His Princess (A Royal Romance)

by Abigail Graham

  “Hey!” I bellow, charging at her.

  It’s just appropriate, really.

  “Get away from him, you bitch!”

  She swings at me, and Kristoff parries the blow, turning her sword aside. When the flat of her blade hits my arm guard, the screen flashes and a red mark appears on a little stickman in the bottom corner. She damaged my suit.

  That makes me irrationally mad, so I punch her in the face. My fist rings with the impact, and it sends her reeling. She swings her blade again but I’m inside her arms, and and catch her in a bear hug.

  I don’t know how this thing works, so I just run straight into the wall with her. The concrete buckles and cracks in a spiderweb from the impact, and then she pummels the side of my head with her fist.

  The crackling blade comes down toward my face. I throw my arms up then roll away as Kristoff’s blade guards me from the impact.

  I get to my feet, springing up easily as the suit reads my movements. Dizzy, I stumble back.

  We have her flanked, he and I on different sides. She sweeps her sword from side to side, waving the tip at us. Kristoff feints at her.

  “We have you,” he says, edging closer, limping. “You can’t take us both in that old armor. Give up, Cassandra.”

  She laughs, tinny and echoey in her armor. “The moment I lower my guard you’ll kill me.”

  “I swear, I will grant you clemency. I want an end to this. I want it to be over. I grant you safe passage if you surrender your armor and swear never to set foot in my lands again.”

  “You want an end to this,” she snarls, “you shall have it.”

  She charges at him, bats his blade aside, and drives hers straight at his chest.

  I scream, wordless, and throw myself at her.

  I do…something. It feels like I just jumped off a ten-story building and my feet hit the ground heels first.

  Before I even know what happened we hit the ceiling, and drop down. The walkway buckles under the weight of the suits as we roll, locked together. I jam my fist into her faceplate, kick at her, and she dents in the side of my armor with a hammer blow.

  I kick and my armored talons scrape across her faceplate. She falls.

  Straight into the shredder.

  It catches her foot and she screams high and loud, the sound amplified into a piercing wail by the speakers in the helmet she wears.

  I roll off the platform, land hard on the concrete, and grab the remote as she screams obscenities and tries to drag me in with her.

  My finger hits the speed control and breaks the remote.

  Not before it turns all the way up. Her curses turn to screams and then to a high-pitched wail that blends with the shriek of the machine. My prince seizes me and spins me around.

  “Don’t look. Don’t look.”

  His sword clatters to the ground and he sags to his knees.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “We have to go. Now!”

  He rises and pulls me along. I use the suit’s power to lift and carry him out of the building. Behind me there’s a wild, almost animal shriek and the shredder blows apart with a whump and the high-pitched wail of an engine uncoupled from the machine it drives.

  Outside we stagger to our knees.

  “I’ve summoned help,” he says.

  The Kosztylans arrive first, on his heels, almost.

  “How did you find me?”

  He yanks the helmet off his suit and drops it. “I put a tracking device in your shoe.”

  “Help me get this thing off, damn it.”

  Opening it piece by piece, I drag myself out of the armor. The two suits crouch there side by side as we sit on the dirty ground next to each other.

  “Would you have let me go, if I wanted?”

  “Yes. I only… I would let you go, but I would not let you come to harm. Always I would watch over you, keep you safe. You are my life, even if I must set you free.”

  I rest my hand on his.

  “I want to go home.”

  “Yes, home,” he sighs, “I understand. It is much to ask for you to give up everything you’ve ever owned to—”

  “I mean our home. Back to our castle.”

  His face lights up and he leans over and gently kisses my cheek, leaning his forehead against mine. His people are quickly lifting the suits into a truck, carrying them piece by heavy piece.

  “When you went out before, you were fighting her.”

  “Dozens of times,” he says sadly. “Never could I simply end it. The temptation was there… But there was a line I could not cross. I will never hurt a woman, no matter what sort of monster I become.”

  I smooth the hair away from his face and he winces as my hand brushes a knot on his head.

  “My prince,” I whisper.

  He takes my hand. “When we are home again I will destroy these things. All of them. I will tear down the assembly line, destroy the schematics, all of it. As long as it exists there will be the threat that someone will use it. It is too great a power for anyone to have, me most of all. It must end with us.”

  I squeeze his hand.

  “There will be many changes. We will make a better world…for our children.”

  “Yes,” I sigh. “Yes, we will. Take me home, my prince.”

  “As you wish, Penny.”

  11

  It is my wedding day.

  I haven’t seen my prince since last night. We did not sleep together, as usual. I took my old room and now I pace back and forth in my gown, wondering how anyone even expects me to walk in this thing. The train is thirty feet long, fanning out behind me like the gossamer wings of an enormous lace butterfly. The bodice is studded with real pearls, a gold chain wraps around my throat, and the high collar is covered in an intricate pattern of fire opals, sapphires, and emeralds.

  My mother pulls my veil down and tucks it into place. I clutch the bouquet and try to look like a bride. Mom sighs.

  “You look lovely, honey.”

  I finally called them before we left New York. They really were in town, but came on their own.

  You should have seen the look on my father’s face when my fiancé walked into the pizzeria and introduced himself. After that Kristoff hired a real pizza chef from New York to come to Kosztyla and train people to open a pizzeria here in the capital city.

  It wasn’t all sweetness and light. My mom and dad were there…as was his girlfriend. They separated while I was gone and didn’t tell me. He was driving to her house every week to make the phone call and keep up the illusion that I had a happy home, such as it ever was, waiting for me.

  As Mom fusses over me, Dad, sans girlfriend, is with my husband-to-be. I’m told they had a wild party last night; I’m rather glad I’m not privy to the details. I can be reasonably confident there were no strippers, so that’s a plus.

  I pace around and around the room.

  “You’re going to wear out those slippers of yours,” she says.

  I sigh. She’s right. They’re silk and have freaking pearls on them. If I pace around much more my toes will be sticking out by the time I get to the great hall.

  There’s a knock at the door and my breath catches.

  My father, in a finely tailored tuxedo, enters the room as my mother opens the door for him. In contrast to all the years that I remember of their marriage, they actually look happy to see each other. He stands a little taller, and he’s lost weight.

  Maybe if I’m lucky Mom will start dating eventually and settle down with somebody more to her liking.

  “They’re ready for you,” he says, sighing. “I have to walk you down and all that. Beth, you can go ahead.”

  Mom nods to me and walks past him, stopping to kiss him on the cheek. Peace on my wedding day, I should be overjoyed. It’s good luck, I hope.

  When we’re alone he says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” I tell him firmly, sighing deeply. “I do, I really do. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.”
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  He offers me his arm, and I take it. It’s a long walk, and the halls are lined with guards carrying heavy pikes, staring straight ahead as we pass. My honor guard, as tradition demands.

  I’ve been hearing the phrase “as tradition demands” a lot lately.

  The walk feels like it takes hours but it’s really about ten minutes. There’s no chorus of Here Comes the Bride as I walk down the aisle, a long row between benches and benches of guests. Dignitaries, celebrities, people from all over the world, and the press. This is on TV around the globe.

  My prince stands at the altar, set up before the throne on the dais. One of his ministers will perform the ceremony.

  My soon-to-be husband looks at me reverently, a soft, happy smile on his face. As my father steps away and I come to face him, the music swells and my lip trembles. I can feel tears welling in my eyes.

  Come on, Penny, you can handle this.

  I steel myself as he lifts the veil and draws it over my shoulders, baring my face to him. He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time, studying every detail of my face with reverence and adoration. I want to kiss him now and the ceremony be damned.

  We have to go through all the motions first. The ceremony is in Kosztylan and then repeated in English. I say my vows haltingly in his language, and then he places a ring on my finger, and I one on his.

  The ceremony doesn’t stop here. I drop to one knee, bowing my head slightly. From a padded case he lifts a tiara of silver, fine wires braided together with a fire opal in the center. As I draw the veil off my head completely, he tucks the crown into my hair and carefully adjusts it, takes my hands, and pulls me to my feet.

  Then he kisses me, to an excited roar of applause. I grin and forget myself, hot tears of joy burning down my cheeks as he pops the clasps holding my train in place, doffs his heavy cloth-of-gold cloak, and throws it over my shoulders. I clutch it like a blanket, maybe hamming it up a bit too much as I sniff at it and wrap it around myself, turning to kiss him again.

  The reception is here. The guests stand as an army of servants clear the benches, unfolding huge, cleverly joined oak tables as everything in front of the dais is cleared away and a table carried out in front of us.

  I take my seat at his right hand, our… Hell, call them what they are. Our thrones are pushed together so they touch, and I rest my arm on his as the presentation of the wedding gifts begins. It takes two hours for them all to be given, foreign dignitaries and government ministers and locals carrying them up, holding them high so we can see them, then carrying them off to a side table where they quickly pile high.

  Then comes dinner, the first of nine courses, so much food that if I tried to eat a full helping of all of it, my dress would burst.

  I’m not showing yet but I would be if I ate all this.

  So much attention is fawned over me I start to feel drunk from it, and end up leaning on Kristoff’s arm, ignoring most of the goings-on as the food is brought and taken. He feeds me choice bites from his plate for a while, and then the time comes for the cake.

  I follow him to the middle of the hall as it’s carried out. It must be ten feet high, so elaborately decorated that it feels tragic to take a knife to it. Yet I do, though we skip the whole smashing the cake in the groom’s face thing. It’s not dignified. I cut big slices for each of us and we eat them standing up.

  I can feel my anticipation fluttering in my stomach as I swallow the sugary cake, swiping at my lips with my gloved fingers. I feel like a virgin all over again, thinking about what tonight will bring. My prince’s glances and longing looks turn my legs to jelly.

  After the cake is served and the tables are moved again, the band starts up, and he pulls me into the room for a solo dance, sweeping me around the stone floor, lifting me from my feet as he turns me in his arms. I cling to him and squeeze his sides hard.

  Other couples join. It’s so surreal to see my mother and father dancing at my wedding…here, of all places. I can barely believe this is happening. It’s like a dream.

  Kristoff notices that I’ve started to cry, and pulls my head to his chest.

  “What concerns you, my princess?”

  “I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.”

  “Share your burdens.”

  “I… I feel like I don’t deserve this.”

  The music slows and so do we. The world blurs until it’s just the two of us, dancing through a magic kingdom.

  “No one could deserve it more.”

  “I wish my brother was here. I wish…” I trail off, leaving my second wish unspoken. I can’t tell my husband I wish my dead fiancé was here.

  “I know,” he says, tugging on my braid until my hair falls loose.

  “If he left me or we broke up or something it would be different but one night he was just gone and… I feel so awful. I want to love you with all my heart, but there’s still a piece of him there and I can’t just make it go away.”

  “That piece of your heart is part of you. I love you for it. For your compassion, for your kindness, for your strength and humility. I said my vows before the people, but this is my vow to you. Now and forever I am yours. Hold me in your heart as well. That is all I ask.”

  I sniffle into his chest and we dance until the music begins to fade.

  Then it picks up again, a raucous tune. He told me this would happen but I’m not quite ready for it. All at once he scoops me up and I yelp and throw my arms around his neck.

  Kristoff told me that traditionally, I’d be stripped naked by all the male guests and thrown into bed with him while they wait outside during the consummation. I almost thought he’d go through with it, but he’s only teasing me.

  I cling to him as he carries me out of the hall, the guests in tow. They stop at the gate to the old section of the castle and we go the rest of the way ourselves. He doesn’t let go of me until he lowers me onto the bed and steps back to close the door.

  I lower my feet to the floor and stand up. As he turns around, I undo the toggles and laces on the sides of my dress and let it fall in a pool around my feet. Underneath I’ve chosen a set of white lingerie and white stockings. I slip out of my shoes as he undoes his formal coat, stopping when I begin to undress him.

  He tucks my crown onto my head to make sure it stays in place as I kneel before him. I look up at him and reach out with my tongue and pull the head of his cock into my mouth. He was already hard but gets harder, his hand gently resting on the back of my head as I wet the tip of his cock, swirling my tongue around it.

  He likes that, I’ve learned.

  The look on his face when he gives me a little thrust is priceless, like he forgot himself. I take him deeper in my mouth and then abruptly pull back, pressing my lips around his shaft just under where the head flares, as if saying no, no, let me do the work.

  I tug his trousers down to his knees and rest my hands on his hips. My eyes lock on his and his whole body shakes under my hands as I keep my lips squeezed tight and slowly work them down his shaft, the taste of him filling my mouth.

  One longing look and then I focus, close my eyes, and pull with my hands, shoving him down my throat. It’s hard as I start to gag, and I can’t take much of it, just long enough to slide my tongue out just a bit and tickle his balls with it. I open my eyes before I pull back and let his cock fall out of my mouth to take a deep breath, then begin sucking him again.

  He rests his hands on my head and shoulder as I work. When I taste a hint of salt in my mouth I pull back and push his shaft against his belly and lick the underside for a while, feeling him tense as I edge him closer to a climax. The more excited he gets, the more I tease, working down to toy with his balls with my tongue and lips, sucking just until he groans before I stop.

  He can’t take any more, I can feel it. I take him in my mouth and jerk with both hands until he explodes, gulping it down and wringing every drop out of him with my hands. He almost doubles over, his fingers twisting painfully in my hair as he loses control,
tightly gripping my shoulder to keep himself from ramming his pulsing cock all the way down my throat.

  When it’s over he yanks me to my feet and pulls me against him, and kisses me hard. I yield to it, rising on my toes to melt into him, running my hands over his skin.

  “That is the last time you kneel for me,” he purrs, stroking my hair.

  “What if I want to?” I say, batting my eyelashes at him.

  I pull back and turn slowly, giving him a full view of my ass as I pace to the bed and summon every ounce of my inner vixen to entice him to follow. I lie on my side and stroke the featherbed next to me. Come here, big boy.

  He sheds the last of his clothes and climbs into bed. I cry out and giggle when he grabs my legs, forces me onto my back, and spreads my thighs apart. He grabs my panties and rips them apart, throwing the shreds apart, and dives between my legs.

  Oh God. I knot my fingers in his silky hair as his tongue glides over my thigh, working toward my pussy. My legs shake at just the thought of it. Just when I think he’s going to put his mouth on me he pulls back and cups my ass in his hands, squeezing. I buck my hips up at him, pleading silently. Come on, do it.

  One little lick and I melt into the bed. He sticks his tongue out and drags it over my mound, letting me watch. I smile a dopey smile and my eyes go lidded as he goes to work, tasting every delicate inch of my throbbing pussy. When he starts to work my clit, I groan.

  “Your prince commands you come for him,” he purrs.

  “Yes,” I whimper, clutching his hair.

  Now, do it, please. He buries his face in me and I writhe on the bed, driven to higher and higher planes of ecstasy. I’m just on the edge when I yank on his hair.

  “Fuck me, oh please fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me!”

  He rises over top of me, planting his hands on my shoulders, shoving me down on the bed. The sight of his rock-hard cock fills me with lust and anticipation and fear, and I feel my body clench, trying to grip him even before he enters me.

  “It’s my wedding night,” I whisper, stroking my nails down his chest. “I think I’m supposed to plead with you to be gentle.”