Royal Mistake: The Complete Series

by Ember Casey

  “Why? Why did you come here to watch? To be sure nothing…untoward happened between me and your brother?”

  He stares at me for a moment. “Yes.”

  My brow furrows. “Yes?”

  He nods. “Yes.”

  I glance over my shoulder again. Clarissa is wearing a chest guard now and William is trying to show her how to hold the weapon.

  I turn back to Andrew and lower my voice. “To what end?” I drop my voice so low that only Andrew can hear me. “What happened last night is not going to happen again.”

  “Agreed. However, that does not mean I want it happening between you and my brother.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “And why not?” I’m seething, speaking through my clenched teeth. “It isn’t as though I get to dictate who you sleep with.”

  He glances at Clarissa and back at me. “No, you do not.”

  I shake my head and start to walk away.

  “You have not been dismissed.”

  I spin on my heel to face him. “Pardon me?”

  “You have a job to do. Lady Clarissa and I are together—you should be taking notes on our courtship.”

  I glare at him. I don’t even get to tell him where he can shove his dismissals before I’m interrupted.

  “Andrew,” Clarissa calls. “I would prefer that you show me how to hold this thing. It’s so heavy.”

  He’s frowning, but he walks over to her.

  William walks back over to me, lifting off his chest guard and jacket. He glances at Andrew and his date before looking back at me and shaking his head. “I tried to tell him about noblewomen. What a pain in the ass they all are.”

  I lift a brow and try to suppress my grin.

  Clarissa’s whiny voice is loud enough to fill the entire gym and it’s impossible not to snap my head to watch her when I hear it. “Andrew, I think it would be better if you show me like this.” She pulls his arms around her and presses her ass right up to him, rubbing against his midsection. What she’s doing isn’t even suggestive—it’s obvious.

  And I’m obviously in the way.

  Andrew’s face turns about four shades of red, but he doesn’t look at me. He takes Clarissa’s hand and wraps it around the handle of the épée, allowing her to rub herself against him while he does.

  Every muscle in my body is so tight I can barely move. But I tear my gaze away from the show and walk to the door.

  I get to the exit before I notice William beside me when he opens the door for me.

  I look up at him, trying to hide the pinched expression I can feel on my face. “You should probably chaperone them—it looks like they’re going to need it.”

  He nods, almost grimacing. “Can we meet again tomorrow night?”

  I frown. “I’m not sure I can take another night like this.”

  Andrew

  It takes far too long to convince Clarissa that she doesn’t need to learn fencing. She seems determined to spend the entire evening rubbing against me—even with William watching—but she finally agrees to end our “practice.”

  She rubs her wrist as I hang up her practice gear. “It’s so hard, darling. You must be very strong to lift that sword for more than a few minutes.”

  “It’s called an épée,” I say, trying not to sound exasperated.

  “Oh, yes,” she says with a little wave of her hand. “Shall we take a stroll through the gardens next? You promised you’d show them to me.”

  “And I’m happy to, but I’d prefer to give that tour during daylight,” I tell her. “I’m sure you’ll find it much more enjoyable when you can see everything.”

  “I can think of a few ways we might make it enjoyable tonight,” she says, stroking my arm suggestively.

  Dear God, how do I escape this woman?

  “I’m afraid I have some business to attend to,” I tell her.

  She pouts. “So late?”

  “Sadly, playing host has cut into the time I normally spend working,” I tell her. “I have many responsibilities in my position—and I’ll have many more when I am king. My future wife must understand that my duty to Montovia comes first.” I hate myself for playing into her aspirations, but it works. She straightens, nodding.

  “Of course,” she says. “I understand completely. Though I’ll still need an escort back to my room…”

  I glance around quickly for William, but he’s either hiding or he has already managed to escape. Curse him.

  “I’ll walk you to your door, of course,” I tell her.

  She smiles and grabs my arm again.

  I try not to walk too close to her as we make our way back to the palace, but Lady Clarissa keeps pressing nearer and leaning into my side. Once or twice she tries to whisper something into my ear, but I turn away quickly, pretending to be distracted by other things.

  You only have to deal with her a little while longer, I tell myself. As soon as I returned from the Montovian City Academy, I had inquiries sent to another handful of potential brides—I want this pageant underway quickly. The events of today have convinced me of two things—first, that I must find a wife as soon as possible, and second, that Lady Clarissa is not as suited to the position as I hoped she would be.

  The fact that the senate meeting lasted so long can only mean one thing—that Prince Reginald has finally decided to collect on the debt I owe him. I’ve had a knot in my stomach all evening, waiting for the inevitable summons from my father. He will want an explanation, and the only one I have to give makes shame burn through me.

  It seems an incredibly long walk back to Lady Clarissa’s rooms. She squeezes my arm when we reach the door.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” she asks.

  “I cannot,” I tell her simply.

  She starts to speak again, but I cut her off.

  “Goodnight, Lady Clarissa.”

  I turn and stride away from her before she can speak or touch me again. My chest tightens when I walk past Victoria’s room—I ache to have her in my arms again tonight—but I cannot knock on her door. I can feel Clarissa’s eyes on my back until I reach the very end of the corridor.

  I make my way back to my suite, trying to maintain my composure. I remind myself of the things I said to Viktor only this afternoon—about remaining strong and remembering why I’m doing all of this—but it’s difficult to heed my own advice. I only want to be a good ruler. To serve Montovia with integrity. But it feels like my life is spinning out of control around me, like I’m drowning in spite of acting with only the best of intentions.

  I am dizzy by the time I reach my chambers. Perhaps I’ll pour myself a glass of something amber to help calm my nerves—I used to only drink in social situations, but this last week or so, I find myself reaching for anything that might take the edge off the tension and fear that seem to have taken up permanent residence in my belly.

  Before I can find myself a drink, though, I see the note waiting for me on the side table. It bears my father’s personal seal. My stomach sinks as I flip it open and read the message inside:

  * * *

  Tomorrow morning. 7am. My office.

  * * *

  He doesn’t need to say anything more than that—I know tomorrow morning I will have much to answer for.

  I throw the note down and drag a hand through my hair. I suppose I should be relieved he didn’t come and find me immediately, that he’s allowing himself some sleep before deciding what to do with me. That is my mother’s doing, I’m sure—she always tries to persuade my father to stop and collect himself before he does something he might regret—but I’m afraid it will only give his anger time to simmer and build.

  I close my eyes. There will be no rest for me tonight, even though my body is heavy with exhaustion. I’ve slept so little since the plane crash, even with Victoria’s help—and we spent most of last night distracting ourselves with other things when we should have been resting. My limbs ache with fatigue, and my head is constantly throbbing, and the worst part is
that I see no end in sight.

  Tomorrow I must remember to ask our physician for sleeping pills, I tell myself. I’ve been so busy since arriving here that I haven’t had a chance to do that yet. Tonight, though, I’m out of luck.

  It’s too dangerous to go back to Victoria’s room, even though that’s all I want to do. I can’t risk Lady Clarissa seeing me or this will become even more complicated.

  You can go to the cottage, though, I remind myself. Maybe Victoria will have changed her mind. Maybe she’s waiting there for you.

  It’s almost too much to hope. But one thing is certain—it does little good to stay here.

  Within minutes, I’m outside and crossing the grounds again, making my way to the gardener’s cottage. Hope rises in my chest as I near the small, vine-covered house, pushing me onward even as my head throbs with anxiety and exhaustion.

  When I enter the cottage, though, I find it empty.

  “Victoria?” I call into the darkness, just in case. There’s no answer.

  I make my way into the bedroom. The bed is still unmade after our stay here last night—we should have perhaps been more careful about that—and I swear, I can still smell her here.

  I sit down on the edge of the mattress and rub my face with my hands. Every part of me aches—my head still throbs, my arm is sore from fencing, the rest of me stiff with fatigue. My tired, clouded mind tries to formulate a plan for tomorrow morning, come up with something reasonable to say to my father, but I can’t seem to form any coherent thoughts. I’m just too drained, body and mind.

  Try to sleep, I tell myself. I’m having fewer bad dreams now, but I suspect that might change without Victoria in my arms. Still, I must rest, somehow. It is the only way I will get through this.

  “Andrew?”

  Her voice startles me. I drop my hands and look up, and Victoria is standing in the doorway to the bedroom. In the dim moonlight coming in through the window, her skin looks silver.

  “I…I almost hoped you wouldn’t be here,” she says softly.

  Almost.

  “Then why are you here?” I ask her. My voice sounds hoarse.

  “The same reason you are, I suspect.”

  She can’t know the reason I’m here, not in its entirety. She can’t know how much all of this is wearing on me. Can’t know how I feel like I’ve backed myself into a corner. Can’t know that, in spite of everything, I can’t see myself making any other choice—it is my duty and honor to serve Montovia, even during the difficult times.

  She walks slowly over to me. She looks uncertain.

  “I thought you might have gone to Lady Clarissa’s room tonight,” she says.

  “No.”

  “You said last night was never going to happen again.”

  “Actually, you said that. I simply agreed.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “You’re here, too.”

  She’s stopped right in front of me, our feet nearly touching. I’m still sitting, and I look up at her.

  “I need…” My voice trails off. I need so many things—some of which, I cannot ask for. Some of which she cannot give.

  I take her hand in mine.

  “I need sleep,” I say finally. I need an escape, if only for one more night.

  She gives a single nod. “Then let’s sleep.”

  I release her hand. She climbs into the bed and I stretch out next to her, pulling her into my arms.

  Already I feel better. As if a weight has been lifted from me. I let out a long, ragged breath, letting my body relax slightly.

  She shifts in my arms. “What is it?”

  “Hm?” I say, tightening my grip on her.

  “You seem more…agitated tonight,” she says softly. “Is something wrong?”

  Everything. Everything is wrong.

  “I’m just exhausted,” I tell her.

  She’s silent for a long moment. “You’re lying to me. There’s something else.”

  I suppose she should know about the meeting with my father—after all, this business with Prince Reginald is why I hired her in the first place.

  “Remember how when I originally offered you a story, I told you I suspected something…unflattering would emerge about me?” I ask her, burying my face in her hair.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid that story is about to break,” I tell her. “I have an early meeting with my father, and I suspect he knows the truth now.”

  “What truth?” she asks. “What happened?”

  Now that the moment is here, now that we’re in Montovia and I can safely tell her, I find myself holding back. She won’t understand. She’ll think me foolish—or worse, she’ll lose what respect she has for me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I tell her. “I don’t want to think about it again until the morning.”

  For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything. And then she turns in my arms, twisting around so that she’s facing me. I can feel her breath at my throat.

  “You can tell me anything, you know,” she whispers. “I won’t write anything you don’t want me to.”

  “It’s not that,” I say, sliding my hand up her back. “I just don’t want to think about it anymore tonight.”

  She seems to understand, because she doesn’t ask me again. We lie as we are for another moment before I feel the soft brush of her lips against my throat.

  Instantly, I’m hard. My hand tightens on her back as desire rushes through me. Even in complete exhaustion, my need for her is that strong.

  She lifts her face, brings it closer to mine. My mouth finds hers in the darkness. My tongue slips along her bottom lip.

  She’s halfway on top of me already, but she slides onto me the rest of the way. I roll fully onto my back and bury my hands in her hair as I hold her face against mine.

  This is exactly the sort of distraction I need. Exactly the escape… In Victoria’s arms everything else seems far away. I don’t feel hopeless. I feel alive. And while I can’t claim to have any control when I am around her, I’m finding that losing myself in this sort of indulgence is more invigorating than frustrating.

  I raise my hips, grinding against her and showing her how much I need her. She moans softly, but when I reach for her shirt, thinking to pull it off, she suddenly pulls her mouth away from mine and sits up fully.

  “Not yet,” she says, her voice shaky. She slides off me. “Sleep first.”

  “I assure you, Victoria, I am more than capable of—”

  “Sleep first,” she says again, more firmly this time. She dips her face and gives me a soft, fleeting kiss on the lips before pulling away again. “You need to rest, Andrew. We both do.”

  Damn her, she right—though try telling that to my body. I exhale, trying to relax my body again, but the damned seductress has gotten me all worked up.

  She’s already stretching out next to me again, pulling my arm back around her.

  “Sleep,” she whispers.

  My cock is still hard. But as I wrap myself around her, I feel the exhaustion closing in again, ready to drag me under.

  “Fine, I’ll sleep,” I growl. “But I’m waking you up in a couple of hours.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  I tighten my arm around her stomach and bury my face in her hair once more.

  “Thank you,” I murmur into her hair. My voice is so quiet that she probably doesn’t hear it.

  Victoria

  Some part of me hates myself for coming here tonight. Until I heard him whisper those words into my hair as he drifted off to sleep.

  Thank you.

  I might have questioned why he was thanking me, but it’s the same reason I could thank him. Whatever this is—this relationship, if you can call it that—is completely fucked up. But neither of us can seem to be without the other, not if we hope to sleep. And as screwed up as this is, we both know it isn’t something we could ever ask of the other.

  Andrew’s breathing slows almost immediately
and his hold around my middle loosens slightly. It doesn’t take long before sleep finds me, too.

  I awaken early—it’s still dark outside. Neither Andrew nor I moved during the night—his arm is still wrapped around my waist and I’m still nestled with my back to his chest.

  Part of me wants to wake him up—to rub myself against him, let him know how much I want him. But I don’t. I can’t get the memory of the way Lady Clarissa rubbed herself all over him last night, for one thing. And how he didn’t stop her.

  But the main reason I need to get away from this—whatever this is—is because I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m not even sure why I came here last night—I have a full bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand now, after King Edmund insisted I be examined by the palace medical staff yesterday.

  A mild case of post-traumatic stress disorder. It seems like nothing—no big deal. Nothing a few nights of sleeping pills won’t cure. I could have brought them here—I could have shared them with Andrew and both of us could have slept peacefully drugged through the night. But haven’t we just accomplished the same thing without pills?

  Andrew’s breaths are still slow and steady. I’m not about to wake him from his restful slumber, even though I somehow know this will be the last night we spend together. I guess I wanted one more night with his arms wrapped around me. One more night where I was the one who could soothe him to sleep. Maybe one more night of lovemaking.

  Not that what happened yesterday was lovemaking of any sort. It was more like both of us trying to fuck our demons away.

  I carefully slide out from under his arm, but I don’t reach the end of the bed before I hear his groggy voice. “Where are you going?”

  I turn to him and force a smile. “The same place I did yesterday. I’m going to go for a run before I go back to my room. It gives me a pretty good excuse for being a mess in case anyone sees me.”

  “Mm.” His eyes fall closed again. He’s only silent for a second. “Come lie with me a little longer. You promised me…” His voice trails off as sleep finds him again.

  I have to force myself to not return to the bed. To not tear off my clothes and let him have his way with me—regardless of whether he’s fucking the demons from himself or not. Part of me longs to feel him inside of me one last time. To have him remind me once more how our bodies seem made for each other.