by Caroline Lee
As they stepped into her tiny room, he finally spoke. “You’ve got more books than I do.”
“Well, you’re here on vacation, aren’t you? I’m here to work.”
He crossed to one of the piles and picked up the top few. “Scandinavian legends. North Sea fishing lanes. Hey, this one’s in Norwegian. You read Norwegian?”
She was headed for the bathroom. “Not well,” she called over her shoulder.
“I’ve read this one. Magdeloni’s Dissertation. I thought it was boring.”
Popping her head out, she smiled at him. “Me too. Feel free to borrow any!” Then she shut the door so she could get ready.
She was brushing her hair when she heard him on the other side of the door. “Nova?”
“Yeah?”
“I— I told you I had something I needed to say, right?”
What could be so important he was talking to her through the bathroom door? “Yeah?”
A noise like he was exhaling. Then, “I know you thought I was lying to you when I didn’t tell you I was a prince, right?”
It took a second to work through that question. “Are you lying to me about anything else?” she asked with a smile, reaching for a hair band to put her blonde hair up.
The silence on the other side of the door stretched, and in the mirror, her reflection’s eyes widened.
Are you lying about anything else?
Instead of answering, Enzio finally asked, “When I first met you, I asked for a kiss, remember?”
How could she forget? Slowly, Nova lowered her arms, the hair band dangling useless from her fingers. Her pulse was pounding heavy in her ears, and she realized she was holding her breath.
“Yes,” she said in a low voice, dreading whatever was about to come.
When he spoke, Enzio’s voice was close to the door, as if he’d dropped his forehead against the wood. “Nova, I— Nova, I would never hurt you. Now that I know you, I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right?”
Are you lying about anything else?
Without moving from her spot in front of the mirror, Nova reached out and flattened her palm against the door, right where she could hear his voice. He was on the other side, she knew it. She could feel him, feel his warmth.
She could almost taste her sense of dread now.
“What did you do, Enzio?” she whispered.
He must have heard her. But it still took a full minute for him to reply. A full minute in which Nova’s breaths came in short gasps. A full minute in which she prayed she was wrong.
“I took a wager, Nova. I wagered I could get a kiss from you by Christmas. I’d only seen you then—in the courtyard—and I was just blown away by your—your light. I wanted to know you, to meet you, to make you mine, so I accepted the wager.”
His words crashed over her in an explosion of regret, and when the debris had cleared, Nova was staring into her own eyes, calm and clear and empty. Everything was empty.
“Who?” she asked.
“Naut.”
Naut. Of course it was Naut. She’d rebuffed him a few times, and so he made her a stake in a bet?
On the other side of the door, Enzio took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, but she had no trouble hearing him in her own empty world. Empty of even air. She’d forgotten how to breath.
“Nova, I didn’t lie to you. And I stopped asking for kisses, remember?”
Yes, she did remember. She remembered he stopped asking for kisses right around the time she wanted to start asking for kisses. Why? Had he grown tired of her? Didn’t want to kiss her anymore? Didn’t want to win his bet?
“Nova?” His voice was close to the door again. Was he pressed against it, pressed against her hand, looking for her? “Say something.”
He was a prince. A prince who’d spent his life charming women, just like Wayne. How stupid could she be, to think Enzio would be any different than Wayne? He’d seen her just as a tally, a way to keep score. He’d accepted a bet to kiss her, for God’s sake! All the special moments they’d shared in the last weeks, the memories they’d made…was all because of a wager.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said, knowing her voice was as empty as her heart. As empty as her life.
“You’re—what? What for?”
“I’m sorry you lost your bet.”
A sudden bang had her jumping, dropping her arm from the door, jerking her attention away from the hollow-eyed woman in the mirror. Had he punched the door?
“Nova, this—all this between us—wasn’t about the wager, you have to know that.”
Did she?
Did she know that? Or was he just like Wayne? Like Naut? Just like every other charming flirt she’d turned down over the years?
Staring at the door now, knowing he was just on the other side, remembering the feel of his arms around her and the planned Christmas-cookie decorating, she felt again. All at once, the emptiness fled, replaced by a sorrow so bone-deep, she thought she might choke on it. Through the tears—when had she started crying?—she saw her reflection sink to the floor.
How could she be so stupid? Everything she’d been afraid of happening had happened. She was nothing more to him than a stake in a wager.
“I think you should go,” she whispered.
“What?” His voice was coming from right on the other side of the door. Was he pressed up against it again?
She swallowed down her sobs. “I said I think it would be best if you left, Your Highness.”
“Nova—“
Who knows what he would’ve said. All she knew was that he was pushing her. She’d asked him to leave, she was barely holding on to her tears, and he was still trying to talk to her?
Her self-control snapped. “I said go!” she screamed at the door. “Go back to Naut and your stupid charming life, and leave me be! That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Charming women and leaving them? That’s what you’re good at!”
She was sobbing, but couldn’t seem to make the horrible words stop. Instead she choked on her own anger and humiliation, wanting only to lash out at him in pain.
But she shouldn’t have said that.
The silence on the other side of the door stretched, and she imagined she could hear his pain. Or would her words not matter to him? If she truly was just a notch on his belt, then her low opinion wouldn’t matter, would it? It wouldn’t matter that the one person in his life who’d told him he was smart, successful, and useful had just said something so hurtful.
She didn’t bother to stifle her sobs then, and leaned her head back against the lip of the tub.
Dear God, she hadn’t meant to hurt him, but couldn’t make herself apologize.
Finally—how long had they sat there?—there was movement on the other side of the door. He was leaving. He was walking out of her life. Her words hadn’t meant anything to him.
“Enzio—” she choked out, not sure if she was going to ask him to stay, beg his forgiveness, or allow him to beg hers. She just couldn’t stand the thought of him going away angry at her.
But he cut her off. “Goodbye, Nova,” he said softly.
After a moment, she heard her apartment door close behind him, as he walked out of her life. The tears came in earnest again, as she curled up on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.
She hadn’t told him the truth, told him she loved him. Just like with Wayne, she’d managed to save herself the embarrassment of having laid her heart bare, just to have it stomped on.
Thank God for small favors.
CHAPTER NINE
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!
The words had been running through Enzio’s head all night. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure what he was berating himself for.
Was he stupid for telling Nova about the wager, and ruining whatever they had between them? No, no, he couldn’t regret that. Viggo was right; she had to know the truth, and it had to come from him.
Was he stupid for taking the wager in the first
place? Well yes, obviously, but he had no way of knowing then that a request for a kiss would result in him falling in love.
Was he stupid for not telling her right away? Yes. Yes, that was it. He should’ve been upfront with her, telling her about the wager from the beginning.
Of course, if he’d done that she would’ve never agreed to spend any time with him, much less date him. As it was, he’d had to string her along with the story of the Star of Aegiria, just to keep seeing her.
And that’s when Enzio would groan and go pour himself another brandy.
His mind had been going around and around with the possibilities and the what-ifs and the anger at not having the guts to stay there in her room and explain, make her listen to his explanations.
But it was her room, and she’d asked him to leave. In his old life, in the person he’d been before he’d met Nova, Enzio had prided himself on his honorable actions. He might be a player, but he never went farther than a lady wanted. And if she asked him to leave her room, he darn well left her room!
That’s who he’d been. Who was he now?
Staring down into the untouched brandy, Enzio admitted the truth: He didn’t know. Nova had made him a better man, more confident in his abilities. She hadn’t set out to do that; it had just happened when he saw that she valued him. And she did value him—or at least, she had before tonight’s confession—but not in the same way he valued her.
He loved her, and the only way he’d been able to convince her to hang out was by dangling the legend in front of her.
Enzio groaned and placed the drink back down. He was hopeless. Who would’ve thought it? Prince Charming of Velarno, reduced to pining over a woman who didn’t love him in return?
In fact, now she probably hated him, since he’d basically just confirmed her worst fears. Knowing the way she’d been hurt by her ex-boyfriend, Enzio assumed she now thought the worst of him too. And he knew that’s why she’d lashed out at him, said he was useless.
Or maybe he was useless in her eyes now.
But he hadn’t lied to her, not the way Wayne did. Wayne had been cheating on her, but Enzio hadn’t even thought of another woman since meeting Nova.
No, what you did was worse.
He sighed and flopped back against the couch. It was true. He’d lied to her. He’d lied to her, not about other women, as Wayne had done, but a lie nonetheless. The wager wasn’t even the worst part; he’d lied about not knowing the full legend of the Star of Aegiria, to keep her interested in him.
What a loser.
Running his hand through his hair, he wondered if there was any way to fix this. He’d left her room, he hadn’t said his piece, but could he? Enzio glanced at the clock and saw it was already midnight. The salmon dinner he’d ordered from the kitchens sat untouched, the popcorn un-popped. He’d never bothered to turn on the Hallmark movie, couldn’t stand the thought of watching it alone, and the cookies…
He reached for one of the plain Christmas cookies, saddened by the knowledge they’d never be decorated now. Still, they’d taste almost as good, wouldn’t they?
The taste of butter and sugar exploded on his tongue, but Enzio knew they would’ve tasted a hundred times better if he’d shared them with Nova. He’d planned the evening so he could tell her about the Star, tell her how he felt about her, but now? Now he was sitting here, alone in the dark, eating undecorated Christmas cookies.
Pitiful.
Struck by a sudden inspiration, he scrambled for a pen and paper. He’d sent her notes over the last weeks, arranging times and places to meet. But now…?
It was almost one in the morning—Christmas Eve!—by the time he’d finished his letter, and the cookies were gone.
I ate Christmas cookies for dinner. But he couldn’t feel guilty. No, he’d used up all his feelings writing the darn letter, and now he was…drained. He read it over one last time.
My dearest Nova,
I am sorry.
I am sorry I didn’t tell you about the wager right away; I should have. You have to know that being with you means more to me than I can imagine, and I would never hurt you.
From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you. But from the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to know you. You’re a fascinating, thrilling woman, and being with you has made me a better man.
However, I thought there was nothing I could offer you, until you showed interest in the Star of Aegiria, a legend I’m familiar with. It’s been one of my favorites since I read about it in one of my nonna’s manuscripts, and I didn’t have to look up anything. But I knew if I told you everything, you would have no more reason to see me. By sharing a bit of the legend each time we saw one another, I was assured you had a reason to keep seeing me.
So you see, If you’re going to hate me for lying to you, that should be your reason. I knew the complete story of the Star, and I still haven’t shared it all with you. I know that makes me even a bigger jerk, to mention that in an apology letter, because it seems like I’m still trying to manipulate you, and I’m sorry. My only excuse is that it’s after midnight, I’m eating plain Christmas cookies for dinner, and I’m missing the woman who has become such an important part of my life.
Yours,
Enzio
There. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Enzio pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing the words were only dancing in front of his eyes because of exhaustion.
He folded the letter into a envelope of palace stationary, then slipped his socks and shoes back on. This late at night—or early in the morning?—the only people in the halls of the palace were the security guards. He nodded to a few of them making their rounds, as he hurried through the halls and up the staircases to her room.
Standing outside her room, Enzio listened hard, half-hoping he’d hear her inside. But there was no sound—she must’ve fallen asleep ages ago. Stooping, he slid the envelope under her door, and immediately wished he could pull it back. Immediately thought of a million other things he wanted to say to her, should’ve said, shouldn’t have said.
Immediately wanted to tell her he loved her, even if she thought he was useless.
He hesitated there for another moment, before finally giving in to exhaustion and turning back towards his own guest room. She had the letter now, and hopefully would read it and understand all he was trying to say.
Could use a little Christmas miracle here, Lord.
Enzio slept poorly, tossing and turning and kicking himself for being an idiot. In the morning, he was preparing his tea when there was a knock on the door. He almost burned himself, he lunged for the door so fast. It could be Nova!
It wasn’t.
When Enzio wrenched open the door, the footman—or whatever they were called here in Aegiria—actually took a step back in shock, but he rallied well, schooled his expression, and held up an envelope.
“A letter, Your Highness.”
His hands only shook a little as Enzio reached out to take it from the man, who bowed slightly and backed away. Enzio simply stood there in the open door in his robe, staring down at the unadorned palace stationary in his hands. They’d sent enough notes back and forth that he knew this one was missing the distinctive “E” she’d written on the others. No, this one was plain.
His heart began to pound.
Stepping back inside his room and shutting the door, Enzio forced himself to breathe normally. This letter could contain anything. He opened it.
Your Highness,
I don’t “have to know” anything. I learn by taking in information and processing it. And the information I’ve taken in and processed has told me that you are very capable of hurting me.
An apology usually doesn’t contain an admission of further lies.
—Dr. Willetts
As his heart sank, the paper fluttered from his hands, and Enzio’s eyes landed on the Christmas tree. Their Christmas tree. The one they’d decorated together. The one he’d thought might be the first of many.
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The one with the Star of Aegiria at the top.
The Star…
Enzio might have one last chance. The legend of the Star of Aegiria, of Magnus and Ljós’s romance, was a powerful one. Surely Nova wouldn’t be able to resist it?
Desperate, he lunged for the crate beside his bed. Carefully, he pulled on archival gloves and tucked the ancient manuscript back in its nest of packing material.
This was one gift she couldn’t ignore, he hoped.
A note was needed. It took him two hours—two hours of pacing and mumbling to himself and drinking tea—and three pads of paper, before he realized he was just putting his foot in his mouth. Literally everything he’d written had sounded too—too—too horrible.
He hadn’t minded sounding desperate, because he was desperate. But he didn’t want her to feel worse, or guilty…or worse, as if he was trying to make her feel guilty.
Stopping short in the middle of his suite, Enzio ran his hand through his hair in frustration. That last thought hadn’t even made sense!
I need more sleep.
But it’d be impossible now. Not when he was trying to save things with Nova.
In the end, he used one of his last pieces of paper to write something short and simple.
My Nova,
Without you, the light has gone out of my world. I’m truly sorry, and I hope this might make it up to you somehow. This is the original version of the legend.
Yours,
Enzio
This is stupid.
Still, it was the only thing he could think of. With a sigh, he rang for a footman. He also went ahead and placed an order for lunch, because he couldn’t stand the thought of wandering down to the cafeteria. Heck, as it was, he was already too cowardly to take her the book himself.
Which probably explained why he looked like an eccentric opium addict by the time the footman—a different one than the one this morning—showed up at his door. Enzio was still in his robe, his hair sticking out in all directions, his expression haggard, his jaw unshaven. Still, he tried for a smile.