“Excuse us,” Drake said as he pushed past them. “She’s not feeling well.”
Inside the palace, they made their way to a side bathroom and locked the door. Renna gasped at the dark line across her skin.
“It’s not that bad.” Drake laughed.
“Not that bad? It’s humiliating!” She grabbed a towel and started scrubbing.
Drake laughed harder as the black substance spread all over her skin with each scrub.
Who else in the world would lean against a gate and get grease all over their forehead? Only me, Renna thought. It was an incredibly Renna thing to do.
“Stop laughing,” she pleaded.”It’s not funny.” She hit him with her towel but was already starting to laugh herself. “What is this stuff? It’s not coming off!”
“Leave it. It looks good.” He shrugged his shoulders like he was trying to convince himself.
“Grease marks look good?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was just trying to be nice.”
Renna hit him with the towel again.
“Here, let me help.” He dipped the corner of the towel in some water and then added soap and handed it back to her.
It took several rounds of scrubbing, but eventually, the grease was gone.
“There. Everything’s perfect again,” Drake said, inspecting her face.
Renna looked back at him. “Why are you being so nice to me? I thought you hated me too.”
His brows bent together. “Why would you think that?”
“You’ve been avoiding me ever since the first night I arrived, and whenever Trev is by me, you look like you want to punch some sense into him.”
“Am I that obvious?” He grimaced.
“Yes,” she said. She leaned her back against the door and slid to the ground letting out a deep breath.
Drake sat down on the floor across from her, stretching his legs out next to hers.
“You really like Trev, don’t you?”
She should lie to him again, tell him that he was wrong, but somewhere deep inside, the answer begged to be let out.
“I like him a lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone in my whole life. And it’s not because he’s the prince. He constantly makes me laugh. He’s not afraid to be silly just to make me smile, and in case you were wondering, I can’t wipe the smile off my face when I’m with him. But it’s more than just a good time. He’s my friend. He’s thoughtful. He actually tries to get to know me—to find out the things that make up who I am. I can’t explain it. How do you explain—”
“Love?” Drake said knowingly.
Her face dropped into her hands partly from embarrassment and partly from agony. “I hate this. I hate acting like Trev’s relationship with Seran isn’t killing me when it is. I hate that I can’t touch him or look at him or openly laugh at things he says. I hate that I can’t be with him all the time,” she dropped her voice, “because I want to be with him all the time.” Her complete honesty left her feeling bare and exposed. “I shouldn’t have told you all of that.” Her head shook furiously. “I’m mortified I told you all of that.”
“I’m glad you did.” Drake’s eyes were kind, easing her embarrassment. “The thing is, I want Trev to be the king of Albion for a lot of reasons—some of them honorable and some of them selfish. If my best friend becomes king, he will appoint me as commander of the Albion army, which I am more than qualified for. If Joniss becomes king, my future is uncertain. But the truth is, Trev would be an amazing king. The kind of king that inspires people to band together and be united in a great purpose. The kind of king who puts his people first and fights for them.”
“And you think I stand in the way of him being elected king?”
“Yes,” Drake sighed.
Renna’s stomach dropped and she had to look away.
“I want him to be king, but I also want him to be happy, and if he loses you, I don’t think he will ever truly be happy again.” Drake paused, then added, “Maybe you should tell him how you feel so he has a choice.”
“No! I couldn’t do that to Seran. Besides, he told me the first day I met him that he doesn’t believe in a one and only true love.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t even believe in love.”
Drake shook his head. “What else would you say if you had known since childhood that you would have to marry a stranger someday? Sometimes it’s easier to pretend that love doesn’t exist than to acknowledge that it does exist, but you aren’t permitted to experience it.”
Renna thought about the truth that might be lingering in his words.
“Tell him how you feel,” Drake urged.
“What will he do?” She didn’t want to end up even more hurt than she already was.
“He’ll either choose you and lose everything or, if he’s the man and leader that I think he is, he’ll figure out a way to have you and still be elected king.”
“What about King Carver?”
“He’ll hate you even more than he does now. There will be no chance for reconciliation with him.”
Renna took a deep breath.
Drake made it sound so simple. Tell Trev how she felt, and trust he would figure out a way to be with her and not ruin his life or the future of Albion. But what about her mother and Seran? Could Trev figure out a way that wouldn’t destroy their lives in the process?
Outside, the sound of fireworks snapped and popped more furiously.
“You know, I’ve never been in a bathroom with a man before.” She looked at the golden swirled tile beneath them.
“That’s probably a good thing.” Drake furrowed his brow.
“Probably.” She smiled.
He rubbed the smooth surface of the ornate tile with his fingers. “I’ve never sat on a bathroom floor before.”
“Really? I do it all the time,” she confessed, not ashamed of how weird it sounded.
“All the time?” he clarified.
“Not all the time, but . . . sometimes it’s the best place to be alone.” Her eyes wandered as she recalled the times the bathroom floor had comforted her in her life, especially after her father had died. Some nights she had escaped to the downstairs bathroom so she could cry as loud as she wanted without waking her mother. Shaking herself out of her memories with a self-conscious laugh, Renna continued, “No one bothers you when you’re in the bathroom.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ll have to remember that the next time I’m trying to avoid Trev.”
She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. “You’re welcome.”
The sound of fireworks faded into cheers.
“The show must be over.” She stood, straightening her dress. “I better let you get back out there.”
“Renna,” his call stopped her, “I hope it all works out for you guys.”
She hoped so too, but she didn’t dare say it out loud. Not yet.
31
Trev
His father’s office was empty, but the king would be there any minute. His father always stopped by his office before retiring to his room for the night. Trev walked the edges anxiously. How was he going to handle his father? What would he say to convince him that being with Renna wouldn’t ruin his chances of being elected king?
What if he couldn’t convince him? Was he prepared to go against his father? He had always been a loyal son—a loyal subject of Albion—adhering to what was right. But none of this felt right.
His fingers grazed the back of his father’s brown leather chair. Trev could smell the richness of the leather from where he stood behind his father’s desk. He’d always thought this chair would be his someday.
This mantle.
This responsibility.
Being the future king had governed his every move as far back as he could remember. He sat down in his father’s chair and tried to picture himself as the leader of Albion. The thought was overwhelming, but the rightness of it sank deep into his soul. Could loving Renna really take all of that away from him?
Trev d
idn’t want to see it. He refused to consider it, but in the farthest corners of his mind, his father’s words gnawed at him. He picked up a stack of papers on the desk in front of him. His thumb flipped through a few of the pages until one paper in particular stopped him.
One word.
Confidential.
Wildly, his eyes scanned the document. He couldn’t read it fast enough. Details, dates, and times of the assassination plot against King Adler were described throughout. The words pelted his mind one by one as if he was caught in a massive hailstorm. No wonder his father hadn’t fought back during the high ruler’s meeting. He was going to go ahead with the assassination without their approval.
Secretly.
“The answer is no.” King Carver breezed through the door, heading straight for the side table where his liquor was stored. “You will not marry that girl. Did you see her tonight at dinner? She can’t answer a simple question, and don’t even get me started on the spectacle she made of herself during the fireworks.”
“What’s this?” Trev held the paper up for his father to see.
His father paused, staring at the paper only for a moment before continuing to pour his drink.
“You can’t do this.” He could only hope his father could see reason. “The high rulers voted. The assassination plan was never supposed to happen.”
His father casually took a seat by the fireplace. The sound of leather squished beneath him as he sat. “I’m the king. I have the final say.”
“That’s not how this works, and you know it. You need the high rulers’ permission to take any action against a foreign nation.”
“What are they going to do, depose me? My service is over in two months anyway.”
“But Father, this is more than just an overreach of power. This is corrupt and brutal! The Council of Essentials will arrest you for instigating violence against a fellow nation. You’ll get the death sentence and I will lose the election because of my connection to you.”
“No one will find out! Tolsten will believe that their own insurgents committed the killing. And in the chaos of the power vacuum it creates, no one will have time to investigate.”
Trev waved the paper through the air. “How can you say no one will find out? You’ve left a paper trail just sitting on top of your desk. I found it within one minute of entering your office.”
The king rolled his eyes. “No one is allowed in here except you and Gaines.”
“This is suicidal, and I won’t let you do this.”
“And how are you going to stop me? I’m afraid we can’t go back on our plans now. The pieces are already in place.” His father spoke in mock disappointment.
“I’ll expose you and your plan to everyone,” Trev threatened, waving his finger accusingly at the king.
“I’ll tell everyone you knew about it too. If I go down, you go down with me.”
“You would never do that,” Trev argued. “You want me elected king.”
His father sighed. “The order has already been given. Men have already left to carry it out. I’m the only one who can stop it now.”
“Then I demand you stop it!” Trev stood, thrusting his hands on the desk in front of him.
“You demand I stop it?” His father’s devilish smile had returned. “And what will you do for me in return?”
“What do you want?” Trev straightened his back.
A small smirk formed on his father’s lips. “I want you to marry Princess Seran. I hate Tolsten and King Adler, but I can put those feelings aside as long as you are elected king. That princess is your ticket to winning the election.”
The marriage was the only thing Trev could bargain with, and his father knew it. It was the only thing that could stop the assassination and the unimaginable consequences of what it would bring.
“I want the assassination of King Adler called off,” Trev said, his voice full of determination.
“I wish everyone could see the value in my plan. Killing Adler would open up an enormous amount of power for us, but if you’re king, we can revisit this topic again later.”
As if Trev would ever consider killing King Adler.
“It would set the standard that anybody could kill any leader for no reason or wage war on any kingdom for no reason.” How did his father not see this?
“I have my reasons!” Carver’s face turned red with anger.
Trev remained calm. “Your reasons aren’t good enough. No reason is good enough for murder.”
“You’ll never make a good king if you aren’t willing to get your hands dirty. But that’ll be on you. The situation with Tolsten will be on you. As long as you are elected king.” His father swirled the last bits of liquid in his cup. “I’ll stop the assassination. In return, you will marry Princess Seran and stay away from the other girl.”
The other girl. Trev hated how flippant his father was. The moment felt big and final. Once he agreed, he could never go back on his word. Ten years ago, when the alliance was struck with King Bryant, someone else had made the promises. Someone else had chosen for him. But today—at this moment—he was the one making the promise. He was the one making the choice.
He had to do this. There was no other way to stop his father and no other way to end the assassination. He had to protect Albion from the wrath of Tolsten.
Trev swallowed his dreams. “Fine. I’ll marry Seran.”
There it was—his loyalty, his honor, his morality—it had all manifested itself in a single sentence.
His father’s evil eyes glared at him. “I’ll have Commander Pryer send the orders to stop the assassination first thing in the morning,” his father muttered.
Trev walked to the door. “I want to be there. I don’t trust you to do it without me watching.”
32
Renna
Maybe. It was a cruel word that had tortured Renna ever since she’d left Drake alone on the bathroom floor earlier that evening. Maybe kept her hopes alive when they probably shouldn’t be. It was Drake’s fault. His words kept playing over and over in her mind, like a young girl practicing her piano piece for a recital.
You should tell him how you feel . . . he’ll figure out a way to have you and still be elected king.
Was Renna really contemplating having the most vulnerable conversation of her life? Contemplating devastating her mother and Seran? Despite every blockade Renna had put up, she had fallen in love with Trev. It was that realization that had brought her outside of Trev’s office. She loved him, and now she was going to tell him. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Please don’t answer. Please don’t answer.
Crosby opened the door.
“I’m sorry,” Renna said, stunned. “I was looking for Prince Ezra.”
“I believe he has retired to the royal living room.” He spoke in a formal, businesslike way. “May I help you with something?”
“Oh. I suppose it can wait until tomorrow.”
Crosby looked down the hall in both directions, then lowered his voice. “The king is not with him. I believe Prince Ezra is alone.”
She smiled timidly back at him. Did this short, serious man know why Renna had come at such a late hour to the prince’s office? Did he know that she was about to confess her undying love? To say ‘you have my heart, so take it and don’t hurt me’? The thought was enough to carry her feet to the royal living room as she tried to work out the words.
Each heartbeat thudded distinctly against her chest until she saw Trev through the small crack in the door. His curls were pushed back slightly like he had been combing his fingers through his hair all night. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, and somewhere along the line, he had ditched his suit jacket and tie. He looked ridiculously appealing as he leaned against the open balcony door, hands in his pockets.
The palms of her hands pushed against the wooden door, slowly opening it beyond a crack. Everything froze when she saw Seran coming in from the balcony, smiling warmly at Trev. Her slende
r arms wrapped around Trev’s waist, hugging him to her. Renna’s breath caught in the back of her throat. She should leave, but it felt like she was wearing concrete shoes. The ache inside grew as Trev’s hand slowly lifted out of his pocket and tucked Seran’s shiny, black hair behind her ear. His fingers made a trail down the side of her neck—the way they always had with Renna.
“I’m glad you invited me here tonight.” Seran’s voice was impossibly sweet, but it held a sultry undercurrent. Renna had never heard Seran speak that way.
“I’m glad I did too,” Trev said quietly. “You’re my only future.”
His words knocked the air out of Renna in one swoop.
Renna couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t see if his eyes looked at Seran with the same intensity they had when he looked at her. But then his head started to move toward Seran. The final few millimeters between their lips were the longest, most agonizing nanoseconds of Renna’s life. The moment Trev’s lips gently fell onto Seran’s, her heart shattered into a million pieces, ricocheting off every bone inside her, cutting back into the center of her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She literally couldn’t breathe as their lips slowly moved in synchronized motion. Her feet shuffled backward, refusing to let her watch.
She was such a fool, thinking that maybe he loved her too. She would not cry in the hallway of this stupid palace. She would wait until she made it to her bed. She rushed down the hall, her body in autopilot until she reached her room.
Renna shut her bedroom door behind her, leaning her back against it. Thankfully Nora wasn’t there. The room was dark.
“What do you want with my son?”
She jumped with fear, a small scream escaping as she quickly turned toward the voice. Even in the dim light of her room, she could see the intimidating form of the king’s body, leaning against the wall.
“Your Majesty.” She let out a deep breath, flipping on the light. Every alarm went off in her body and the uneasiness in her stomach made her nauseous. What was he doing in her room, waiting for her in the dark?
The Promised Prince: A YA Dystopian Romance Page 22