it was that teenagers did for fun. All of the things she’d longed to do instead of helping her father practice his speeches or escaping from her own life through films. But Lukas would be king, and his life was even more regimented than hers had been. And though she’d experienced some scrutiny from the press, his whole life had been spent hiding from the intensity of it.
“I’m sure the chef doesn’t mind,” she said. There was an awkward silence as they ate, both likely scrambling for something to talk about that wasn’t Johan.
“You’re graduating this year?” Nya asked.
“Yes. I have to study for the BAC, then I’ll go to a Grand École in Paris, even though I really wanted to go to California.” He shrugged. “C’est la leiben.”
“Maybe you can do that instead! California would be fun. I dreamed of visiting while I was in the US, but . . .” She trailed off. “You should talk to your father. He seems reasonable.”
“There’s no reasoning with tradition,” he said. “I love my father, but when he looks at me all he sees is his legacy. I think it’s the one thing that makes him happy, since mother died, knowing I will be king.”
When he glanced at her, there was an anguish in his eyes that almost made her drop her fork.
Oh.
“Lukas. It’s okay to disappoint people, you know. This is your life, and not your father’s. Not your brother’s either. I don’t think either of them would want you to be unhappy.”
“I don’t know if it’s possible to be a happy king,” he said, pushing bits of waffle around on his plate. “Honestly, this is the weirdest job ever. You’re born into it, and people have already decided who you should be and how you should act.”
Nya knew that feeling well, and she asked w
hat no one had ever asked her, after her father had told everyone she wanted to be a teacher, like her mother.
“What would you want to do with your life if the referendum decides to abolish the monarchy?”
“Maybe become a pilot,” he said. “I was also thinking of studying game development.”
“Do you like video games?” she asked excitedly.
“Does an ax cut wood?” he replied, and Nya figured that it was yet another Liechtienbourger turn of phrase.
“What are your favorites? Mine are Taken by Ragnoth the Vampire Lord and Byronic Rogues from Mars.”
Lukas grew more animated. “Yes! I also love Senpai High and Chicken, My Love.”
Nya giggled. “I haven’t played the chicken game yet. Is it actually good?”
“Yes! I’m playing it now, and there’s actually a really interesting plot about a chicken rebellion. I’m romancing the alpha hen, who takes no nonsense and pecks out the eyes of her enemies.” They compared games for the rest of the breakfast, talking about the best routes to follow in particular games and the sites they read to find them. Nya recommended Girls with Glasses, Portia’s sister’s site, but Lukas said he usually got his recommendations from friends in online forums.
“I imagine you haven’t played One True Prince,” she said, and watched as the joy of talking about games left his face.
“No. A bit too close to home,” he said with a grimace.
Yes, playing a game in which your brother was a character was probably not very fun. Especially when you were the actual crown prince and he wasn’t.
Oh. She wondered if that had some part in Lukas’s acting out. Johan had taken the spotlight to protect his brother, but maybe Lukas saw it differently. Living in your brother’s handsome playboy shadow didn’t seem like it would be very much fun.
“Maybe they’ll add you to the expansion pack. Prince Saluk,” she joked, hoping to cheer him, but received a look of horror instead.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, but then Lukas’s gaze shifted from her to up and over her shoulder, his face going ashen.
A hand came to rest on the back of her chair, and when she looked up a strange man was staring down at her. Glaring was a more accurate description for the look on the tall, thin man’s serious face. He was dressed in a suit and had been seated with a group of what looked like businessmen when they’d walked in, but now he was alone.
“Where’s the playboy prince? Too busy with one of his other women to do his royal duty?” the man asked, his gaze passing nastily over Nya’s body. Nya sat frozen with fear, as she had in that first moment when she’d awoken to find the reporter in her hospital room.
“Arschlocher,” she heard Lukas choke out. The man’s glare didn’t move from Nya.
“I don’t know what Jo-Jo has told you, but if you think you’re going to show up here and start living on our citizens’ tax money, you’re wrong. In a few days, the von Brausteins will be erased from history, and you’ll be sent back where you came from.”
Nya wanted to yell at the man, or to run away, but she just blinked back tears of anger and shame. The man shifted his glare to Lukas. “And you—”
His sentence was cut off by the fist smashing into his mouth. Johan’s fist.
The man turned and raised his hands, maybe to fight back, maybe to block another blow, but Johan tackled him to the ground as the restaurant broke into an uproar.
The sound of chairs screeching, customers exclaiming, and photographers rushing in with their cameras flashing filled the previously sedate restaurant as Johan punched Arschlocher again. Nya jumped from her seat, but the security guards were already pulling Johan back and restraining the man.
Johan’s handsome face was contorted by rage—he looked like he would kill the man, who had a split lip and a bruise forming on his cheekbone. He looked like he would kill him and not feel an ounce of remorse. Arschlocher’s eyes were wide with shock, his bravado gone, and he glanced at Nya and Lukas.
“Don’t even look at them,” Johan commanded as he adjusted the lines of his suit, and Arschlocher dropped his gaze to the ground as he was led away.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said to the photographers, a sudden pathetic tone in his voice, as if he hadn’t come up to Nya and said disgusting things that made her stomach turn. “I was going to engage in polite debate. Can the monarchy do as they please? Do they not have to follow laws?”
Johan stalked over to Nya and his brother, his intensely focused gaze flitting back and forth over them as if checking them for signs of harm. He was breathing heavy and his expression was murderous, but that wasn’t what caught Nya’s attention as she looked at him.
Fear.
There was fear in his eyes, a fear that even he, so skilled at hiding his emotions, couldn’t mask.
She stood and put a hand on his chest; his heart was beating so fast that it worried her. “We’re all right,” she said gently. “It’s okay. He didn’t hurt us, Phoko.”
Johan’s breathing began to slow and he placed his hand over hers.
“And you thought pink hair would have people talking?” Lukas asked from where he still sat at the table, looking up from under his blond lashes. He seemed an entirely different boy from the one who had laughed and joked with her over waffles, and from the one who had been so excited by a tube of lip gloss. “You just attacked the head of the opposition party.”
“I don’t care who he was,” Johan said. “He looked like he was going to hurt you.”
Lukas wiped his mouth and stood. “Well, thank goodness you saved the day. But since you are always thinking of appearances, you have to know that the referendum voters aren’t going to look kindly on this. Oh well.”
He left, flanked by two security guards.
“It’s okay, Phoko,” Nya said because she couldn’t say anything else. There was something between the brothers that they needed to work out themselves, and maybe something more than a misunderstanding.
Johan was still quiet.
“Are you hungry?” She reached toward the table with one hand and lifted a waffle, making it dance enticingly in front of his face.
Finally, the hardness left his face and he smiled. Shook his head.
“You’re really okay?” he asked.
“I’m not the one punching things. I’m guessing your hand isn’t feeling too hot right now.”
He sighed heavily, brushing his hair back from his face, twisting it around his finger as he did. “I’ve made a mess again.”
Well, Nya couldn’t deny that but she couldn’t exactly hold it against him. The man had frightened her. If he’d had a weapon other than gross assumption, things could have turned out much differently. “I think you should call Greta and cancel this morning’s events. Let’s go somewhere.”
“Where?”
“A place where none of this matters. There will be trouble whether you address it now or this evening, right?”
“Right.”
“So. Let’s go.”
Chapter 18
@OlafJungstrum Is this the face Liechtienbourg wants to present to the world? Brawling von Brausteins?
@oodlesofstreudel Come on, I mean. It was kind of hot, non? He was defending his people.
@Sneks Defending against what? Arschlocher said he was just trying to have a conversation and got punched out of nowhere. Shouldn’t civility be of prime importance?
@JoJoStanAccount Liechtienbourgers love talking about how they’re from warrior stock but look at this reaction. I don’t like violence, but remember that time some dude broke into the castle to hug the queen? Johan is probably traumatized.
@OlafJungstrum We’ll see what the citizens think of this at the polls, I guess.
I thought you would have a nicer car,” Nya said as his old Vauxhall crossed the bridge into the idyllic farming village of Schweinsteiger. Johan hadn’t traveled to the farther reaches of the kingdom in a few months, but during the drive he’d realized that his love of fairy tales had s
urely been influenced by the backdrop of his youth. In the summer, the forest would be lush and verdant, but now the trees and small stone houses were nestled in drifts of snow, resembling a frosted ice kingdom.
“Are you making fun of my car?” Johan asked, caressing the leather dash. “Don’t listen to her, Hansel.”
“No! Just, in the magazines they always show you driving BMWs and fancy things. This feels more like you, though.”
He glanced in the rearview, where two bodyguards followed in an SUV, though he didn’t think he’d need them. His reaction this morning had been a bit over-the-top, but when he’d walked into the restaurant and found the man hovering menacingly over Nya and Lukas, and seen her sitting frozen with fear? His only thought had been that two people he cared for more than he should might be snatched away from him, and he had to prevent that outcome.
“Are you an expert on me now?” he asked lightly.
“Yes. I’ve added it to my CV,” she said.
Johan was warmed and then cooled by dual realizations—that because he’d shared more with her than anyone, she likely was an expert on him, and that she was only half joking about her CV because there was life after this fake engagement for her. The referendum would pass, or her need to shock her father would, and then she would go.
Yes, she liked him, but Nya liked everyone, didn’t she?
He wouldn’t think about it. He lived by the impulse, and now he would die by the impulse, because thinking about a long-term relationship with a woman he’d only been close to for a short time was ridiculous.
“Where are we going again?” Nya asked, looking around in awe. “It’s so pretty here.”
“This area of Liechtienbourg is an antimonarchist stronghold,” Johan said. “We’re going to see if they hate the von Brausteins less than Arschlocher’s party. And to meet my grandmother.”
“What!” Nya snapped to attention in her seat.
She pulled down the sun visor in front of the passenger seat and checked her reflection in the mirror there, though she already looked lovely. She always looked lovely.