by Peak, Renna
Nick turns to face me, his eyes guarded and cold.
“It was over a long time ago,” he says. “There’s nothing to let go.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” I tell him, crossing my arms. “If it were really over, you wouldn’t be behaving like this.”
His eyes get even harder. “You may find this hard to believe, Clara, but you don’t know everything.”
“Then tell me!” I say. “Tell me how I’m wrong.”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead he continues down the path, and I have to jog to catch up to him again.
“Why don’t you trust me?” I ask him.
“Trust? This isn’t about trust, Clara. If you trusted me, you wouldn’t keep pressing me about this.”
“It’s not like I think you’re going to run back into her arms,” I tell him. Not really. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I just care about you and want you to be happy?”
“I’d be happy to forget about certain things altogether,” he replies. “I fail to see what’s so absurd about that.”
I clench my hands, wanting to scream in frustration. Why is he so damned stubborn? Why can’t he see what’s good for him, for once in his life?
“All I want to do,” he tells me, “is take you to see the ruins. Is that so unreasonable a thing to ask? I don’t want to entertain my cousins. I don’t want to have drawn-out conversations about my past. I just want to take a walk and show you the ruins, exactly as we planned when we set out this morning. And I don’t appreciate people acting like I’m being ridiculous for wanting to stick to the plan.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him. If he thinks I’m going to let him avoid this forever, then he’s insane.
He won’t be able to avoid her at the ball, I remind myself. One way or another, he’s going to have to confront his past. I only hope he realizes we’re all doing this for his own good.
We walk on in silence for some time. Once or twice I look back, but it appears that Caspar and Benedict have decided not to follow us. That’s probably a good idea. Eventually, Nick begins throwing tentative glances my way, probably trying to gauge my mood. I wish I could stay angry with him, but it’s hard. I just want him to be happy. And us to be happy.
Suddenly, the trees in front of us open up, revealing an overgrown meadow. Tall grasses studded with wildflowers stretch down to the lake shore on one side and more trees on the other, and in the middle of it all is a huge, crumbling stone ruin.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when Nick said “ruins,” but this is far bigger and more impressive than the vague image I had in my mind. Whatever structure stood here was clearly once magnificent—I see the remains of at least two towers and several ornate arched doorways. Smaller ruins are scattered throughout the field—the remains of outhouses, sheds, and the like.
“Was this a castle or something?” I ask him, drawn forward.
“Something like that. It’s probably as old as Montovia itself.”
It’s hard to imagine that, even though the evidence is right in front of me. Nature has long since tried to overtake this building again. Vines and moss cling to the stones, and in several places grasses and flowers grow right from the tops of walls. I even think I see a sapling growing in the remains of a window on the side near the lake. No wonder Nick and his brothers and cousins used to play here as children—it’s the most magical place I’ve ever seen. It speaks right to the imagination.
Forgetting that I was just mad at him, I find myself grabbing Nick’s hand.
“Well?” I say. “Are you going to show me around or do I have to go exploring by myself?”
He looks surprised by my change in mood, but then a smile creeps onto his face.
“I’d be happy to show you around,” he says, squeezing my hand in return. He pulls me through the field toward the ruins. “Where to first—the armory or the dungeon?”
“There’s a dungeon?” I ask.
“Well, not an actual dungeon,” he admits. “But there’s a place that we all used to call the ‘dungeon’ when we were playing our games. I suspect any actual dungeon is buried under several centuries’ worth of stones.”
I let him lead me around the crumbling castle, listening intently as he points out the various places of importance. One chamber—its ceiling open to the sky—was considered their “fort” because it was, as Nick puts it, “easily defensible from all sides.” He points out the places he used to hide during hide and seek, as well as the archway they’d convinced themselves led to another dimension because once Caspar had seen a rabbit hop through and then disappear on the far side. Finally, he leads me through a low archway into a room that still has its ceiling intact. The only light comes from the sunlight shining through the doorway and creeping in through a crack between stones on the far wall.
“This was our treasury,” he tells me. “It’s where we kept all of our treasures.”
“Like what?” I ask, smiling. What sort of things would a prince consider treasure?
“Lots of things,” he says. There’s a boyish gleam in his eyes as he turns, studying the room. “There are lots of little nooks and crannies where we used to hide things. Under loose stones and all that. I wonder…” His eyes have fallen on one of the darker corners, and I follow his gaze. There’s a shape there, but I can’t make out what it is in the shadows.
Nick strides forward, and I follow. Up close, I can see that the dark shape is the remains of a small statue—probably only a couple of feet tall—and mostly worn away by the elements. I think it might once have looked like a person. Nick grabs the statue by the shoulders and pulls it to the side with a small grunt. It probably took two or three of them to move that thing when they were boys.
He crouches down in the dirt, running his fingers over the dirt beneath where the statue had stood. Without a word, he reaches over and picks up a flattish stone only slightly bigger than his hand and begins digging at the same spot. I crouch down next to him, watching with interest.
After only a few minutes, his stone hits something hard. He begins to work faster, and as he digs the dirt aside, his eyes brighten.
“I don’t believe it,” he says, more to himself than to me. “It’s still here.”
Nicholas
This was my favorite place to come as a boy, and I can’t believe I’d already begun to forget. I spent thousands of hours here, planning attacks and burying treasure.
This little corner was my spot—we each had our own, of course. William liked the tower to the north—there were still a few stairs intact where he could climb and see my cousins’ areas.
But this spot was all mine. I remember I could barely drag the statue away by myself, but there was no way I was going to let anyone near the treasures I kept buried here.
I open the small metal box, not even as large as my palm. I can’t help but smile when I see everything is exactly as I left it—and I’d almost forgotten the treasures I’d hidden inside it.
“What is it?” Clara comes to sit beside me, peering over my arm.
I startle a bit at the sound of her voice—I’d nearly forgotten she was here. “It’s nothing.” I shake my head, snapping the box closed.
“Well, it’s obviously not nothing…” Clara looks up at me.
“It’s just…nothing. The treasures of boyhood.” I stand, shoving the small box into my pocket before I brush the dirt from my pants. “Come, I’ll show you where we used to plan our battles.”
She gives me a weak smile as we make our way around the ruins. And I can’t help but feel transported, somehow, to a time when things weren’t quite as serious. When my life didn’t feel quite so grave.
Clara slips her hand into mine, smiling up at me. “It’s nice to see you like this.”
“Like what?”
Her smile widens. “Like you must have been when you were younger. Before you took the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s nice.”
I release a long breath. �
�I know quite well that I don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders, Clara. My father…my eldest brother—they both have quite a lot more responsibility than I ever will.”
“I guess I don’t get it, then.” She sits on the edge of what was probably once a garden wall. “Why you take everything so seriously.”
I sit beside her, looking out over the forest below. I’m not sure how to explain anything to her—it isn’t as though I understand much myself.
But she continues before I can put my thoughts into words. “Part of it is your personality—I get that. Some people are more serious than others. But you…something happened, didn’t it? I mean, I’d get the whole brooding thing if you…” She frowns. “Never mind.”
I glance over at her. “If I was my eldest brother?” I look back out over the forest below. “You aren’t wrong. It’s true I have very few responsibilities.”
“What happened, Nick?” Clara almost sounds as though she’s pleading with me. “What happened that made you so…sad?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean—”
“I think you know exactly what I mean.” I can hear the exasperation in her voice. “What happened? You have everything. This life… I mean, I know it isn’t everything. I had a great life, too. I walked away from it. But you…”
“But me what, Clara?” I turn to face her again. There’s no way to explain anything to her—no way she could possibly understand. And I don’t want to share any of those details with her. Why won’t she see reason? The past matters very little. And I’ve moved on—I built a new life for myself, far away from Montovia, and I’d never planned to return.
“I guess…I guess I shouldn’t assume anything. But you have a pretty great life. I mean…” She spreads her arms wide. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but look around you. You can have this any time you want. And it all belongs to you—”
“None of it belongs to me, Clara. It belongs to my family—”
“I know, I know. But it’s the same thing, isn’t it?” The exasperation returns to her voice. “Why do we have to talk about the same thing over and over? Why don’t you get it?”
“Why don’t you get it?” I shake my head. “The ruins belong to the country, which means they technically belong to my father. They pass to Andrew after that, his daughter after that. It’s not…mine. It never will be.”
“But it isn’t like you have to ask permission. It’s your family’s—it’s understood—”
“Tell me, Clara. Does your family own any land? Property? A boat, perhaps?”
“I…” Her brow furrows. “My dad has a boat. We used to take it out on weekends—”
“Is the boat yours, then? You can use it whenever and however you want?”
Her shoulders drop, and her eyelids flutter for a moment. “Okay, I see your point. But it’s not like my dad wouldn’t let me use it if I asked—”
“But you would have to ask. Just as I had to ask to come here—”
“Technically, they asked you to come, though, didn’t they?” She smiles, but I can see she is beginning to understand. “I think I get it.”
“Good.” I fish in my pocket for the small box, pulling it out. “There are very few things in my life that have been mine, and mine alone.” My gut twists, thinking about the woman who lives with her new husband not far from here. I had thought she was mine at one time—and mine alone. But she wasn’t.
Part of me is still angry, and I can admit that. I know I need to let it go to move past it, but I’m not sure how. The only thing I’m certain of is that I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I have to make Clara mine before it’s too late.
Clara slips her hand into mine, craning her neck to see what it is I hold in my other hand. “Are you going to show me?”
I nod, slipping my hand away from hers as I flip the box open. I say nothing as I show her the small trinkets inside—a perfectly flat, smooth stone, a small twig that I whittled into a tiny spear. But there’s one true treasure in there, and I pull it out, opening my palm to her to show her.
“Nick…” Her voice is breathless, almost a whisper. She fingers the item, and I take it, holding it up for her to see it.
“It’s bone, I think. Perhaps ivory.” I peer at the ring I hold between my two fingers. “It’s quite old—I found it among the ruins long ago. I never showed any of them—I kept it hidden in this box for all these years.”
“It’s…beautiful.” Clara’s eyes shine as she looks up at me. “Just…exquisite.”
“It’s yours.” I take her hand in mine, sliding it onto her finger. “I know I didn’t do this right the first time, Clara. But I fully intended it as soon as I realized I love you.” I look into her eyes. “Because I do. I love you.”
“Nick…” Her mouth falls open. “I—”
“Marry me, Clara Weaver.”
“Oh, Nick…” Her eyes begin to shine before she gives me a small shake of her head. She slides the ring off her finger and places it back in my hand. She frowns at me, a single tear falling down her cheek before she speaks again.
“No.”
Royal Escape #5
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 © 2018 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: August, 2018
Clara
Nick looks at me as if I’ve just torn his world apart. And I guess I have. But what did he expect, proposing to me for real?! This was the last thing I thought would happen, especially after the last couple of days.
I stumble to my feet. “I love you, Nick. You know that.”
He doesn’t say a word as he staggers to his feet beside me.
“This doesn’t mean I might not want to marry you someday,” I insist.
His face is hard. “Exactly how many times do you expect a man to propose to you, Clara? Or do you prefer I beg you? That didn’t work so well with Adam.”
“That’s not fair,” I tell him. “Adam and I were…” I shake my head. I’m not going down that rabbit hole, not right now. “We’ve only known each other a couple of months, Nick. I’ve only known that you’re a prince for about a week. I’m still processing this whole royal thing. But even disregarding that, how can I accept the marriage proposal of someone who’s obviously still hung up on his ex?”
Anger flashes in his eyes. “I’m not hung up on anyone!”
“Do you really believe that, Nick? You won’t even say her name in front of me. You blow up when your cousins take us within sight of her house. What am I supposed to think? You won’t even tell me who she is!”
“I think I’ve had quite enough of this,” Nick says, striding away across the grass.
I start to follow, then stop. What’s the point? The damage has been done. I’ve refused his offer, and he’s too stubborn to understand why. There are tears on my cheeks, and I wipe them away in frustration.
Stupid man! I think at his retreating back. Stupid, idiotic man! Can’t you see you’re causing your own pain? And mine? I want to scream at him. I want to shake him until he sees the truth. I don’t pretend to be an expert on relationships—my experience with Adam is proof enough that I’m not—but Nick’s issues are obvious from a mile away.
And I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll ever face them.
There’s a knot of pain in my stomach. My heart nearly fluttered right out of my chest when he wanted to put that ring on my finger. I want to be with him. I haven’t even begun to fathom what a life with him might mean, but I know I want him. I know I love him.
But I’m done
with relationships built on imagined foundations. I want something real. And Nick isn’t offering that.
My eyes begin to burn again, and I turn away from the direction he’s gone. I need to stop torturing myself. I need to be away from him for a while.
This clearing is lined with trees, and I move toward them, just wanting to put as much distance between Nick and me as possible. The sun is high in the sky—it must be nearly noon—and the birds twitter overhead as if there are no cares in the world. They have no idea.
I march through the woods, trying to fight back the tears that still pool in my eyes. Trying to convince myself that I’m not as stubborn and idiotic as Nick. Trying to pretend this will all magically work out somehow.
I’m not sure how long I walk before the tears dry up. The lake disappeared from sight long ago. The trees are all starting to look the same. But I keep going. If nothing else, the exercise is helping clear my head. And being among the trees is peaceful, in its way. It’s funny, but a year ago I would have said I hated the outdoors. When I lived in New York, I could never understand the people who claimed they hiked or camped for fun. But after my time in Montana, things have changed. Now I appreciate the fresh air and the sounds of nature.
Finally, when my feet start to ache, I find a big rock and sit down.
Who is she? I find myself wondering. Will I ever get the chance to meet the woman who did this to Nick? Will I ever get the chance to understand? I’m sick with curiosity.
The masked ball might be that opportunity—assuming Nick and I are still speaking then. If he leaves again, then I see no reason to stay here anymore. I’ve given him plenty of chances to tell me the truth. If he runs away, then I have my answer, as painful as that is to admit.
My eyes start to burn again, so I squeeze them shut tight until the feeling goes away. Don’t do this to yourself, Clara. Don’t torture yourself needlessly.