by Ember Casey
“Of course.” She splays her hands in front of her. “You don’t need to say another word. I’m happy to go.” She gives me another strange nod before she turns on her heel and leaves the room.
Andrew pulls my hand into his. “My sister is not taking this well at all. It is a long plane ride to South America—I hope she can handle it. Perhaps…perhaps I should have another member of the family accompany her.” He purses his lips as he pulls out his phone. “Maybe one of our cousins…”
I touch his forearm lightly and look up into his eyes. “I think you should trust her. Let her prove herself to you. If she didn’t want to go, I don’t think she would have said she did.”
He gazes into my eyes for a moment before he gives me a small smile. “You’re right, of course.” He nods. “I will send one of the valets with her, though.”
I nod, forcing a small smile of my own.
He types something into his phone before he places it back in his pocket. “You’re good at this, Victoria.”
“I don’t know about that, but…” My voice trails off as I see the dark circles that have formed under his eyes. “You’re exhausted, Andrew. You should try to rest before you have to give your speech. You said William is going to the senate meeting this morning?”
He nods, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “As much as I would like to go, there is no time. They’re moving my father to the hospital within the hour, and I’ll have to do the press conference from there. I’ve had our press secretary invite a few people from the media—people trusted by my father.” He lets out a long sigh. “I apologize, Victoria, that the list did not include…” His voice trails off, but he doesn’t finish the sentence.
I already know his sentence ends with my name. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have expected to ever cover a matter of state, Andrew.”
He covers our clasped hands with his other and closes his eyes. “Please, please don’t be offended.”
“I’m not.”
He opens his eyes to look back into mine. “I read the speech you sent. It’s perfect. It will be very reassuring to the people of Montovia.”
“Good.” I force a small smile. “You should have as many of your family members there as you can. Both of your brothers if they can manage it.”
He nods. “Nicholas is scheduled to arrive within the next hour or so. William may or may not be able to attend, but I’ll have whomever is available there with me.”
“Standing with you. And Princess Justine. She needs to be at your side, too.”
His shoulders drop. “Victoria—”
I shake my head. “Don’t argue, Andrew. We both know it’s the right thing.”
“I’m in no mood to argue about anything. But I do want you in the room.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll stand in the back. And I promise not to make a scene.” I squeeze his hand. “And when you’re done, I’m going to go—”
“Don’t.” He turns his head slowly from side to side. “Don’t say you’re going to leave. We…we never finished our date. And—”
“I’ll finish it in my head, Andrew.”
He turns, wrapping his arm around my waist and almost pulling me onto his lap before he tips his forehead to mine. “It’s not enough.”
“It is, though. You’ve given me more than I ever could have hoped for. More than I deserved.”
He drops his forehead to my shoulder, shaking his head against me.
I reach up and thread my fingers in his hair, holding him there for a moment before I tilt my head to kiss the top of his. “I’m sorry.”
He lifts his head and looks into my eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for, Victoria.”
I tilt my head. “I wish I could be more. I wish I could give you everything. I…” My eyes fill with tears. “I wish I was enough.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw tightening for a second. He opens his eyes and tips his forehead against mine again. “You, Victoria, are so much more than enough.”
Andrew
I wish I could have stayed in Victoria’s room all morning—wrapped my arms around her and slept the hours away. Perhaps when we woke up, I would have found all of this to be a dream.
But I’ll be the good son, the good heir, for a little longer. Even though my exhaustion is getting harder and harder to ignore with every passing hour. My body feels heavy. My head is foggy, but the haze is periodically split by sharp, stabbing pains, a constant reminder that it’s been far too long since I’ve slept.
And it will be some time yet before you see your bed again, I remind myself. There’s no time to rest before my speech—I must focus on the task ahead.
Once again, I read over the speech Victoria wrote for me. It truly is beautiful—the perfect way to handle this very delicate situation.
I glance at my watch. Only ten minutes left until it’s time for me to make my speech. I’ve been here at the hospital for almost two hours, and I’ve spent most of that time pacing back and forth at the foot of my father’s bed. My mother sits at his side, and a nurse is here at all times to keep an eye on his condition.
I fold the speech back up and return it to my pocket. I walk over to my mother and bend over, kissing her softly on the cheek.
“It’s time for us to go,” I tell her softly. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. You can still choose to stay with him if you prefer.”
“I am the queen,” she tells me, rising. “I should be there.”
I understand the look in her eyes—it’s one I know all too well. My mother might not normally be as stubbornly married to her duties as I am, but like the rest of our family, I think she finds comfort in turning to her responsibilities during a time like this.
I offer her my arm, and she gives me a small smile as she takes it.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” she says quietly to me as we head down the hospital corridor toward the room they’ve prepared for the announcement. “Your father would be, too, if he could see how well you’ve been handling this.”
“I’m afraid I’ve caused more problems for Father than I’ve effectively handled,” I say. “If it weren’t for the stress I’ve caused him, he probably wouldn’t even be in this situation right now.”
My mother looks up at me, frowning. “I knew you would do this—blame yourself. You always take so much responsibility on your own shoulders.” She stops, forcing me to stop, too. “Your father has always been the same way, which is why he takes things so seriously. He doesn’t like when things happen outside of his control—because deep down, he feels like he should be able to control them. Both as a king and as a father. He sees every member of this family as his responsibility, and every choice we make is his responsibility, too. I know it’s difficult to tell sometimes, but he’s so strict because he thinks he’s protecting you—and when you or Leopold or any of the others defy him, he gets angry because he’s worried about you. At some point, he has to learn that you need to be free to make your own choices, whether or not he believes them to be the best choices for you. And if you make a mistake…well, then perhaps it will teach you a valuable lesson that will make you an even better king someday.”
Perhaps it’s just the fog of exhaustion in my brain, but I have a hard time fully comprehending her words.
“Listen to me, Andrew,” she says, reaching up and placing her hand on my cheek. “You are a good man. Good and wise and strong. You will make a wonderful king someday. But to do that, you must remember to trust yourself. And yes—sometimes that means ignoring your father’s advice or suggestions.”
I offer her what I hope passes for a smile. “I understand.”
“Do you?” she asks, her eyes growing sharp. “Do you truly?”
“I’m trying to,” I tell her honestly.
That seems to satisfy her for the moment, because she gives a nod and looks down the corridor. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation later. I wouldn’t want us to be late.”
We continue down th
e hall, reaching the temporary press chamber with only a couple of minutes to spare. William is waiting there for us, as is Nicholas. Princess Justine also stands nearby.
“Thank you all for joining me,” I tell them. “I’ll try to make this as quick and painless an event as possible. I will be receiving no questions from the press, and I request that you decline any queries they put to you. A couple of days from now, when we have a little more information, we’ll hold a larger, longer press conference. Understood?”
Everyone nods and murmurs their agreement.
“Good,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “Then let’s proceed.”
Together, we walk into the room to face the handful of reporters and photographers waiting for us. I shouldn’t be nervous in front of so few people—I’ve spoken to far, far larger crowds before—but I am. This event will be broadcast live on local Montovian television, so I must be perfect.
I stand at the podium, letting my eyes move across the small crowd.
Where is she? She promised she’d be here…
Finally, I spot her—in the very back, nearly hidden. Victoria is there, watching me, and when our eyes meet she gives me a small, encouraging smile.
I can do this.
I clear my throat and begin.
The first half of my speech focuses entirely on my father—his current state of health is the most important news, of course. I see the concern on the faces of the reporters—they must have expected something, of course, since the press conference is here at the hospital—but I remain calm and give them some of the basic facts: my father had a health scare, he’s currently stable and well cared for, and we’ll make another announcement as soon as we have more information. I’m sure the reporters have questions, but they’ve already been given strict instructions that they will be thrown out of the press conference if they speak out of turn.
“With that,” I say, “I’d like to get a little more personal.”
There’s a stillness in the air, a tension that seems to settle over me. I take a deep breath and continue.
“I know I’ve been in the news a lot recently,” I say. “And I know I have a lot to apologize for. By now you will have heard that I made a mistake that has cost my family and this country one of our most prized possessions—the royal scepter. This scepter has been passed down through my family for generations. It is a symbol of national pride, a physical representation of our nation. Through my own carelessness, the scepter no longer belongs to our country.
“I understand that no apology can undo what I have done. But nonetheless, I will not shy away from apologizing. I will take responsibility for what I have done and lay myself humbly at your feet. I am sorry for my act of recklessness. I am sorry that I put my own pride ahead of that of our nation. I am sorry that I behaved like a fool and a child. I am sorry that I allowed myself to forget, even for a single night, that my first duty is—and will always be—to serve Montovia.”
I curl my hands around the edges of the podium. “I do not ask for or expect your forgiveness. It is not for me to ask anything of you—it is my duty to give. To serve the people of Montovia. I cannot ask for your forgiveness—I must earn your forgiveness. And I intend to dedicate the rest of my life to that goal, to being the prince—and future king—that you deserve.”
My eyes fall down to the next paragraph of the speech, the one where I tell them that my first step toward achieving that noble goal is to marry Princess Justine. I lift my chin, looking back out at the reporters.
“I know many of you perhaps expected to hear the announcement of a betrothal today,” I say. “My search for a wife has certainly been no secret—after my plane crash several weeks ago, I thought the best way to serve Montovia would be to marry and quickly produce an heir. To show the citizens of this country that I was dedicated to life, to fulfilling my duties as crown prince. I thought that marrying would be the first major step toward becoming the king I want to be someday.
“But if there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught me, it’s that becoming a good ruler is about more than what I do or don’t do. It’s about listening to my heart, about trusting my soul. It’s about finding the truth. About realizing how much I don’t know—and allowing myself to be humble and open enough to learn. Every moment I spend on this earth is a moment to learn. And now that my eyes have been opened, I intend to spend the rest of my life, day in and day out, learning from you, the people of Montovia, how best to serve you.”
My eyes wander past the reporters to the back of the room. To Victoria. I can see the anxiety in her eyes—she’s alarmed that I’ve gone off script.
“So no, I won’t be announcing an engagement today,” I say. “But I do want the world to know what is responsible for this revelation I’ve had. It’s not just the hardships that have shown me the truth about my life, no—it’s love. I’m in love with a remarkable woman named Victoria Simpson, and she has taught me more about myself than I ever thought possible. It is because of her that I am here before you today. Because of her that I finally understand how I might best serve the citizens of Montovia. Because of her that I see my true purpose in life. And I want the whole world to know that I love her completely.”
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: April, 2017
Victoria
Off script. He’s gone off script. The words play over and over in my mind. I don’t even hear what it is Andrew is saying—I can only hear the thrashing of my heartbeat in my ears.
He’s not going to marry Justine because he’s in love.
He’s in love. He’s in love. With me.
With me? I know he’s said it before, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. And my feelings for him could never be the main concern. Even though I love him, too, I can’t be the woman he deserves. I can’t be any part of the future of Montovia.
Andrew is swarmed after the speech—his family members crowd around him. I suppose it’s an attempt to protect him from any unwanted questions from the press, but it isn’t as though the media have any rights in this country to ask him anything. I can’t understand what the family might be so worried about. But then I remember.
He’s not marrying Justine.
That probably throws everything in the kingdom into question. How will they get the rights to the scepter back if Andrew doesn’t marry her? And what will happen if his father should die?
My head is throbbing—I never wanted anything to do with this life. I’m supposed to be asking the questions—not trying to solve the problems.
I slip into the corridor outside the small conference room and lean against the wall, more to steady myself—and steady my thoughts—than anything else.
A man walks up to me and says something. Then another. And another.
Before I know it, I’m surrounded by the same members of the press who had been in the conference room—all of them peppering me with questions. I can barely make out any of the individual voices—they’re all speaking at the same time.
Victoria, will you be marrying Prince Andrew?
Victoria, how long has this relationship been going on?
Ms. Simpson, was Prince Andrew’s pageant for a bride a ruse?
Ms. Simpson, are you prepared to be queen?
My stomach rolls as my eyes lock with the man who asks the last question. I clutch at my middle—hoping not to vomit on the group I might have been part of only a few weeks ago—before I edge around them and tear down the hallway.
I find my w
ay to a glass door that leads to an enclosed courtyard in the middle of the hospital. It’s not like I’m hidden here, but at least there’s a little bit of air.
I sit down on a stone bench on the other side of a fountain—I’m not quite hidden from view, but I’m far enough away that it would be difficult for anyone to see me unless they had witnessed me entering the small area.
It takes me a few moments to catch my breath, and I’m still not entirely sure I can believe what happened in the conference room.
But I don’t get to ponder on my confusion for long—the glass door swings open and I see someone walking toward me.
At first, I think it might be Andrew. But that thought slips away quickly—Andrew is busy tending to his family right now, and my near-hysteria over what he’s said shouldn’t be anywhere near the top of his mind.
As the figure nears, I see it’s a woman, and then I recognize Princess Justine. Her pace slows to almost a tiptoe as she nears me.
She finally slips around the fountain to the side where I’m sitting. She casts a glance over her shoulder—it almost looks like she’s trying to see if anyone has followed her—before she walks over to sit on another nearby bench.
We sit there in silence for a time. I glance over at her after a while—she has her hands clasped tightly on her lap and she’s staring down at them, almost like she’s praying. But her eyes are open—she’s muttering something to herself, but it doesn’t seem to be a prayer.
Her eyes are ringed red and they’re slightly puffy. She finally lifts her gaze from her hands and turns to look over at me.
She frowns, narrowing her eyes. “I didn’t ask for this, you know. None of it. I had my reasons to be part of the silly pageant, but I never wanted a betrothal.”
“I…I can’t imagine you did.”
“My father…” Her voice almost cracks with the word and she drops her gaze to her hands again. “My father can be a very cruel man when he wants to be. He’s been threatening to marry me to one of the Montovian princes since I was born. And not in a good way, you understand.”