Royal Mistake: The Complete Series

by Ember Casey

  Coward? The word burns through me, turning my anger into pure rage. Part of me knows I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’s gotten to me, but as he tips back his head and laughs again, I lose all sense of control. It’s one thing to insult me. But to insult my family, my father, Victoria, and Montovia is too much. Far, far too much.

  I’m no longer seeing straight. My vision has gone red, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m striding toward Reginald, closing the remaining distance between us. He’s still laughing, not even looking at me—in fact, it’s one of his cronies who first sees the intention in my eyes. But it’s already too late. I’m right in front of Reginald now, and before he even has a chance to react, my fist flies at his face. My knuckles hit his nose with the most satisfying CRRRACK!

  For a moment, the whole world seems to go still. The crowd around us goes dead silent. My body goes perfectly still. No one seems to know what to do, myself included.

  And then all at once Reginald’s friends move—all three of them charge me at once, even as Reginald is still recovering. A fist flies at the side of my face, and I duck—only to be hit in the ribs by a fist coming at me from the other side.

  Shit. I should have known that a fight with Reginald was a fight with all four of them…

  I bite back a comment about other people fighting Reginald’s fights for him—I need to concentrate all my energy on getting out of this without causing an international scandal. Or losing all my teeth.

  But I have a feeling the time for diplomacy is past. I swing my arms—more in an attempt to protect myself than an attempt to land any punches, but at least one of my fists connects with someone’s stomach. The next few minutes become a blur of bodies and punches and sharp stabs of pain.

  And then I realize I’m not alone—Nicholas has joined in, too. And William—when did he get here?

  “Stay out of this,” I growl at them before shoving one of Reginald’s cronies away from me. There’s no reason for them to be beaten to a pulp as well.

  But I know my brothers better than that—there’s no way they’re running from this fight, not now. And frankly, I’m glad to have them on my side—it might be the only way I get out of this.

  Dimly, I’m aware that the shouts around us have gotten louder, and I pray none of the other citizens of Montovia are careless enough to join in the fray. In fact, I hope at least one of them has the sense to go retrieve the Montovian Guard. They might be the only ones who can stop this now.

  Knuckles slam into my jaw. I stumble back a step as pain shoots through me and stars flash across my vision.

  I should leave the fighting to Leopold. I’m going to be one giant bruise by the end of this. But I don’t stop. I swing my arm at the man who just struck me, hitting him right in the gut. He doubles over, and I straighten, trying to get my bearings.

  Just in time to see Sophia leap into the fight.

  I curse and lunge for her, but it’s too late—she leaps toward Reginald, who has Nicholas by the collar and is about to clock him right in the face. She grabs Reginald’s back, and he doesn’t pause to see who’s attacking him. He twists around, throwing his fist at his attacker.

  And hits her right on the cheek.

  A collective gasp goes up from the crowd around us, and once again, the entire scene seems to freeze. The angry glee on Reginald’s face gives way to shock when he realizes he’s just struck my little sister. Even for a bastard like Reginald, punching a young princess is going too far.

  “Holy fuck,” he mutters, clearly understanding the horror of what he’s just done. His fingers release Nicholas’s collar, and he glances around. “She grabbed me! You all saw that, didn’t you? She grabbed me!” He swipes at his nose—it’s bleeding from where I hit him a few moments ago.

  I rush forward, bending to help Sophia. William does too. She looks all right—if dazed—but she’s going to have a terrible black eye in the morning.

  “I think you should go,” I say to Reginald, my voice dripping with venom. “Or should I have the guards throw you into our prison for attacking our princess?”

  “She attacked me first!” Reginald insists, looking around at his friends for support.

  One of them steps forward. “She did. I saw it.”

  “Is it acceptable to strike a woman in your country?” I demand. “Under any circumstances?”

  “I didn’t know she was a woman when she grabbed me!” His eyebrows snap together as his gaze focuses on me. “And you’re the one who has me going up against your little American whore in the tournament tomorrow. Are you going to be upset if I actually fight? Or are you going to blame me and accuse me of things if I hit her with the pointy end of my épée?”

  I stand, helping Sophia to her feet beside me. It’s taking every ounce of my energy to keep from charging him again.

  “Go,” I say, “or I will have you escorted away in handcuffs.”

  Reginald doesn’t have to be told again. With a glance at his friends, he turns and strides through the crowd. The onlookers fall back, stumbling out of his path—all of them but Lady Clarissa, who stands at the front of the circle. She must have arrived with William, but she doesn’t have eyes for my brother now. Instead, she watches Reginald, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was interest in her expression. When Reginald strides past her, she doesn’t even look our way. Instead, she walks through the crowd after him and his friends.

  Let her go, I think. One less person to worry about right now.

  I turn my full attention to Sophia. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live.” She presses her fingers gingerly against her cheek. “His punch is pretty weak. Nicholas used to hit me harder when we were kids.”

  Nicholas stumbles over, rolling his sleeves up over his elbows. He looks tired, but otherwise in one piece—though I suspect he’ll have a few bruises of his own showing up over the next few hours. William looks a little ruffled, but far better off than the rest of us.

  “We should get back to the palace,” I say, realizing we’ve caused something of a scene. Within an hour the entire city will be talking about this. I glance around again. Where the hell is Victoria? I need to find her, and quickly.

  Before I can move, though, the crowd parts again—this time to allow Leopold through—with a regiment of the Montovian Royal Guard at his back. Leopold takes one look at the three of us before cocking his head.

  “Who said you guys were allowed to have all the fun without me?” He glances around. “Where’s that blasted Reginald? I heard you were having quite the scuffle.”

  “Reginald knew it was time for him to leave,” I say, looking around at the other revelers. “I have a feeling the crowd would have turned on him if he’d lingered even a moment longer.”

  Leopold whistles. “Really? That would have been great to watch. I would have—” His voice cuts off when his eyes land on Sophia. “Fuck, Sophia, what happened?”

  She smiles. “Reginald’s weak right hook.”

  In an instant, all of the mirth goes out of Leopold’s eyes. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

  “You’re going to have to wait your turn,” I say. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to get out of the street before we start plotting murder.” My eyes scan the crowd again. “But first, I need to find Victoria.”

  “Victoria? Elle said she went back to the palace,” Leopold says.

  Oh. I guess that’s fine. Still, I feel terrible about losing her in the streets—though part of me is glad she didn’t witness this little scene. No doubt she would have been just as foolish as Sophia, diving into the middle of it without stopping to think.

  “Perhaps we should go by the hospital,” Leopold says as the four of us start toward the hospital. “Have some of those cuts and bruises looked at.”

  “And risk our parents hearing about our little scuffle?” I say. “I don’t think that’s a very wise idea.”

  “They’ll hear about it e
ither way.”

  “Our cuts and bruises are nothing our palace physicians can’t handle, I’m sure,” I say—but I have to admit my right side hurts a little when I breathe. Please don’t let me have cracked a rib…

  Still, the most important thing right now is to find Victoria.

  I reach up and touch my face. Yes, I’m going to have a few bumps and bruises, but fortunately, I’ll spend most of the rest of the week behind a mask. Somehow, my raven mask is still propped up on my head, though a few of the feathers seem to be hanging loose.

  Reginald’s words echo in my head: You’ve become quite reckless recently.

  He’s right. I have been reckless. And though it stings to acknowledge that, another part of me can’t seem to care. Given the choice, I’d punch him again.

  Did Victoria do this to me? Is she the reason I’ve been behaving like this? Or is she just another symptom of whatever madness has come over me?

  Again, I can’t seem to bring myself to care about the answer. In fact, now that I’m thinking about her again, there’s only one thing on my mind. It seems like that little fight got my blood boiling in more ways than one—suddenly, I want nothing more than to grab her and sink into her and lose myself in this wild feeling coursing through me.

  And when I get back to the palace and find her, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  Victoria

  By the time I return to the palace, I’m freezing cold. The cape I wore tonight did little to protect me from the chill in the air.

  I return to my room and take a long, hot shower, trying to wash away my doubts as much as I’m trying to warm myself.

  Part of me wants to remind myself it’s not too late to back out…of everything. I can call off the fencing tournament where I’m sure to have to spar with that Reginald asshole. I can still cancel everything—including the engagement.

  I look down at my ring for a moment. I’ve only been able to take it off to shower, and even then my finger feels naked without it on. There’s something so right about this ring. It’s the perfect symbol of my love for Andrew. Of his love for me.

  But the pressure of this entire situation is about to kill me.

  I slip into bed and stare at my ring for a long time. I don’t understand exactly where this uncertainty is coming from. I’ve been uncertain about everything since the beginning, but the one thing that always felt right was Andrew. Andrew the man, not Andrew the Crown Prince of Montovia.

  It’s only a moment after I turn off the lights that Andrew slips into my bedroom and lies down beside me.

  He reaches for me, and I slide over on the bed to avoid his grasp. “Andrew, I told Elle I’d see you in the morning. You shouldn’t have—”

  “I didn’t see Elle.” There’s something almost broken in his voice. “What is it, Victoria?”

  “I…” I pause, hesitating. He has enough to worry about without hearing my fears again. “It’s nothing. I just… I need some time to think.”

  He sighs. “There’s nothing to think about tonight, my love. Tonight, we should be happy we have to opportunity to be in each other’s arms.”

  I can’t quite place it, but something definitely seems…wrong. “I am. I am happy to have something to celebrate. I just… I love you. I do. I’m just not sure—”

  “The only thing we need to be certain of is our love for each other. I’m certain of that. Are you?”

  “Yes.” I smile, though I know he can’t see me in the pitch darkness. “Yes, I’m certain of that, too. I love you more than—”

  I’m interrupted with a kiss. But there’s something not right about—something almost tenuous in his touch. I reach to cup his cheek, and that’s when I feel it. Something swollen about his cheek. Something crusted on there, too. If I didn’t know better…

  He flinches under my touch, and I hear him try to cover up what almost sounds like a whimper.

  I reach for the light and turn it on. It’s obvious now why my touch caused him so much pain—both sides of his face are swollen and a shade I can only describe as a mixture of red and purple. A color I’ve seen before—the start of bruising.

  “What happened to you, Andrew?” I resist the urge to touch his face again, knowing it will only hurt him. “Did someone—?”

  “It was Reginald. And I can only hope he looks a hell of a lot worse than I do about now.” He slides closer to me. “If you had heard the things he said about you—”

  “I would have pulled you by the arm to leave. I certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to…” My voice drifts off, and I let out a sigh. “Andrew, I think we’ve been over this. I do not need you defending my honor.”

  “Victoria, I will always defend your honor, particularly now that we are to be husband and wife.”

  “You do not need to—”

  He lifts himself onto his elbow and kisses me again to stop me from speaking. And there’s something different about this kiss. It’s not only passion I feel from him, there’s something deeper. Something that makes me melt and not want to argue any longer. Something that makes me understand what it means to him to be able to defend me as he has. Not that I will ever condone him fighting like a teenager, but I can hardly complain about having someone in my life willing to fight for me. I’m not sure I’ve ever had that before Andrew.

  He guides me onto my back, deepening the kiss before he slides an arm behind me. He pulls my hand into his, lifting my arm over my head as he lowers himself onto me.

  He stops, trying to suppress a moan I can tell is pain.

  “Andrew…” I kiss him gently on the side of his mouth. “We don’t have to—”

  “Of course we don’t have to, Victoria. But I very much want to.”

  I nod, shifting myself out from under him. “I realize that, and I want to, too.” I smile, gently running my finger over the buttons of his shirt. “But we have options… I’m sure we can figure out something…some way to do this where you don’t have to do all the work.”

  He stares at me for a moment, a slow smile forming on his lips. “I believe I like the sound of this, Victoria.”

  “I thought you might.” I smile again, reaching for the light.

  He grabs me by the wrist. “Don’t. I want you to leave the light on for this.”

  My smile turns to a grin. I’m only too happy to oblige.

  Andrew

  When I wake, my entire body aches.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have exerted myself so much. I’ve never been much of a fighter—I’ve always considered myself above such crassness—but I have to admit that a part of me is pleased with myself. It felt good, punching Reginald. I know I shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much, but that fight allowed me to release some of the energy that has been building up in me these last few weeks. Victoria doesn’t have to worry—I have no plans to engage in another fight anytime soon—but I’m glad I gave that bastard a taste of my fist.

  I roll over in bed, wincing at the sharp ache that moves through my side. I should definitely visit the royal physicians today.

  First, though, my attention is focused on something much more important. Victoria seems to sense I’m watching her, because she stirs and slowly opens her eyes.

  “Good morning,” I murmur.

  She gives me a lazy, sleepy smile. But it only lasts a moment before falling away and being replaced by a look of concern.

  “You look awful,” she says, reaching out and touching my cheek.

  I suck in a breath as her fingers press against the swollen skin beneath my eye.

  “I’m sorry,” she says quickly, pulling her hand away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just…well, it looks even worse this morning than it did last night.”

  “A few battle wounds never killed anybody,” I say lightly, trying to make a joke of things.

  But I can tell by the look in her eyes that her thoughts from last night still haven’t faded, that her concern for me and my actions go beyond the bruises on my skin.

  “I’ll go s
ee the physicians this morning,” I say gently. “And I won’t let Reginald goad me into another fight. Frankly, I’ll be surprised if he dares to show his face again.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think this whole thing will just make him more pissed off?”

  “Fair point.” As much as I’d like to tell myself otherwise, I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of Reginald.

  Speaking of…

  “You don’t have to enter the tournament, you know,” I tell her again.

  She hesitates, and I can tell by the look on her face that she’s been at least considering the idea of dropping out. But after a moment, she shakes her head.

  “I said I’m going to do it, and I’m going to do it,” she says.

  I prop myself up fully on my elbow, trying not to wince in the process. “You shouldn’t feel obliged to—”

  “It’s not about obligation. It’s about standing up to a bully.” She sits herself up against the pillows. “And doing it in a way that doesn’t leave anyone with a black eye.”

  “If you want to face him in the tournament, then I will be there to support you,” I say, taking her hand and brushing my lips against her knuckles. “But if he even attempts to do something untoward—”

  “What do you think he’s going to do in the middle of the tournament?”

  I look at her levelly. “He had no qualms about insulting Montovia and suggesting my father is about to die in the middle of the street. I can’t even begin to imagine what he might say or do when he’s up against you. The man has no manners or morals.”

  She frowns, and I can see the wheels working in her mind.

  I tighten my grip on her hand. “As I said, you don’t have to enter—”

  “And what sort of message will that send? I’m not afraid of him, Andrew. I refuse to let some dick call the shots.”

  In spite of everything, I find myself fighting back a smile. The Victoria I know and love isn’t one to back down from a challenge.