BABY ROYAL

by Bella Grant

  He flinched and shrunk from them. They giggled, and several of them pointed to the car and called others. Soon, everyone was talking about the prince. Jason couldn’t help but feel self-righteous. He puffed up his chest as the car crawled further along, calling the attention of more children like he was the pied piper for the poor.

  “Get your ass over here!” he heard a voice shout, and a large burly woman emerged and grabbed one of the girls away from the moving car. “Go on. Get out of here,” she told the other children, and they reluctantly dispersed.

  Jason was taken aback. Maybe she didn’t know it was him. He tapped the digital display over his head and the screen lowered. He tapped the one for the window, and it rolled down slowly. He sat upright, his chest forward and eyes sharp, and waited for his salutation. The woman stood with the child held firmly against her, her eyes making contact with his the entire time. The smile he wore plastered over his face slowly stiffened, and his mouth was a slit in his face. She stared at him and scoffed.

  Jason was rattled, more than he thought he would be. He didn’t roll the windows back up, but he noticed all too well the looks from the other people he passed. They went about their business like they had no idea who was in the limo. Only the children chased after him, but they would not be his salvation.

  The driver pulled up to a quaint house set a little way from the cluster of houses he had just passed. It was okay, by his estimation, with a garden to one side at the front, a freshly cut square of a lawn on the other side, and a tiny house met by stone steps that seemed to have only recently been brushed clean.

  He was beginning to think that for more than one reason, this would be a failed attempt when, as he stepped from the car, a woman ran over to him.

  “Can I get those for you?” she asked as she grinned, showing two rows of big, yellowing teeth. She didn’t wait for him to answer. She swooped in and grabbed the bags from the driver. He observed her and didn’t say a word. She cocked her head to the side, and a redhead ran up, all smiles. She helped the other woman take the bags, and they bustled together to the door.

  Jason smiled as he watched them fussing over him. That’s more like it. The elder of the women returned, and she twiddled her thumbs, her smile unfading. “This is Charlotte, my daughter. She’s always wanted to be an astronaut, and I always told her, honey, you can be anything you want to be. When she was younger, she told me she wanted to be a princess when she grew up.” She grinned even broader, as if what she said was some kind of recommendation.

  “Oh,” he responded flatly. He cleared his throat, his confidence and arrogance restored. “We’ll see.”

  The women took those words as encouragement, and as they hurried away, he heard the elder tell the younger how lucky she was they had seen him first. Jason grinned and meandered up the narrow walkway to the door that Rick, his driver, held open for him.

  Inside looked just as he expected—small, stuffy, and not at all to his taste. It smelled freshly scrubbed, and the smell of bleach permeated the room. He stood in what appeared to be the living area, set with a brown, L-shaped sectional, a matching coffee and entrance table, some paintings hung on the wall, a small table in the back with freshly picked flowers, and a low-hanging ceiling fan. His footsteps echoed in the room as he made his way to the kitchen, which had nothing more than a stove and a refrigerator. He opened it and saw that it was empty, and one quick look told him the cupboards were the same. His quick tour ended in the only bedroom—one queen-sized mattress on a slab of wood, and two less than plush pillows. There was a large chest, a worn rug, and a large standing mirror.

  Jason was beside himself with contempt as he stared at his new living quarters. He was all but ready to return to the comforts of his own bed.

  “Where should I put these, sir?” Rick asked as he stood in the doorway with two of the bags.

  “Just…leave them…” Jason began as he tried to find an appropriate place. “Leave them there.” He wasn’t sure he would use the dresser. The thing was old and worn. The thin wood lining the bottom of the drawers was giving in, and he had to push hard on them to get them back into the grooves so they would shut properly.

  He was miserable already, and he cursed his parents under his breath. He saw Rick shifting his weight and looking around uncomfortably like he wanted to say something, or to leave, but didn’t quite know how to get the words out. Jason thought he would spare him the grief. He felt like an idiot when he saw the look on Rick’s face as he entered the house, and right away it was obvious that his temporary home was even worse than Rick’s living quarters.

  “You can go.” Jason sighed heavily. “I will make myself at home.” The sarcasm was dripping off Jason’s tongue as heavy as melted caramel. Was this even worth the crown? What was he doing here?

  Rick nodded, and his feet thudded across the room as he hurried out. The door clicked shut after him. And he was alone. But not for long. A knock sounded at the door.

  “Hmm, here come the greeters,” he muttered and walked to the door. He swung it wide and was met by a barrage of women. They poured into the room like water from a broken dam, and he stepped back before he could get soaked from their downpour.

  “Would you like some help with setting up?” one almost pretty girl asked as she batted her lashes at him.

  “I brought you my famous casserole,” another chimed in and slid in front of the first girl.

  “Oh, no one wants that dreadful thing to eat, Pamela,” yet another called and shoved that girl aside. “I brought pudding.”

  Pamela rolled her huge brown eyes. “Great. Now he will die like your husband. We all know you killed him with your cooking.”

  There were a few giggles from some of the others as Pamela stepped forward again with her casserole. “Don’t pay them any mind, Prince Jason. I bet you are hungry. Come on!”

  Jason was a bit amused by them, and a little annoyed as well. He was especially intolerant of their not paying him the requisite tribute as a prince. “Is this how you treat your prince? All this quarreling, no bowing, no respect?” he asked. He wasn’t really used to any of that, but he wanted to see how well they would serve him.

  “Oh, sorry,” a few of them replied and proceeded to curtsy.

  He almost choked on his laughter. “That’s better,” he replied with a smile.

  His laugh apparently only made them more raucous and the squabbling resumed. “Prince Jason, I know my daughter will make you happy,” a woman said and grabbed the hand of a girl who was hiding in the back.

  “Ma, I don’t think he—”

  “Shush, child, what do you know?” the woman scolded and yanked her forward. “My Emma is a little shy.”

  “Emma?” Jason asked, remembering the name from the ones Ellie had mentioned. She wasn’t beautiful, but she had an even disposition. She was small in stature, and her skin was pale and dry. Her hair was braided and caught in a bun at her nape, and her head was down the entire time her mother spoke.

  “Yes,” she mumbled without looking up.

  “Hold up your head, child,” her mother said and grabbed her by the chin.

  When she looked at him, he saw her glossy, frightened eyes. He was almost sorry for her. Almost. These people wanted him in the village. He didn’t want to be, and if they wanted to marry him, they would have to work for it.

  “I think I’m prettier,” a girl sang in his ear.

  He turned and saw a dark-haired girl. She had pale skin and red, chapped lips. If she had smoother skin and fuller lips, she would have been beautiful. Jason’s head kept turning this way and that as each woman tried to campaign for his affection. But he wouldn’t make it so easy.

  “You will all have your chance.” He stepped back. “For now, I would like to get some rest.” He wanted them to go. Being in the same room for so long made him dizzy. They all smelled like potluck, dirt, and potions.

  Their faces grew long, like they had really expected him to make a decision in that very moment. He wish
ed he could have. At least he would be able to return to the castle much sooner.

  “What do we do with these?” Pamela asked as she held out her casserole.

  He looked around. “Just leave them on the table.” He indicated the other side of the room. They shuffled over, some making deliberate attempts to brush against him, staining him with the village scents.

  They took an awfully long time to leave, batting lashes, blowing kisses, and lowering their tops to reveal full busts and ample cleavages. Maybe, in the dead of night when the world was black, he might enjoy suckling on a few choice breasts. But only under the cover of night, because the daylight revealed their faces and true natures. He felt like shit merely thinking it. What would his friends think about him lusting after village girls’ breasts?

  He turned his head away and allowed them to leave in single file. After they were all gone, he welcomed the silence. But the village never slept. As soon as the sun had set, the noise stirred in the district. There was loud music, laughing, shouting, and the occasional sounds of bottles breaking. And it was just seven in the evening.

  The bed was unusually uncomfortable, despite the softest bed linen he used. He tossed and turned, unable to catch a wink of sleep. A half hour later, and purely out of frustration, he grabbed his shirt, tucked it into his jeans, and slipped out of the house through the back. He thought he might fall asleep faster after he took a walk.

  The early night air was soothing as he crept stealthily behind the rows of houses. He was glad no one was around to see him—his walk would not have been pleasant otherwise. He looked up at the pale light of the moon and how its glow fell gently upon the sleeping plants and packed dirt walkways.

  The soft earth padded his footsteps, and as he walked, the noise from the villagers faded into the background and he was able to hear the music of the night—the crickets chirping, the owls hooting, and the scurrying among the brushes revealing the nocturnal creatures already busy searching for food.

  He hadn’t realized how serene and peaceful such a simple thing could be, nor how far he had walked, until he reached a large tree that faced a meadow. His peaceful walk was disturbed when he saw someone sitting under it, holding a lantern. He paused and thought to turn back, but he changed his mind when he realized the figure was a lone woman. She turned her head to the side when he approached, and the soft light from the lantern illuminated her face. He was struck instantly by her beauty. She hadn’t seen him as he approached, nor did he recognize her as one of the women he had seen earlier.

  There was something different about her, and as he got closer, she sprang to her feet. She held the lantern up to see the intruder on her solitude. He saw the long overalls she wore that covered anything that might be of interest to him. He expected her to bow or act the fool now that she had seen it was him.

  Instead, her hand fell and she turned and sat down again like he wasn’t even there. And for the second time that day, he was rendered speechless.

  Elena

  She was nothing like the other girls in town, nor was she popular among them. Elena didn’t dream of becoming rich, or of running off to New York or Rome or some other grand city she had heard the other village girls talk about. They only envisioned things based on stories they had heard. She had no interest in visiting the castle of a king, queen, and their spoilt son, much less drool after him. She had other dreams of following in her father’s footsteps, of owning her own land and farming it, of marrying a farm boy who loved the land as much as she did. Her ambitions were cultivated and nurtured on the island, and she had her sights firmly grounded on remaining where she was. Furthermore, she was anxious about leaving when she didn’t know what was really out there. She didn’t think she would fit in.

  She had heard that the prince was coming to the village—that he was commanded to find a wife lest the royal family risk losing the crown to the Wyatts. Elena didn’t care for either of them. She merely wanted to ensure her father retained his land, and whichever of them could do it would have her loyalty. She didn’t care for much else.

  When she learned of the decision, she wanted nothing to do with it. Her father had promised her she didn’t have to do anything and that the prince couldn’t force her to marry him if she didn’t want to. She was content with that. She had seen how the women had flocked to the house, and she hated the fact that he was so close to her father’s land. She wanted to avoid seeing him or running into him. She had gone to the meadow opposite her father’s farm to sit under her favorite old oak tree like she did every night when it was too warm to fall asleep. Or too noisy.

  She didn’t plan on being disturbed, especially by the prince. Her heart skipped a beat when she turned and saw him, but it wasn’t because she was smitten. She was merely alarmed that he was there alone, with no guard or royal escort. Every time she had seen him there had been a fanfare and a parade. He had to have song and tribute or he wouldn’t pass through the village. She arched her brow and played with the stick in her hand, doodling in the patch of dirt at her feet. He didn’t move, and she turned her head slowly to check if he was still there. He was.

  “Are you simply going to stand there?” she asked. It gave her great pleasure in speaking to him without fear of reproach or imprisonment. He was in her world, and for once, she had the upper hand.

  “You would talk to your prince like that?” he asked smugly and took a few menacing steps closer to her.

  She cocked her head to the side and looked up at him. “Nope. Not my prince.” She resumed her doodling. Elena’s head faced town as the drumbeats and howling got louder. “Dammit! Do they ever shut up?” she asked, more to herself than anyone else. “This is possibly the only village on the island this full of life at night,” she grouched.

  She leaned back against the tree and stared ahead, almost completely oblivious to the prince. He didn’t mean anything to her. What did she care what he wanted to do or where he wanted to go, as long as he wasn’t doing it there?

  “You’re not like the other women,” he said finally, but he didn’t come any closer.

  “What do you mean?” Elena asked as if she didn’t know what he meant.

  She was well aware she was the black sheep of the village. She wore baggy clothes most of the time, quite like the faded blue overalls she sported; she didn’t curl her hair but kept it caught in a bun at her nape, or under her straw hat when she worked in the fields; she didn’t wear perfume or make-up, and she hated high heels and fancy dresses. She didn’t consider herself a beautiful woman, though the village men thought otherwise. From time to time they had come on to her when they caught her unawares, but her father had taught her how to defend herself.

  She didn’t have friends. She had before, but they were mostly boys, and when she wouldn’t date any of them, they started spreading rumors about kissing her or fondling her. She had gotten into many fights because of it, so now, she was friendless. The other women were jealous of her, but she didn’t know why. They had the pretty hair and fancy clothes—Elena had nothing but the farm and her animals. She wasn’t even sure she remembered how to socialize.

  “I didn’t see you today,” Jason said as he moved a step closer to her. He eyed her suspiciously, and she wondered at the intrigue painted across his face.

  “I didn’t know you expected to see me,” she replied smartly. She didn’t look at him but moved her head so she looked even further away.

  “I expected to see all the women today.” He circled the tree so he was face to face with her again.

  “All the women who are interested, I assume.” She could tell he expected her to fawn, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “And you weren’t? Come on!” His ego was showing, and Elena wasn’t flattered.

  She turned her eyes slowly to him, a feisty remark ready on her lips. She didn’t expect him to be handsome, or to notice the way his eyes sparkled in the soft light, and she was caught up with the flames from her lantern flickering in their depths. She
almost forgot what she wanted to say. She had never seen him this close before. She had thought he would be ugly, judging by his snobbishness.

  She cleared her throat and looked away. “I wasn’t.” She took up her stick again.

  “Right,” he replied smugly. He paraded himself in front of her like a prized piece at the carnival. “So, you are telling me you would rather wear ugly clothes and work in the mud than marry a prince?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He laughed boisterously, loud and long, until he had to grip his stomach. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Elena felt insulted. What made him think because he was the prince she was supposed to trip over herself on her way to him? She had never liked the idea of him, and now that he stood in front of her, she knew her earlier preconceptions had been correct.

  She silently stood while he laughed and straightened her overalls. “For someone with a rope around their neck, you sure are cocky.” She turned to leave.

  His laughing stopped abruptly, and he made two steps and caught up to her. He grabbed her arm and forced her around. “Don’t walk away from me!” he commanded.

  Elena didn’t take too kindly to that. She shrugged him off and brushed his hand aside. “Let go of me!”

  “I can do as I damned well please,” he retorted.

  Elena crossed her arms over her chest. “You may be the prince, but possibly not for long. You still need to marry someone—and not just anyone,” she reminded him. “Rumor has it you have to marry a village girl in order to remain a prince.”

  Jason grimaced and clenched his jaw. His fists tightened into balls against his thighs, and his gaze moved to the rolling greens of the meadow, now black from the night that masked it.

  Elena smiled when she saw that she was having an effect, and she got a rush of confidence that made her head swell. “If I were you, Prince Jason, I’d get down off my high horse. You’re the one in need of help.”