The professor hardly spares me a look, no more than she would any other student. Or so I think. The closer I look, the more I catch her glancing from the corner of her eye, glancing at me first when she turns the page of her lecture notes, glaring at me for a moment when she turns around.
I try to convince myself it's in my imagination, but that simply can't be true. I feel a sense of menace from her, like I'm sitting above a predator's cage, watching a panther pace back and forth, eyes always on me, hungry to know what I taste like.
Today I pay extra careful attention, typing notes so comprehensive they border on unnecessary. I catch myself typing "um" because she says it. I will not let her beat me, I swear. My average in the course is a B- again, and if I work hard on the final exam, I can still pull an A.
Besides, I have Jason to help me. I glance back at him a few times. Slouched in his seat, he looks as though he would rather be anywhere else.
When class finally ends, I fight the urge to go to him, as usual. When I walk by, it pains me not to look at him so much that I finally spare him a glance. He smirks when he sees me looking, and I will myself not to blush, and hurry on out to the hallway and away from the lecture hall.
My day goes as normal, and I grow anxious thinking what surprise Jason will spring on me tonight. When I climb down from my room and clamber over the fence, he is waiting by the corner. I sprint over to him and tuck up beside him.
"Grandolf failed me on my last set of review questions," he says with a deep, sad sigh.
I stop in my tracks. "What does that mean? Will it hurt your scholarship?"
He sighs again. "It could. I'm doing better on the math, but midterms are coming up and I'm not sure."
"We can take time to study."
He gives me a sad look. "Next week, huh? Let's have fun. Listen, I think we should ditch class on Friday."
My heart skips at the thought of willfully missing one of my classes. Jason sees the look on my face and laughs.
"Don't go so pale. There's something I'd like to show you and it closes for the year on Friday. We'll borrow the brothers' car and go for a nice road trip, huh? Sneak out of here in the morning."
I bite my lip and huff. "I do not know how I would get past my guards."
"Tell 'em you're sick." He shrugs. "You need to stay in your room. Then sneak out. Come on. You agreed to one week. What does it matter if you get caught at the end of it?"
"I would be sent home. I don't want to go home."
Jason puts his arm around me. "I can't believe they'd really do that to you. What if you told them you wanted to stay together with me? It's 2016, Ana. People don't arrange marriages anymore, no matter who they are."
"They do if they are royalty," I sigh. "Please, can we not speak of this? I don't want to think of how this must end. What are we going to do today?"
"I didn't have anything in mind. We can get the car if you want, go for a ride."
"You drive?"
"Yeah, I just can't afford my own car."
I nod. "We'll drive on Friday. Tonight let's walk. Perhaps we can find a restaurant."
After we are away from town, Jason has an idea.
"You know what quintessential part of the American experience you're missing? Chinese food."
I look at him and blink a few times. "What?"
"Come on."
He takes my hand, and we quicken our pace. When we reach the Great Wall Chinese Buffet, he leads me inside and buys our way in. Jason loads up my plate with a dozen foods I can't pronounce, and we take a table in the corner. I don't dare lower my hood. I am facing away from the door, though, so I feel comfortable taking off my sunglasses.
"Dig in," he says.
I hold up the peculiar sticks they gave me and look at Jason. He smiles and takes them from me, demonstrating how to use them. It still takes me five minutes to eat an actual bite of food. I'm so hungry, I grab the finger foods first, the spring rolls and won tons. It's all hot and greasy and feels a little heavy, but good.
Like everything about this country, it's a little overwhelming.
"Do you miss home?" he asks.
I want to say no, but instead I say, "I do miss my country. It is where I grew up. It is a part of who I am."
"Tell me about it."
I shrug. "The beaches are all pebbles. There is no sunbathing. Most of the island is all rocky coast, so sheer that few people can climb it. There is one safe harbor where the ships come and go, but the rest of the coastline is impassible."
"That sounds like a geography textbook, Princess. What's it like? I want to feel it."
I chew a slice of chicken thoughtfully.
"It is beautiful. It seems dreary until you come to know it. Half the days of the year it threatens rain, and the other half it does rain. The storms can be terrible, hail and lightning that splits the sky like the anger of God. The seas around the island rage and thunder, but it is glorious. When the storms come into the east side of the island, the waves slam into the rocks and cliffs and great pieces shear off."
He looks rapt. "Go on."
"The water bites holes in the cliffs. In some places the caves reach all the way through to the interior. The streams flow down into the sea through them. They all originate from the mountain slope, and when it rains, they become floods. The castle has such a stream that flows straight through it, through cisterns in the walls to keep flowing down to the valley below.
"When the sun does shine, it is incredibly beautiful. The whole island is dark green grass from one end to the other, except for forests on the slopes of the mountain that my ancestors kept as a hunting reserve."
"I'd like to see all this someday," he says.
"Jason, you—"
"I know I can't," he says bitterly. "I know, I know, I'm not good enough for you, really. This can only be a fling."
"I did not mean it that way. You know that. You are good enough. More than good enough."
"Am I?"
I bite my lip, trying to find the words to soothe him, but all I can say is
"Jason. I've been royalty all my life, but only you make me feel like a princess."
He looks genuinely shocked. "Do you mean that?"
"Yes." I nod. "If things were different, if they were…."
"You're right." He takes my hands. "We shouldn't do this. Do you like your food?"
"Yes, but there is too much. I cannot eat all this."
He nods. "Yeah, me either. They feed you in these places, no denying it."
As we leave, Jason takes my hand. We start back toward town, and I slow my steps, extending the walk. He has practice in the morning; he will need his sleep.
"I do not want to go back," I sigh.
"Home?"
"To the house. To the old ways. I want it to be like this now."
His grip tightens on my hand.
"You have to decide what you're going to do."
"It would be easier if we could just be ourselves. If I could just be me and you, you. If we could go where we want, do what we want. I no longer wish to hide. I would like to walk down the main street with you."
"Let's do it. Throw back your hood and let's just walk and let everybody see us."
I stop in my tracks. "You jest."
"I don't. What are they going to do?"
"I told you, I will be sent home by morning. They'll take you away. I already wonder if I should even be here. I can't keep you."
His expression is blank. "You wonder if you should be here?"
"Nothing I've done with you is a mistake. I regret none of it, except that I cannot keep you. Do you not see?"
"Who says you can't keep me?"
I cry out in frustration. "You refuse to listen!"
"Yeah, I refuse to listen to nonsense. Run away with me."
"I cannot do that."
"Yes, you can. We'll just run. Disappear. Nobody will look for me, it'll be you that's the problem. Get a haircut and dye your hair. I'd hate to see it, but I'd hate to lose you
."
"I want to," I whimper. "I wanted to as soon as you said it, but I can't. Don't make me think about it ending."
I throw myself at him, and he wraps his arms around me. We stand for a while before we begin to move.
"I'm going to make Friday really special, I promise."
"I believe you."
"Come on, let's get you back to your castle."
Resigned, I walk with him, hand in hand.
"Tomorrow we'll just hang out at the house. I'll tell the boys to get lost for a while, give us our space. We can study or watch TV or just sit together. Whatever you want, Ana."
"Thank you," I sigh.
We kiss deeply before I return to the house. Once I'm back in my bedroom, I close the window and sulk, sitting cross-legged on my bed, eating a fortune cookie.
I flop back and stare at the ceiling. It offers me no answers.
One floats into my mind.
I could abdicate.
I chew my lip, and send a video-call request to Konstantin. It's midafternoon back home, so I may not reach him at all. I wait for a minute and nearly give up before he answers.
"Sister!" he says, beaming into the camera. "What troubles you at this late hour?"
I sigh. "Konstantin, how would you like to be king?"
He starts laughing. "No thank you. I've seen enough of what Mother goes through to want to chafe my ass on a throne. I have important philandering to attend to."
Huffing, I scowl at him. "I'm serious. I just had a thought…."
The blood drains from his face. "Don't you dare."
"I could."
"You can't."
"I should."
"You mustn't."
I smirk. "Why, afraid you'll come down with a case of responsibility?"
He snorts. "No. If you abdicate the throne, then I'll have to abdicate the throne, and poor Illiana will have to abdicate the throne, and it'll just be anarchy. We can't have anarchy, sister. Sorry, you were born into the top spot. I'm just the spare, and I like it that way."
I fold my arms over my chest and give him a sharp look.
"You look so queenly. The subjects will just love you."
"Konstantin, this isn't a joke. I…"
His smirk fades. "What?"
"I think I'm in love with him."
"It'll pass," Konstantin sighs. "Trust me, I've seen it pass many, many times."
"When I am queen, I will be putting an end to your womanizing, brother. You're going to settle down."
"I changed my mind, you should abdicate."
"It's different with you," I snap. "You want them to leave you."
"I always make it clear I'm only interested in a temporary arrangement."
"Oh, I know. I'm not the only one who sells lots of copies of The Royal Exposé, brother."
He quirks an eyebrow. "You've been reading back in the archives, I see."
"I wouldn't be reading such trash if they didn't have a fixation on taking pictures of my rear end. Also yours, for that matter. Among other things. I saw the pictures of your Ibiza trip. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I'm proud of myself. I'm sorry fate has dealt you such a poor hand, sister, but why should I not enjoy my freedom?"
I sigh. "It reflects poorly on the royal family."
"God, you sound like Mother."
The regret is written plainly on his face as soon as he says it. I can feel the color draining from my own, as though my skin is freezing. At the same time, I feel a burn in my eyes.
"Don't say that," I choke out. I mean to yell at him, but my throat strangles the words.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, Ana. You're not like her at all. You're kind and gentle and… loving. I think when you were born, all the warmth in Mother's heart flowed into you."
I can't help it. I beam at him.
"Thank you."
"I wish for your happiness, Ana. I don't want to be king any more than you want to be queen."
"Someone has to do it."
"You were born for it. You are kind and gentle and wise. I am a womanizer and a hedonist. I don't deserve a crown."
"You're better than you think you are," I sigh.
"Yes, yes." He waves his hand. "I've heard it before." He clears his throat. "I have something I should tell you," he sighs.
"What?"
He shifts from side to side and scrubs his hands through his hair, the way he always does when he's nervous.
"Mortimer has been visiting the castle more frequently lately. Thrice this week, and his father too."
I feel a cold, queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"For what purpose?"
"If only I knew, but I'd rather see him gone. You should banish him from the island when you're crowned."
"I should banish him to the moon," I sigh. "Let him sniff after me all he likes. Mother will never force a marriage on me."
"Why? One was forced on her. Do you not remember?"
"That was the past. Those things are not done."
"It wasn't that long ago, sister. Strange as it is to believe, dear Mother was once our age. I've heard rumors of trouble between her and our grandsire."
I wave a hand to dismiss them. "Servants talk."
"Not just from servants, though I do plenty of talking to them, though lately Mother has been exclusively taking old women into her service. I wonder why."
"I'm sure you're still just as popular with the villagers."
"Perhaps."
"Just do us all favor and don't get any of them in trouble."
"Who, me? Trouble?"
"Konstantin, listen." I lean forward. "If you learn anything about Mortimer arranging a marriage contract, tell me. Please."
"If you know, Mother will know you know because I know, and she'll know I let you know."
"What?"
"I will. Even if it means I end up being king. Oh well, I guess after I breed whatever sow mother sticks me with, I can have something on the side."
I scowl at him.
"It's good to be the king." He shrugs. "I've got to run, I have important in flagrantes to delicto."
I snort. "Good luck with that, brother. Remember what I told you."
He grins, waves, and ends the call.
I prop my chin on my hand and check my email. I scroll through the various messages from professors—all automated, generated by the school's message board system—until I come to an email from Mortimer.
"A gift for you," the title reads.
I click the little box and prepare to send it to the garbage can, but against my better judgement, I open it and scroll down.
The message, in its entirety, is: <3
Beneath that is a closeup picture of his penis.
I jerk away from the computer and try not to retch. Slowly, I turn around and try not to look as I hit the Reply button.
Did you send your gift, I type. I can't see it.
Then I hit Send.
Sigh.
Give up my rights and the throne. I don't know what Mother would do if I did. Banish me? Most likely. I couldn't stay home, that would be certain. Any children I had could threaten my younger brothers line if he takes my place.
In America we would be safe, but what would I do here? I could teach, I suppose, or work for a company, but so far I can handle America only in measured doses, with a guide. I would be lost going to work, buying a car, paying my taxes. I don't even know how to cook.
All this luxury has made me helpless. I can't even care for myself.
I jump at the knock on my door.
It's Thorlief. I let him in and sit on the bed.
"Back so early?"
"He has practice tomorrow. He has to be up early to train."
"I see. You're sad."
"I promised him a week. The week is almost over. Thorlief, I need something from you."
He lets out a deep, rumbling sigh. "Yes."
"On Friday I must skip class and go with him. You must convince everyone tha
t I am sick and cannot leave my room. Bring meals to me and leave them. Do whatever you need to do."
"Princess—"
"Please," I whimper.
His big shoulders roll, and he gives me the briefest of nods.
"End it now," he says. "You'll be happier. Or after this excursion. Let it end on a happy memory you can cherish. A little happiness can last a very long time, but a little anguish can burden happy memories forever."
"It ends on Friday."
He nods again. "Just so."
"Wait."
He stops before he leaves and closes the door again.
"Yes?"
"What would you do if you were in my position?"
He looks up. "Why do you ask?"
"I could abdicate. Refuse to accept the crown. I have six healthy siblings."
He looks confused for a moment, opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. I see his chest swell as he takes a great breath, but he stops before he speaks once more.
"Tell me. What would you do?"
"If I could change my life," he says, "if I could start over, I would follow my heart's desire and damn the consequences. We only have one life, and most of us realize that too late. Sometimes we do not know the value of a thing until it is gone, of a moment until it is passed, of a love until it is lost. I would have tried, Princess. That is all. I would have tried."
Thorlief opens the door and steps out.
The next day, when I finish my classes, I text Jason. He answers quickly.
Jason: I'll let you know when practice is done. I'll pick you up.
I feign coughing that night and tell Mavra I am not feeling well, and ask her for something light. My dinner is a fish stew. I eat some and ask Thorlief to take it downstairs before I slip out the window.
"Tell them I'm feeling ill and I will not be coming out of my room tonight. I need my rest."
"Yes, Your Grace."
He closes the door as I step out onto the porch roof, testing my weight before I grab on to the column and slip down. When I hop the fence, Jason is there to catch me. He wraps his his arms around my waist and lowers me to the ground.
I slip my hood up, and we walk together to the house. I say very little. He says less. It seems as though his hands never leave my body though, whether it's an embrace or hand on my hips or just a hand holding mine.
Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) Page 19