by Peak, Renna
She grins up at me. “This is going to be amazing. You’ll see.”
I can hardly deny her the opportunity for a little fun, no matter how juvenile. “I assume you’re planning to wrap something? A toilet seat, perhaps?”
She lifts a brow, still grinning. “You’ve heard of plastic wrap pranks, have you?”
“I grew up in a palace. Not a cave.”
She tugs at my hand, pulling me more quickly toward the kitchen. “You’re thinking small, though.”
“Small?” I can barely keep up with her as we make our way to the pantry area.
Clara glances around us again before we go in, giggling softly.
The area is bustling with staff preparing food, and the workers come in and out of the area without paying much attention to us at all. One woman looks over at me, cocking her head, but says nothing. Perhaps it isn’t so out of the ordinary to have us here, though I’m not about to go out of my way to call attention to myself.
Clara walks into one of the closets while I stand guard at the door, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She finally comes out with what she was after—a large, industrial-size roll of plastic wrap.
“It’s brand new!” She’s almost squealing, the joy in her voice is obvious. “And look at how huge it is!”
I can merely shake my head. We leave the kitchen quickly, before anyone has a chance to question why we were there and head back into the corridor.
Her eyes are bright. “Who should we do first? I’m thinking Caspar.” She nods to herself. “He wants you to think he’s not the mastermind of the pranks, but he totally is.”
“Oh, he definitely is,” I agree. “Though, Xavier is quite adept at planning pranks himself.”
She chews on her lip for a moment, her smile widening. “Benedict it is.”
I chuckle to myself as I follow her toward my cousin’s room.
We spend the next half-hour wrapping not only the toilet in plastic, but placing a thin layer of the stuff over every personal item my cousin owns—the opening of his shampoo, his deodorant, his toothpaste. Anything that might be squeezed or poured gets a single layer of plastic wrap over the top of it. And of course, the next time he tries to use the toilet, he’ll receive an unwelcome surprise.
“Now, if we want to be really mean—”
“You don’t think this is enough?” I smile down at Clara. “We’re already asking for retaliation—”
“That’s the beauty of practical jokes, isn’t it?” She laughs. “I can’t wait to see what they come up with to top this.”
I sigh, pulling her hand into mine. “Unfortunately, I’m certain it will involve spiders. Or perhaps some other creature.”
She stops just inside the door, turning to me and pulling me into an embrace. “Thank you,” she says, pressing her cheek to my chest. “This was exactly what I needed.”
I kiss the top of her head, not really understanding why she needed this at all.
“I know you think I’m crazy.” She pulls away just enough to look up into my eyes. “That seems to be the going theme.”
“I don’t…” I frown down at her, finally understanding what she’s speaking of. “I don’t believe you’re crazy, Clara. Or mentally ill, or whatever else it is that man tried to convince you of.”
“It isn’t just him.” She pulls out of my arms, taking my hand in hers again as we start back down the hall. She shifts the large roll of plastic wrap in her arms. “My family thinks so, too. I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe I am.” She looks up at me, her eyes watery. “I still don’t really know what happened in New York. One day I was fine, the next…” She shakes her head. “I understand why they think I went nuts.”
“What others think is of little importance.” I lead her back toward my suite as it’s much closer than hers.
“Says the man who only thinks about what others think of him.” She lets out a long sigh.
“My family also thought I went a bit…nuts when I moved to Montana.” I shrug. “They got over it, obviously.”
“Because you came home.” She looks over her shoulder at the door of my suite. “I don’t think…I don’t think I can ever go home, Nick.”
I reach around her to open the door, pulling her inside so that we might have our conversation in private. “You don’t have to. Not now.”
“But I don’t know what I want. The only thing I’m really, really sure about—”
I press my lips against hers, interrupting her, but she pulls away after a moment. She smiles up at me. “I was going to say, the only thing I’m sure about is being with you.”
“And that’s all we need to be certain of, Clara. We don’t need to make decisions about any of the rest of it today. And truly…” I wrap my arms around her waist, and she tosses the plastic wrap to the floor. “The only thing I’m sure about at the moment, is being here with you. Isn’t that enough?”
Her eyes turn immediately watery again, though her smile never falls. She nods, looking up into my eyes. “So much more than enough.”
Clara
In Nick’s arms, all my troubles seem to disappear. It’s funny—only a few days ago I thought this relationship was too complicated, that there was too much baggage for it to ever work. Now it feels so simple, so easy. All I had to do was let go and trust.
The next couple of days are relatively peaceful for Wintervale—apparently, the announcement that so many members of Nick’s family will be attending the ball has appeased Lord Frederick for now. And the knowledge that Adam is on the loose has given the whole manor something to bond over, in a way. Everyone is vigilant, waiting for our common enemy to leap out of the shadows. The local police have been scouring the countryside looking for him, but so far there’s been no trace. By the end of the second day, I’m starting to hope that Adam finally saw some sense and escaped back to the States. But Nick still won’t let me go outside—even with him—so I’m forced to find other ways to entertain myself.
Fortunately, the prank war is in full swing.
To say Benedict was pissed when he discovered the plastic wrap all over his bathroom would be the understatement of the year. He retaliated by putting honey in all of Nick’s shoes. And then someone—Caspar, we suspect, but there was no outright confession—let a jar of crickets loose in Nick’s suite, and their chirping kept us up most of the night until we called it a loss and retreated to my suite instead. The next day, we got him back by adding a few drops of food coloring to his shampoo. He still has bits of blue on his scalp.
By the time the third day rolls around, all of us are eyeing each other suspiciously, not trusting a word that comes out of anyone else’s mouth. But I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun—and judging by the look in Nick’s eyes, neither can he. Seeing how free he feels when he allows himself to let loose has been one of the greatest joys.
Unfortunately, things can’t go on forever. On that third afternoon after the prank war launched into full swing, Nick’s family arrives.
The first indication of their arrival is that suddenly all the servants seem to be running around frantically. Nick and I are walking down the hallway, planning our next attack, when two different servants go sprinting by. When they notice Nick, they pause just long enough to bow before hurrying on their way again.
Around the next corner, there are half a dozen other uniformed men and women running as if their lives depend on it. Nick understands what’s going on before I do.
“My family must be close,” he tells me. “Let’s go outside and greet them.”
Even though this isn’t my first introduction to Nick’s family, it will be the first time I’ve seen them since Nick and I got officially engaged. I find myself nervously rubbing the ivory ring on my finger as I hurry next to him down the hallway.
“Should I change?” I ask, looking down at my dress. It’s one of the ones Sophia loaned me, and though it’s nicer than most of my own clothing, I’m not sure if it’s nice enough to greet a royal fam
ily. My future in-laws.
“You look wonderful,” Nick assures me. “And trust me—my family doesn’t expect you to dress up for them.”
Easy for him to say. He knows what he’s doing when it comes to royals. I, on the other hand, have proven more than once that I’m just as likely to put my foot in my mouth as I am to make a good impression. And there’s so much more resting on this than there was before.
Either way, though, there doesn’t appear to be time to change, even if I wanted to. By the time Nick and I emerge outside, a long line of dark cars is already approaching down the winding driveway. Lord Frederick, Lady Helena, and Nick’s three cousins are already standing on the stairs, waiting to give the official greeting.
I allow myself one moment to appreciate the feeling of the sun on my skin—who knew I’d miss it so much after only three days cooped up inside?—before turning my attention to the approaching motorcade.
There are at least a dozen vehicles, all black with tinted windows, and most with small Montovian flags poking up from either side of the hood. Dark SUVs flank either end of the procession—I suspect they belong to the royal security team—but the rest of the vehicles are either luxury sedans or limousines.
“Wow, your family knows how to make quite an entrance, don’t they?” I say quietly to Nick.
“They have a healthy respect for tradition,” he replies. He no longer looks as lighthearted and happy as he did this morning, but he doesn’t look worried yet, either. Just serious again.
I hook my arm through his and wait for the cars to approach, trying to pretend I’m not as nervous as I feel. I’ve faced down narcissistic CEOs in boardrooms. I know how to look confident even when I feel intimidated. Besides—from what I remember, Nick’s family isn’t any worse than Lord Frederick. And some of them—Sophia in particular—are actually quite nice and friendly.
Still, I find myself holding my breath when the cars finally roll to a stop. The people in the SUVs hop out first, looking all serious and important in their dark uniforms, and members of Wintervale Manor’s staff hurry to the doors of the other vehicles, ready to open doors and begin moving luggage.
But then everyone pauses as if waiting for something. Everyone, at least, except for those at the final limousine in the line. I notice now that it has twice as many Montovian flags on display, and that the front grill of the car features a gleaming metal rendition of the country’s official seal.
A man in full tails opens the limousine door, then reaches down to help the passengers from the car.
Queen Penelope emerges first, looking as beautiful and stately as I remember. Even from here, I can see the way she smiles at Nick. A moment later, she turns a friendly look toward Lord Frederick and his family, who are already moving slowly down the steps.
Nick squeezes my arm, and then we move, too, and all the while my eyes remain locked on that limousine.
Queen Penelope moves aside, and King Edmund steps out next, his face far more serious than his wife’s. While Penelope seems delighted to be here, King Edmund’s expression suggests he finds this whole affair to be a giant chore—if not an outright insult. I can’t judge him too harshly for that, though. From what I’ve heard, he’s been dealing with health issues for a while, and it’s not like Lord Frederick’s invitation was given on friendly terms. It was more of a threat than an invitation.
Now that the king and queen have alighted from their limo, the other car doors are opened. At least three of Nick’s siblings are here, their spouses in tow, plus enough officials and servants to run Wintervale Manor all on their own. Within moments, servants are ferrying luggage inside in a well-choreographed routine. Meanwhile, the rest of us have reached the bottom of the steps.
The entire royal family waits in silence as King Edmund steps forward, his wife smiling on his arm. Lord Frederick moves toward him, giving what appears to be a respectful bow.
“Your Majesties,” Lord Frederick says from his bow. When he rises, he continues, “My dearest royal cousins, you honor us with your presence.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Queen Penelope answers. “It has been too long, I think.”
King Edmund doesn’t look like he agrees with his wife, though. If anything, he seems to get angrier the longer he looks at Lord Frederick. But he finally manages a stiff nod.
The air is practically crackling with tension. And I know everyone can feel it. To our right, Caspar shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and across the circle, I notice Sophia exchange a look with Pax. This is going to be a long, awkward visit for everyone involved, ball or no ball.
King Edmund frowns at his cousin for a moment longer, then looks past him at the rest of the family. His face softens slightly as he takes in Lady Helena and the three sons, but he still doesn’t look happy to be here.
And then his gaze lands on Nick.
That seems to be a cue. Nick steps forward, pulling me with him.
“Father, Mother,” he says in greeting.
Queen Penelope steps forward, embracing her son, and Nick releases me to return the gesture. After she releases him, Nick and his father exchange nods, and even though the king still looks stiff and somewhat angry, I swear I spot at least a little affection in his eyes. Still, he’s kind of terrifying. And I know I need to be on my best behavior in front of him.
Unfortunately, we don’t get off to a great start. The queen turns to me, reaching her hands out in a greeting, and when I reach toward her, she suddenly makes a little gasp and grabs my fingers.
“What’s this?” she asks, her eyes on the little ivory ring. The question isn’t for me—she looks up sharply at Nick.
Who suddenly looks rather uncomfortable.
He clears his throat. “It’s one of the many things I wanted to discuss with you while you were here, Mother. I thought it was appropriate to—”
“What’s going on?” demands King Edmund, stepping forward. His eyes flick down to the ring, then accusatorially up at Nick. “What is this?”
Nick pulls my hand away from his mother and raises his chin. “Father, Mother, Clara and I are engaged.”
Nicholas
Neither of my parents moves a muscle—it’s almost as though they are frozen in place. The smile doesn’t fall from my mother’s lips, but I can almost see the light in her eyes dim as though someone is turning a switch.
“How…wonderful,” she says, though it certainly doesn’t sound as though she’s pleased.
“We’ll discuss this later,” my father says through his clenched jaw. He turns his attention back to his cousin. “Frederick. You were so insistent upon us coming here. The least you can do is show us to our room.”
“Of course, of course,” Lord Frederick replies before making a sweeping motion with his arm. “Right this way.”
And with that, my parents are ushered inside Wintervale Manor. As soon as they’ve entered, my sister and her husband rush toward us.
Sophia takes Clara’s hand into hers, studying her ring. “Is this the ring you found in the ruins when we were children?” She looks up at me.
I nod and she turns her attention back to Clara. “It’s lovely.” Her smile widens “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I say. Nothing would please me more than having the approval of my sister.
Sophia cocks her head, still grinning. “How long have you two known each other now?”
Pax lifts a brow, looking between Sophia, Clara, and me. He smirks, but he says nothing.
Clara grabs my hand, giving them both a conciliatory—almost royal—smile. “You probably had a long trip. We—”
She’s interrupted by Lady Helena coming over to greet the pair. “Princess Sophia.” She dips into an appropriate curtsey. “How lovely to see you again.”
My sister does her own version of a curtsy. “Likewise, I’m sure.”
“Someone will be happy to show you to your suite if you’ll come this way.” She motions with her arm toward the door.
Sophia
glances over her shoulder. “Have Leopold and Andrew already gone in?”
Lady Helena gives her a small smile, glancing over at me for the briefest of moments before turning back to Sophia. “Your brothers and their families were shown inside a few moments ago.”
“I’ll come find you in a bit.” Sophia takes her husband’s hand before turning to go into the manor. She turns and gives me an odd look before going inside.
“What did I do?” Clara pulls my hand into hers. “That was…weird.”
I blink at the doors for a few moments, watching the servants carry in the many pieces of luggage my family has brought for their short stay.
Finally, I turn to her. “I’m certain you’ve done nothing. I, on the other hand, have likely made some sort of mistake. Not sharing the details of our engagement with my mother and father is likely the problem.”
“No…” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe it’s just me, but it seemed like they were being weird before that. Weirder than usual, anyway.” She seems to realize what she’s said, and her face goes a bit pale. “What I meant was—”
“I know what you meant.” I force a small smile. “If you were hoping my family might ever be…normal, I’m afraid you’re going to be sadly disappointed.”
“I’m not marrying your family.” She lifts herself onto her tiptoes, placing a peck on my cheek. “I’m marrying you.”
“Unfortunately for you, you’re also marrying my family whether you want to or not.”
“Well…” There’s a gleam of something almost playful in her eyes. “Not if we move back to Montana. Things have probably settled down enough there by now, right?”
“You want to put your poor horses through the ordeal of another cross-ocean journey?” I cock my head. “When they’ve just arrived?”
“Well, we can’t stay here forever, right?” Her smile falls a bit. “How long were you planning to stay? I mean, I know we have to stay until after the ball and everything. But now that your father is here, he can deal with the whole secession thing. You don’t really have to worry about it anymore.”