Royal Mistake: The Complete Series

by Ember Casey

  I sigh and rub my forehead. My head hasn’t stopped aching since the plane crash—I hope it’s exhaustion and hunger, nothing worse.

  “What happened, Andrew?”

  I jump. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten Victoria was here with me. I’m gripping her hand so tightly I’m surprised she hasn’t said anything. I loosen my hold.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I tell her again. “In Montovia, nowhere else.”

  She shakes her head, clearly not understanding why I’m being so stubborn about this. But in spite of my growing respect for her, I still don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone.

  “So my brother and Elle are expecting,” I say, trying to turn the conversation away from me and my mistake.

  “I didn’t realize they hadn’t said anything to you yet,” she says.

  “Honestly, they might have. I’ve just been preoccupied.” I rub my head again. “On the other hand…no, I would have heard something. My father would have been beside himself. I would have never heard the end of it.”

  “Your mother knows,” Victoria says. “Elle told me she figured it out on her own.”

  “My mother would,” I say. “And I can’t say I’m surprised they’re keeping it quiet for now. Leopold has hardly recovered from the last scandal.” God, my brother can’t go two weeks without causing trouble. I pray William and Nicholas don’t take after him, though I think my hopes might be in vain. It’s already too late for Sophia, I suspect. “Who knows—perhaps this is exactly what Leopold needs to turn him around. Maybe he’ll finally learn to take some responsibility for his life.”

  “From what Elle says, I think this might be exactly the thing,” Victoria says. “I know things have been a little crazy with them, but they really do love each other. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I have to admit—my brother’s affection for Elle seems genuine, and far more intense than anything I’ve ever seen in him before.

  “The first royal baby,” I say, shaking my head. Even though we believed for a short while that Leopold was the father of Lady Karina’s baby, my brother made it clear he and the lady had no intention of marrying. But Elle and Leopold are engaged—and, I suspect, planning to tie the knot before the baby arrives—which means their child will officially bear my family’s name.

  Victoria is watching me. “Did you think you would be the first to have a kid?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it,” I admit. “But yes—I suppose I assumed I’d be the first.” I release her hand. “Of course, it’s different in my case. I will be king, and my child will be the next heir. I have a duty to marry in the best interest of Montovia.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Like an arranged marriage?”

  “Not exactly,” I say. “But my marriage will inevitably have political implications. Whoever I marry will be queen of Montovia someday. That’s not something to take lightly. The choice is mine to make, but I can’t marry just anyone, no matter how I might feel about her.”

  “What do you mean by ‘just anyone’?” Victoria asks.

  “I mean I have to consider that this woman will be helping me rule a country one day. She needs to be someone the country will love and accept and someone the world will respect. She can’t be some woman I found on the street.”

  Victoria’s eyebrow goes up. “Is that a roundabout way of saying she can’t be a commoner?”

  “No,” I say. “But certainly a woman of status—or at least one who has experience wielding political power—might be better suited to the sort of life she would be leading as my wife.”

  “Wow,” Victoria says, leaning back against the wall. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but that still sounds pretty backward to me. And like it sucks for you.”

  “It’s my duty to think about my country above all else,” I say, frowning. “You might see it as unfortunate, but I see it as an honor. It was what I was born to do, and given the choice, I would make no other.”

  “That sounds like a miserable recipe for a marriage, though.”

  “That’s another reason why it would be preferable to marry a woman who already understood the responsibilities expected of her. Any woman I marry would gain plenty of advantages from the arrangement, I assure you. And just because our match would be partially dictated by politics doesn’t mean we couldn’t be happy or have a genuine affection for each other. I wouldn’t marry someone if I thought the arrangement would make either of us miserable.”

  “Well, you’re a stronger person than I am, because I couldn’t do it,” Victoria says. “Tell me—what exactly would your wife’s responsibilities entail?”

  “She would be a representative of Montovia, the way all members of my family are. There’d be social and political functions for her to attend, of course, as well as other similar duties. That will all expand when she becomes queen.”

  “Elle doesn’t have any political experience or noble blood,” she points out. “But she’s marrying into your family.”

  “Elle won’t be queen. And her eldest child won’t be the heir.”

  Victoria’s frown deepens. “What if your wife doesn’t want kids?”

  “That isn’t up for negotiation,” I say. “I wouldn’t force it on her, of course—I just wouldn’t marry a woman who didn’t want children. It’s the duty of me and my wife to produce heirs and continue the family line.”

  “What about your siblings?”

  “What about them?”

  “They could continue the family line.”

  “Traditionally, that’s not how it works.” I sigh. “I don’t expect you to understand this, Victoria, but trust me, I do not make any of these choices lightly. You might call my country’s traditions ‘backward,’ but I might say the same of certain customs here in America. I’ve known what was expected of me since birth, and I’ve never wanted anything else. I love Montovia, and I will serve it until the day I die. The opinion of others matters little to me.”

  “If they don’t matter, then why do you need my help?”

  I rub the side of my face. “They don’t matter insofar as they affect my commitment to my responsibilities. But if the reputation of Montovia is at risk, then I will do what I must to protect it.”

  She doesn’t seem to have a response to that. We fall into silence.

  Finally, I say, “We should try to sleep.”

  She nods. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, trying to force my body to relax. I don’t expect to get much rest tonight—especially now that Victoria is right beside me—but I must try.

  Victoria shifts beside me, trying to find a comfortable position. After some time, she falls still, and then a few minutes later, her breaths become slow and steady.

  I open my eyes, looking down at her. The moonlight falls across her face, making her look younger. Almost innocent. A far cry from the stubborn woman who’s spent much of the past two days arguing with me.

  I meant what I said to her—I don’t expect her to understand my commitment to my duty. But for some reason, deep down, I wish she would. This is my life. The driving force behind everything I do. Every choice I make comes back to my country.

  Carefully, I reach down and place my fingers lightly on Victoria’s dark hair. The moment I touch her, she stirs, and I freeze—but her eyes don’t open. A moment later, her breathing becomes slow and regular again.

  Even dirty, her hair is so soft beneath my fingers. I don’t let my touch linger, though—I’ve already promised myself I’d stop thinking about touching her, and I certainly don’t expect her to understand if she wakes and finds me caressing her, even in innocence.

  I pull my fingers away and lace my hands together, hoping to stifle any future urges to reach over to her.

  It’s a long night. I don’t sleep at all—between the hunger and the discomfort and Victoria’s nearness, it was always a lost cause. Eventually, I hear the birds start to wake outside.

  Beside me, Victoria is still breathing s
teadily. She hasn’t moved in some time. Slowly, quietly, I climb to my feet.

  I make it two steps before I hear her voice behind me.

  “I told you not to bother trying to sneak out.”

  When I turn, Victoria is sitting up, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

  I straighten my shoulders. “I’d prefer not to argue again—”

  “Then don’t. I’m coming, whether you like it or not.” She climbs to her feet, and even though she tries to hide the pain she experiences when she puts weight on her foot, she does a poor job of it. “As I told you yesterday, if you go without me I’ll just come after you. And then you’ll just be the asshole prince who left the poor injured girl to hobble along down the road by herself.”

  Her stubbornness is truly starting to exasperate me. As much as I admire her determination, this can’t be allowed to continue.

  “You realize you’re only going to slow me down, don’t you?” I say. “We’ll have help much faster if you allow me to go on my own.”

  “I don’t care,” she says.

  “What do you mean, you don’t care?” I demand. “This isn’t a game, Victoria. We’ve been without rescue for two nights now, and I’d rather not endure a third.” Not when she’s sleeping right next to me—I don’t think my body could bear another night of that. Not to mention the fact that the media has probably learned of my disappearance by now, which will only complicate my already complicated situation. We need to handle this quickly.

  “You have food and water here,” I remind her. “You’ll be safe. And you need to rest your foot, unless you want to make things worse. If you can’t see that, then I can’t help you.” I march over to the door. “Follow me if you like, but I won’t be held responsible for your stupidity.”

  My hand has closed around the doorknob when I hear the soft word behind me.

  “Please.”

  I turn. Victoria is looking at me pleadingly, and there’s something in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Something almost…vulnerable.

  “I know it’s stupid,” she says. “But please don’t leave me here alone.”

  “Victoria—”

  “I know I’ll only slow you down. I know I’ll probably just make my foot worse. But that’s better than sitting here all day, wondering if anyone will ever come for me.”

  I frown. “Of course someone will come for you. You have my word that I will send—”

  “And why should I trust your word when you refuse to trust mine?” she says. “You won’t even tell me the story you hired me to write. And forgive me, Your Highness, but our current situation is a little more desperate.”

  I search her face, trying to understand where her fear is coming from. “Do you honestly think me capable of leaving you here? Of not sending help the moment I can?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, closing her eyes. “Just please. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

  There’s something deeper going on here, something I’m not sure I can begin to understand right now. But looking at her, hearing the plea in her voice, I find my arguments breaking down. Yes, she will slow me down. Yes, I could do this better without her. But at the same time, I can’t refuse her.

  “Fine,” I say. “You can come. But we need to leave as soon as possible. It’s still a fair distance to that town, and we need to do everything in our power to reach help before sundown.”

  Victoria

  I don’t expect him to understand. I don’t really want him to understand—I just don’t want to be left here alone. That’s all he needs to know.

  “Stupid girl.” He mutters the words under his breath.

  “Pardon me, Your Highness, I already admitted it was stupid. But I am not a girl.”

  He glares at me for a second. “What are you going to do about your foot? You can’t walk on it like that. And I’m not about to carry you—”

  “I would never ask you to do such a thing.” I return the glare. “While you were out yesterday, I found these.” I walk over to the small box near the kitchen where I found the cans of food. I pull out a musty pair of hiking boots—they’re probably four sizes too big for me, but they’re better than nothing. “I promise I won’t complain about my feet. But we have a bigger problem.”

  He lifts a brow. “And what might that be?”

  “Water. We have the cans from last night, but they aren’t going to hold much. Even if we open up a few more and eat what’s inside, it isn’t like we have a way to carry them.”

  “Which is why you should stay here. Really, Ms. Simpson, you’re being entirely too stubborn about this.”

  I ignore him—he can say what he wants, but I’m not about to stay in this place alone. “I think we need to look around outside. See if there’s something that might hold more water.”

  “I will take a look outside then.” He motions at the moldy boots. “You can put those on while I’m looking.”

  I nod in agreement and he walks outside. I grab the boots and limp over to the door—there’s no way I’m going to let him sneak away.

  But it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to do anything of the sort. He’s looking in the back of the rusty pickup in the front yard, throwing items out from the back.

  I put on the boots and walk over to help.

  He doesn’t even look up. “Really, Ms. Simpson. If you can’t take me at my word—”

  “I think we already went over this. You don’t take me at mine. Why would I take you at yours?”

  He glances up, giving me an expression I don’t really recognize—some combination of exasperation and disgust, I think. He blinks at me a few times before he lifts something out of the cab of the truck and holds it up.

  It’s a watering can.

  He frowns. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind. I’d hoped for a canteen or some such item. Something a little more appropriate for drinking—”

  “It has a handle and it’ll hold a lot of water.” I can’t help but grin. “It’s perfect.”

  He lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything else.

  We walk back into the house. Andrew fills the watering can while I gather what’s left of the food, the cups and the first aid kit. I pull the cushion of the chair off and rip the seam before I pull the stuffing out to make a sort of bag to carry everything in.

  “Ingenious.” Andrew shakes his head. “I really must learn more about these Girl Scouts you’ve been carrying on about. Perhaps you would like to help start this training in Montovia. If you’re still planning to come, that is.”

  I don’t respond to the last part of it—I still can’t imagine getting on an airplane at this point, and I still don’t see what the big deal is about going there at all.

  I let out a sigh. “It isn’t like the Girl Scouts taught me this.” My voice drops a little. “I don’t think anything can prepare you for this.”

  He watches me for a moment in silence. “Indeed. I must say, though, that you’ve surprised me.” He glances at the bed before he turns his gaze back to me. “And considering what is in that bed, I’m even more impressed that you didn’t throw a fit last night.”

  I lift a brow. “I’m not much of a fit thrower, Your Highness. If I should ever throw a fit, you’ll know something is really wrong.”

  He doesn’t say anything—he only nods.

  I smile. “Shall we go then? I think we have everything.”

  He lifts the watering can and we walk out the door.

  We walk in silence for some time, following the dirt road for at least a few miles before he speaks to me again.

  “Is your foot all right?”

  I look over at him, but his attention is focused on the road ahead—not that there’s much of a road at all. It’s little more than a dirt path, really, and there’s no sign of any life or anything else for as far as I can see.

  But I nod. “It’s fine. You wrapped it well. Did you learn first aid in the military?”

  He turns to me with a small glare. “Among other things, yes.
”

  I’m not sure what’s got him so hot about my question—he didn’t seem to mind talking about his military service when we were talking about airplanes, so I’m not sure what the big deal is.

  We walk another few miles in silence before we stop in a clearing for water and to share a can of beets. I’m not feeling especially hungry, though, and I let him have most of the can. I’m starting to feel a little hot, to be honest, and I’m almost afraid my foot might be getting infected. But I’m not going to worry about that now. Right now, I just want to make it back to civilization. Back to a warm bed and a hot shower. Not that I would mind sharing either of those things with Andrew…

  Oh my God. I did not just think that.

  I glance over at him, but he’s focused entirely on the can of beets. He seems to sense me looking at him and he glances up at me, frowning. “You should have some more of these. Before I eat the entire can.”

  I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m really not that hungry. I drank all that water before we left.” I force a smile. “Besides, I’ve never really liked beets.”

  He lifts a brow. “Neither have I.” The corners of his mouth tick up into what I swear is almost a smile. “But I must say, I’ve never had them pickled before. The flavor is…interesting.”

  I smile and after a few seconds I’m rewarded with something that I’m almost sure could pass for a smile from him.

  “Shall we continue on? You should have another cup of water before we continue, especially if you’re going to insist on not eating.” He dips my cup into the watering can and hands it to me. His voice lowers a bit. “It’s your foot, isn’t it?”

  I take the water from him and shake my head. “It’s fine. I already told you.”

  He nods. “I estimate we may have six or seven more kilometers before we reach the main road. Of course, main road may be an overstatement—there’s no way to know how well traveled it will be. Or if it is traveled at all. There’s a possibility we may have to spend the night outside again if we can’t flag down assistance.”