Prince of my Panties (Royal Package)

by Lili Valente

  I don’t know if she’s telling the truth—we only filled one and a half of the two bags she brought into the room—but I did the best I could.

  All that’s left to do now is pray that it’s enough. I wasn’t raised in the church, and considering the curse, I’ve always felt that, if there was a higher power, it wasn’t on my side.

  But maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe the universe has mercy set aside for me. Maybe it’s just been waiting for me to ask for it.

  I fold my arms on the tray attached to the chair, bend my head to rest on top, and close my eyes…

  Please let Rafe be okay.

  Please let the curse end with me, the way Kaula said it would.

  Please let the future be better than the past, with lots of blank pages waiting for me to write in them. With Jeffrey.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, his deep voice rumbles from the doorway, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I lift my head, surprised to find it clearer, calmer than it was before.

  “I brought orange juice.” He holds up a cardboard container with a cartoon orange with big pink lips. “The woman at the desk gave me permission this time. I had to autograph an intake form for her granddaughter, but…”

  “Her granddaughter collects forms?” I tease, smiling when he lets out a long sigh. “You like my jokes.”

  “Your jokes are my favorite jokes,” he says, claiming the nurse’s now-empty seat and setting the orange juice on my tray. “You’re my favorite person. But if you still have feelings for Rafe, I…understand.”

  I blink. “I’ll always have feelings for Rafe, but not those sorts of feelings. Not these sorts of feelings.” I cup his scruffy face in my hand, lips curving as I brush my fingertips over the stubble. “I bet you’re very handsome with a beard.”

  “I’m incredibly handsome with a beard.” He turns to kiss my palm. “I’ll grow one for you. By this time next week, you won’t be able to resist me.”

  “I’m not even going to try,” I murmur, leaning in to rest my forehead against his, but kissing him doesn’t feel right. Not here, with death still too close for comfort. “He has to be okay.”

  “We can’t be sure it’s him.”

  “Yes, we can,” I whisper.

  “I don’t know what I’m sure of anymore. Since the day I followed you up to that cabin…” His warm fingers wrap gently around the back of my neck. “Nothing makes sense, but, in another way, everything does. Finally.”

  That’s it, I have to kiss him.

  I angle my head, but before my lips meet his, a voice calls from somewhere down the hall. “Is she still here? The donor?”

  “Exam three,” another voice calls out.

  I pull away from Jeffrey as a woman in a doctor’s coat, with short, salt-and-pepper hair, steps through the door. “Hello, there. Hope I’m not interrupting,” she says. Her brown eyes are bright behind her glasses, and a smile curves her lips.

  “No, not at all,” I say. “Is everything okay with the donation?”

  Her expression sobers. “Yes, it’s wonderful, thank you. He’s receiving the first unit now, and vitals are already improving. If all goes well, we should see a huge improvement in a few hours. His wife signed a waiver, by the way. She’s aware there wasn’t time to test the blood for the usual viruses and that the nurse said the donor had recently been ill.”

  Traitor, I think, a thought that must show on my face because the doctor lifts a hand. “The nurse just wanted my professional opinion before we moved forward. But you were right—this is his best chance. Aside from the injuries related to the crash, the patient is in excellent physical condition. If we can get him stable, he should be strong enough to fight off a possible infection. Even if that O blood on order from Pearson gets here by morning, it’ll be too late, and it wouldn’t be an exact match anyway. B negative is rare in this part of Europe.”

  Her smile twitches at the edges. “So rare that I had to come chat with you. I’m a bit of a history buff. I did my dissertation on royal blood types and inherited diseases in noble families of Gallantia and Rinderland. I was going to tell you that there’s an excellent chance you’re related to the Rindish royal family, but…” She laughs again and motions to my face. “But you obviously know that. So nice to meet you, Princess. You’re…Sabrina?”

  “Elizabeth.” My stomach tightens, and dread creeps up my throat, my body putting the pieces together before my mind can work through the logical steps. But my mind catches up pretty quickly. “So does that mean the man upstairs…”

  “Probably a relation,” she confirms, clearly delighted.

  My eyes go wide. “Distant cousin, maybe? Very distant?”

  She shrugs. “I can’t say. You’d have to trace your family trees to be sure, but the blood type runs in the royal family. So does madness.” She winces. “Sorry, no offense. It was part of my dissertation. Trying to parse whether mental illness was genetically inherited, a side effect of too much money and power, or both.”

  “Fascinating.” My throat is still so tight it’s hard to get words out. “And the patient, his name is Rafe?”

  “I can’t answer that. Privacy concerns,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Did someone on staff share a name with you?”

  I shake my head. “No, he’s a friend. I knew he was going to be in the area with his wife and that they’ve just had a baby so…I made an educated guess.” I press my fist into my chest, where my heart is thumping fitfully.

  Rafe and I are related.

  And Rafe and I spent years doing everything but having penetrative sex. We absolutely had all the other kinds of sex.

  Which means…

  “I think I’m going to be ill,” I murmur, glancing over at Jeffrey, who’s…smiling. “Why are you smiling?” I demand. “This isn’t funny.”

  “It kind of is,” he says, chuckling an infuriating chuckle.

  “No, it’s not.” My hands ball into fists. “Not even a little bit.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first royal to have a romantic relationship with a relative,” he says, his stupid eyes crinkling at the edges as if accidentally committed incest is the funniest thing he’s heard in ages.

  “Oh, I see.” The doctor chuckles. “He’s absolutely right. And it’s not like either of you suspected. I mean, it’s not like he’s the nanny’s son, right?”

  “The cook.” I groan, my hands flying to cover my face as I shake my head. “Oh God, if my father… I’ll kill him!”

  Jeffrey rests a hand on my knee. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Call your father first, explain what’s happening. Hopefully he’ll give you some honest answers.”

  “No.” My hands drop to my lap. “I can’t. My father and I don’t have that kind of relationship. Just asking the question would…” I shudder. “I don’t know. It would probably give him a heart attack.” I bite my lip, an idea forming. “But I could call Rafe’s mother. I probably should, anyway, to let her know what’s happening. In case his wife hasn’t had time yet.”

  “Sounds like you two have this in hand, and I should get back to work.” The doctor gives a sheepish wave. “Sorry to be the bearer of…uncomfortable tidings. And thank you again for coming in to donate. I hope everything works out.”

  “Thank you.” I lift a limp hand before shifting my attention back to Jeffrey, who’s smiling again. “Stop it,” I warn him. “I’m upset.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” he says, schooling his features for a moment before the grin breaks through again.

  “Jeffrey!”

  “Sorry.” He lifts his hands in surrender. “I can’t help it. Sue me for being glad your ex is out of the picture for good.”

  “He was already out of the picture. He’s married with a baby. And he hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Jeffrey says, finally sobering. He takes my fist in his hands, slowly uncurling each finger. “He still has feelings for you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have married your doppelganger and wouldn’t find i
t painful to run into you outside of pizza restaurants. I’m sure he loves his wife and child, but…there’s still something in his heart for you—enough of a something that I find it a relief that he’s apparently your blood relative.”

  I shake my head. “Even if you’re right, I told you there’s nothing there for me. Not in that way.” I cringe. “What am I going to say to his mother?”

  “You’ll sort it out,” he says. “You’ve found your voice. You didn’t stutter in front of the nurse or the doctor, either.”

  “I know.” I thread my fingers through his. “Magic? Maybe Kaula unintentionally zapped my stutter out of me?”

  “You found the courage to face your biggest fear. I don’t think there’s anything magical about that.” His brow furrows. “But there’s nothing ordinary about it either.” He squeezes my fingers. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Wait to be proud of me after I find out I was romantically involved with my secret half-brother and have refrained from killing my father in a fit of rage.”

  “Well, madness does run in your family, so you’ll have a sound defense,” he says, and I resume glaring at his smug—but gorgeous—face.

  “I’m going to call Regina.” I stand, swaying slightly as the room spins, but recovering quickly as Jeffrey puts an arm around my waist.

  “After you drink the orange juice,” he says, putting the container in my hand. “Orange juice first, mystery solving second.”

  I take the cool, damp cardboard in hand, tipping it back, downing the contents in a few large gulps my stomach welcomes with a happy gurgle. I press a hand to my middle as I wipe the lingering stickiness from my upper lip. “Oh, wow. I think I’m starving.”

  “And I think we should go check out the café down the street. The woman at the front desk said they’re open until midnight and that the pastrami sandwich is something really special.”

  “You’re something really special,” I say, drunk on an orange juice sugar rush.

  He smiles. “Ditto. Ready to finish this?”

  I pull in a deep breath and nod. It does feel like something is coming to an end. Maybe it’s the final page in Rafe’s and my story—a happier ending than we had before. Maybe it’s the last of my innocence going up in smoke as I realize my father might not be the sweet, absent-minded but loyal and well-intentioned man I’ve always believed him to be. Maybe it’s the curse.

  Maybe all of the above.

  There’s only one way to find out…

  29

  Jeffrey

  Elizabeth and I sit on a wooden bench outside the clinic, beneath a buzzing lamp that’s attracting its fair share of summer insects. I watch them swarm in the cool night air as Lizzy explains the situation to Regina, who has been understandably upset since she answered the phone five minutes ago.

  Lizzy’s done a brilliant job of easing her mind, telling her that Rafe seems to be in good hands, his wife, Bethany, is awake and with him, and the doctors are doing everything possible to ensure their continued health and well-being.

  She hasn’t gotten to the part about the blood donation yet, but she’s getting close.

  I can feel it in the way her grip tightens on my fingers, the pressure increasing until she’s practically cutting off my circulation as she says, “Yes, I just happened to be in the area. And I, um…I happen to have the same blood type as Rafe. B negative, which the doctor here said was extremely rare. And that it probably meant… Well, that it made it likely that Rafe and I were…related somehow?”

  She falls quiet, but I don’t hear any sound coming from the other end of the line.

  Finally, she says, “Regina, are you still there?”

  A faint drone emanates from Lizzy’s cell, but she doesn’t have the volume turned up loud enough for me to hear.

  I can only sit and watch, dying to know what’s going on as she nods and mutters, “Uh-huh. Oh…” and her eyes grow wider.

  Wider.

  Until they’re like two full moons in her face.

  But she’s also smiling, a small curve of her lips that has awe lurking in the corners. Her eyes begin to shine as she laughs and softly assures Regina, “No, please. Of course not. I’m just so glad you told me now! This is…” She swallows and blinks faster. “This is amazing news. Wonderful. I couldn’t be happier. I’m so glad we’re family, even distantly.”

  She glances up at me and mouths happily, “Not my brother!” before telling Rafe’s mother, “Yes, absolutely. I’ll be in touch with any news and just…be in touch in general. I’m so glad we’ve reconnected after all this time. I’ve missed you.”

  There are a few more murmured assurances, and then Lizzy ends the call and flings her arms around my neck. “Everything is okay! He’s not my secret brother!”

  “Congratulations,” I say, laughing as I hug her closer. “So, how long ago did the family tree diverge?”

  She pulls back, amazement in her smile again. “The sister who cursed the family. Greta. Apparently, she didn’t die in the convent fire. She left the order, remarried, and had another family in Italy that eventually became Rafe’s branch of the tree. But Regina’s mother told her to keep it a secret. She thought it was scandalous that their ancestor had taken vows to marry God and then decided a hunky Italian butcher was more fun.” She lifts a shoulder. “But that’s why Regina applied to be our cook. She wanted to see where part of her family had lived, and then she stayed because she loved my sisters and me and knew we’d starve to death without a responsible adult around.”

  “Did she mention anything about…”

  Elizabeth shakes her head. “No. If she’s heard about it, she’s not the kind to believe in curses. She’s ultra-Catholic like her mother, but not in a superstitious way.” Her hands slide down my arms to grip both of mine. “But if this doesn’t count as getting rid of the bad blood in the family, I don’t know what would.” She beams. “I think we did it! I think the curse is broken.”

  “Maybe we should ask Manfri and Kaula when we get back to the camp? Just to be sure?”

  Lizzy cups my face in her hands with a soft sigh. “Look at you. Look at how far you’ve traveled down the crazy road in just a few days. I’m so proud.”

  I huff. “I don’t know about that. Give me a few days to rest, and I’ll be back to denying there’s any such thing as magic.”

  She shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

  “No?”

  “No. I’m going to make sure you keep believing in magic.” She leans in until her lips are only a whisper away from mine. “I’ll remind you every single day.”

  “Yes, please,” I say, and then I kiss her, soft and sweet, and then harder, deeper, our tongues dancing and our breath coming faster until a moth smacks into my face and I pull away, sputtering, as Lizzy bats it off my shoulder.

  “I think he was telling us to get a room,” she says, laughing.

  “Cheeky moth.” I take her hand. “To your tent, my lady?”

  “Yes.” She stands, swaying a little before she takes a breath and steadies herself with a hand on my arm. “But maybe the café first? I think I need to eat something. Maybe a lot of something. I’m starving all of a sudden.”

  “We’ll order one of everything on the menu,” I promise.

  Her eyes go wide. “We should. For real. I’ve never done anything like that before, but I want to. I want to do all the things. Everything that I told myself was off-limits and everything I thought I wouldn’t have time for, and all the other stuff I haven’t gotten around to imagining yet.”

  “And you will,” I say, ignoring the tug of doubt at the back of my mind.

  We’ll talk to Kaula or one of the other Romani campers tomorrow morning, make sure an emergency blood donation qualifies as a curse-breaking act, and snip away the last lingering threads of doubt.

  But when we arrive back at the campground with boxes full of leftovers to share with anyone at the Roma camp who’s awake and hungry, our neighbors are gone. Every tent stake has been pulled
up, every child’s toy and folding chair packed away.

  All that’s left are tire and wagon tracks in the dust, leading out of the site and onto the road.

  Elizabeth stands beside me in the glow of our headlights, staring at the trails in the sandy earth. “I had a feeling this would happen.”

  “We could go after them. They can’t have gotten far, especially not the wagon. Even towing it with one of the trucks, they’ll have to go slow, stick to the smaller roads. We could—”

  “No.” She rests a hand on my shoulder, her gaze searching the darkness beyond the headlights. “It’s over.”

  “Is it? How can we know for sure?”

  “We can’t.” She glances up at me. “But that’s what faith is for. I haven’t given it much of a chance before, but…I’m ready to try. Now. With you. If you’d like to come along for the ride.”

  I take her hand, squeezing tight. “Come home with me.”

  “Come back to the cabin with me first?” she asks. “And then home for a visit? I need to take care of a few things. Pack up my studio. Make sure my mother hasn’t done anything crazy while I’ve been out of pocket.” Her brow furrows. “And I should talk to Zan before I make a big move. She worries about me.”

  “She shouldn’t. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

  She grimaces. “Speaking of strong, this means I’ll have to start exercising, doesn’t it? Now that I need to worry about keeping my body healthy and in good condition for the long haul?”

  I draw her close. “Exercise isn’t all bad.”

  “Nope, not a fan.”

  “Sure, you are.” I kiss a path down her neck until I reach the place where her heart races at the base of her throat. I circle it with my tongue as I slide a hand up the front of her T-shirt, cupping her breast through her thin cotton bra. “Working up a sweat can be fun. Remember?”