Accidental Princess: A Hidden Kingdom Novel

by Lexi Whitlow

  It doesn’t take long, and I can hear that he’s sleeping soundly. I should be sleeping too but I can’t seem to quiet my mind. I feel like I’ve had sex for the first time, which is wild. It wasn’t quite sex and it was far from my first time.

  I try to remind myself that I just met Andreas, that this was just physical touch, nothing more. The thoughts swirl through my mind in a mass of confusion, taunting me. There’s something magnetic about him, something unusually wild and free, something that I like. But it doesn’t mean that his words were real, or that anything like this could be real.

  It was what it was, and I should be glad for it. I’m sure of that.

  I also know that I’m vulnerable, and men like Andreas aren’t the real remedy for the kind of pain I’ve just experienced. They’re a distraction, I remind myself. As real as it felt, it wasn’t.

  I snake my way out from his embrace, sad the moment I’m out of the bed. I need to clear my head, and I’m not going to be able to do that wrapped up in his arms, focused on how good it feels to be in his embrace.

  I put my dress back on and leave, trying not to think of the man I’m leaving behind.

  I give him one last look.

  Maybe, just maybe, I’ll let myself see him another time before we leave.

  There’s something nice about that possibility. But I need to get out before I find myself wanting to stay forever.

  4

  Andreas

  My bed is empty and cold when I wake up. The breeze is still blowing in from the coast, and the fan pushes the air silently around the enormous room. For once, this place feels too big, almost unwieldy. I don’t know if I want the girl to be there, or if it’s easier that she’s gone. Part of me wants to be angry that she took off, but on a deeper level, I understand.

  I get the discomfort, the uncertainty.

  And it’s an illusion for me to want anything else.

  “Get yourself together, Andreas,” I mutter. “Better to have the memory.”

  And the hope that perhaps I might see her again in this beautiful maze of a city.

  Last night, or this morning, was perfect. The image of Freya winds its way through my mind again and again. The sight of her curves, the feeling of her smooth skin against mine, the taste of her as she came and shook against me, like she was coming for the very first time.

  I thought I was going to lose my mind when she took me to the back of her throat. Her sweet mouth and perfect lips were the death of me, and I want to do it again and again. Hell, it gets me a little hard just thinking about it right now. I need a shower—a cold one at this rate.

  When I walk into the kitchen a half an hour later, I see Caelan sitting at the island lazily looking at his phone.

  “Hey, man,” I say.

  “Hey,” he answers not looking up.

  “Have you had lunch?” I ask as I look through the fridge.

  “No. Are you offering to cook?”

  I know he’s joking—it’s no secret my kitchen skills are next to nothing. It’s not my fault. That’s just a side effect of living in a royal household with a whole team of chefs.

  “Want to go get something?” I pause. “Then we can hit the beach after.”

  “You’re on. Let me go find some shoes.”

  Caelan gets up and I go back to my room to grab my phone. If I get the chance to see Freya again, I want her number. That’s my mission. It’s not much of one, but it’s all I’ve got. I want to see her again, and I need some way to get in touch with her. As for the beach, it’s the best guess I’ve got about where anyone’s going to be in Ibiza, especially when the weather is like this.

  Caelan and I walk down the boardwalk to this little bistro and sit at a somewhat secluded booth. It’s something that we don’t even discuss since we’ve been doing it for so long. Anytime we go on holiday, we always try to be incognito. Sometimes, like yesterday by the fountain, are unavoidable especially when you’ve been dubbed ‘Bellecoaste’s Second Most Eligible Bachelor.’ (Only so because of a certain brother of mine, who’s first in line to inherit.)

  I happen to like my role as second son. It fits me perfectly. I get to play and have fun, live a wild life while Caelan is forced to bend to the rules and play puppet.

  “How did last night go?” he asks after we’ve placed our order and he charmed the waitress.

  I smile. “Freya and I had a lot of fun last night.”

  “That’s it? You had a lot of fun? I don’t get to do things like this.” Caelan takes a bite of his food and looks away contemplatively. “I’d like a bit more information than that since you spent the entire evening mooning over her and left me with Allison.”

  “And you disliked that?”

  Caelan gives me a look. “She’d argue with a doorknob if it looked at her the wrong way.”

  “Sounds like someone I know,” I say, shrugging. “You might have met your match.” Caelan doesn’t say anything. He just looks away. “She is pretty.”

  “Yes,” he says, sighing. “But, you know, I’m betrothed and all of that.

  “Old rules.” I take a bite and a sip of the dark, bitter espresso, willing my body and mind to wake up.

  “That’s beside the point. The point is—you. And Freya. It’s been a long time since you’ve taken a girl home that quickly.”

  “You make me sound like a romantic, Caelan. And I’m anything but.”

  “You could have fooled me,” he says. “Remember, I know you better than anyone. I know that side of you. And I saw that side of you last night.”

  I ignore him. “She’s lovely. Smart… and funny. And she knows politics, even European politics. She reads romances and westerns and loves living in Scotland. And she found me interesting, I think. Interesting enough to talk to.”

  “And?”

  “And we had a good time. A great time. She’s—absolutely beautiful.”

  “So you’re falling for some American?”

  “Hardly,” I say. I finish off the espresso. “She was gone hours before I woke up.”

  Caelan looks at me questioningly. “And you’re sad about that?”

  “Yes. No.” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. It needs to be cut, or Mother will have my head when I get home. “I don’t fucking know.”

  “And you have plans to see her again?”

  “No,” I say. I feel the weight of the phone in my pocket. I should have gotten her number when she was with me. But I didn’t.

  “Just going to stick to your normal routine of getting to know a girl overnight and not calling her again?”

  “Why are you so interested? Deflecting from your own situation? Usually our morning conversations aren’t so personable. It’s more coffee and eating, and a lot less talk. I know which one I prefer,” I say.

  He surprises me, looking me right in the eye. “I liked Allison when we met. We kissed. She slapped me for some reason, which I liked even more. And then she disappeared. With your girl, it would seem. The one you’re actually able to pursue.”

  “My fault, man. I shouldn’t bring these things up. I know you’re sensitive about the rules and regulations of our beloved monarchy.”

  He raises a hand to stop me, and neither of us speak for a while. I order another coffee and quietly finish my breakfast.

  As we eat, I think over what he said and he’s right. Caelan was the one raised as the heir to the throne. We’ve both been hidden away until very recently, and he’s still got the pressure of marrying someone he barely knows. I should find Freya and enjoy her company, even if it’s only for a while.

  “If you see her again, would you tell her the truth?” he asks.

  “Which truth is that? The one about my history of bad vacation romances or the part about me drawing on the palace walls in crayon when I was four?”

  “The one about you living in a palace. The particular truth that you neglected to tell her before you took her home. That truth.”

  “Oh, that.” I sigh. “That only comes into pl
ay if I see her again. And it only really comes into play if she wants to see me again after that. So I’ll put that in the category of ‘eventual possibility,’ and we’ll leave it at that.”

  “I’m serious, Andreas. If you like this girl—”

  “I’ll stop you right there. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “You should have a plan for these kinds of things, even if it’s not with Freya. Mother and Father really just let us start going places without the royal guard, so this situation is bound to come up.” He pauses. “For you, if not for me.”

  “Yes, well, let me cross that very theoretical bridge when I actually come to it.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Just be cautious. We’ve kept our identities and lives private for a long time, and any romance could blow up in your face if someone finds out who you really are. Or if they find out you’ve been hiding who you are. Especially with a kissing picture floating around.”

  “Not an issue. That will only be live in Bellecoaste. She’ll never see it. And I don’t need a plan, especially if I’m not seeing her again,” I say. I push away the lingering doubt I feel when I say the words.

  Of course my brother is right. He always is—and so certain.

  He shrugs and leaves me to my thoughts.

  We finish our food, pay, and head down to the water. The sun reflects off of the crystalline blue water, and if I squint my eyes, I can barely tell the sea from the sky. The sand is hot against my feet, and there’s not a single cloud in the sky. There’s a small stand by one of the piers renting out kayaks and surfboards with a surly-looking Spanish man taking in too much cash from the naive tourists in Ibiza.

  “Surfing?” Caelan asks, mirroring my thoughts.

  “Fantastic idea.”

  We each pick out a board and head to the water. It’s not the best part of the day to catch waves, but I was too preoccupied this morning to even think about surfing. We paddle out about twenty feet from each other and wait for the rising crest. The water laps against the board, the sun hot on my back. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine Freya again before the next wave comes.

  Caelan catches the first wave and rides it for a few minutes before losing his balance and falling in. I laugh at him because even though he’s the oldest, I’ve always been a better surfer.

  Still laughing, something catches my eye—I spot two figures walking, one with the dark hair and olive skin I’d just been imagining. Freya, and her friend—the one who had Caelan so worked up.

  The girls find a spot on the beach and set up towels and an umbrella. I watch them talking, smiling. They both have on sunglasses, and it’s far—but I can tell it’s Freya. The shape of her body, the way she tilts her head and laughs. Even this far away, I can see that.

  I blink hard trying to bring myself back to reality. I hear the water again, lapping against the board.

  I can’t tell if she’s spotted us, but I catch the next crest and ride it to shore. I’m a little shaky—it’s been a while since I surfed. But I do well enough, and I see the girls laughing. Allison gives me a long, slow clap, and Freya covers her face. Maybe it’s fate or kismet or something that brought them here again.

  Or more likely, my brother texted Allison and didn’t see fit to let me know.

  Typical.

  I watch the two women on the beach, and an idea starts forming in my mind. It might be harder to keep my identity hidden with this one, but it’s all crazy enough that it just might work. Caelan and I have a yacht moored a few miles out, and it hasn’t gotten much use in the past few years. Members of the Royal Guard aren’t exactly the fun type when it comes to yacht parties off the coast of Ibiza.

  But they’re not here, and we are.

  We could just be two brothers with a wealthy family. In fact, that’s exactly what we are, when it comes down to it. If she and Allison don’t know any more than that now, perhaps we’ll skate by that particular piece of knowledge before they have to go back to Scotland. Being on that yacht—it’s the experience of a lifetime.

  There are so many beautiful places to see here in Ibiza, but nothing compares to what’s underwater. The marine life is next to none, some of the best around and there are plenty of fish to watch as they swim by.

  And maybe my brother will loosen up while we’re out there.

  It’s a win-win all the way around.

  5

  Freya

  Are you ready yet?” I ask Ally. She always takes forever so I’m not surprised, just anxious to be doing something other than waiting here in our hotel room for her to be ready to leave. We’re going to the beach, and for once, I’m eager to get outside and get going.

  She finally comes out of the bathroom and the black two piece she let me borrow looks absolutely prudish next to Ally’s neon green string bikini which hides nothing.

  Lord, we’re going to need all the help we can get today.

  “Dressing to impress?” I ask.

  “Impress who?” she asks mockingly.

  “I don’t know, maybe a certain hunk named Caelan?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think impress is the right word.”

  “Because he’s already impressed?”

  “Exactly.” Ally smiles to herself and then sighs, looking back at her bikini in the mirror. She whirls around absently and goes back over to her bag to look at the other swimsuits she brought with her.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re actually planning on seeing him today.”

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened between you two?”

  “I’m not ready to yet.” There’s a sheepishness in her voice that I haven’t heard many times before—and never about a guy.

  “Okay.” I shrug, but I keep my eyes on her as she tousles her hair and tries on two different pairs of sunglasses.

  “What about you and Andreas? You guys were all over each other at the club and then you looked awfully cozy on the beach.”

  “Ahh, we went back their villa—which is amazing, by the way. We ended up fooling around.” I cringe. I can’t think of a better way to say it.

  “That’s my girl,” she says, running her fingers through her hair yet again. I get the impression that she’s not really listening to me.

  “It was kind of weird though,” I say, stepping closer to Ally. I put one hand on her shoulder, and she briefly startles.

  “How so?” She turns and looks at me over the brims of her sunglasses.

  “Well, I wanted to keep it light and fun since it’s vacation, and I told him that I’d never had a one night stand before. Instead of agreeing to be my first, he proposed being together for the course of the vacation instead.”

  “And did you agree?” she prods.

  I nod. “I mean, kind of.” I lace my fingers together. “And then I left as soon as the sun rose. I just felt… strange about the whole thing.”

  “And he has your number?”

  “No.”

  “Good thing I have Caelan’s.” She winks at me. “Whether or not he can spend time with me… I’m not going to let you get out of having a little fun with your very own Prince Charming.”

  “He’s no Prince Charming. I think he’s rich, privileged… and smart. And funny,” I say. “I can’t quite think of an exact way to describe him, except that when I first say his face, I knew he was fun. And he is.” My voice trails off.

  “And? That sounds perfect. Trust me, Caelan is a little too intense for his own good.”

  “I’m not fun. I’d rather go to a history museum than a bar, and I’m more interested in getting my Ph.D. than getting in the B-E-D with anyone.”

  “Except for last night,” she says, smirking. “I think you were very interested. And I think you still are.”

  “Yeah, well. Maybe you’re right.”

  “I am,” Ally says. “I always am about stuff like this. Trust me. No matter how different you think he is, he’s into you. He li
kes you. You like him.” She shrugs again, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “And we’re going right on down to the beach. I’ve got a feeling they’ll be there.”

  “A feeling or a text?”

  “Maybe both.” She gives me a sly grin. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. “I packed a bag with towels and our IDs, a few traveler’s checks. Let’s go.”

  “God, fine.” I try to sound nonchalant, but inside, my heartbeat quickens, and that ache comes back to my core.

  If Andreas is at the beach would he want to see me again after how I left him this morning?

  That’s how I always think.

  But Ally doesn’t leave me time for that. Instead, she practically shoves me down the hall and into the elevator, and she links her arm with mine as we walk out into the sunshine and the bright, salty world of Ibiza.

  “Take it from me, Al. This guy is my complete opposite,” I say, biting my lip and looking over to the beach. “I doubt he’ll really have that much patience with an inexperienced girl like me.”

  “Someone’s hung up on talking about this,” she laughs.

  “Okay, no. I won’t mention it again.”

  “Maybe he’ll help bring you out of your shell.” Ally leads me down to Playa D’en Bossa, a neighborhood bordering our hotel, chatting about boys and the weather, the beach and the sky. I feel myself relax—in my entire life, I’ve never felt like I was on vacation, even when I was away.

  But now, knowing that we’re bound for a day at the beach—and that we’re headed to see Andreas again—I finally have that elusive feeling. It feels a little bit like flying.

  “Look, there’s that place, Passion—I was telling you about it on the plane. I read they have pear-strawberry smoothies that will blow your mind.”

  My stomach grumbles. I haven’t eaten since the middle of the night, and I giggle as Ally drags me along behind her into the café. No one bats an eye when we walk in wearing bikinis and sandals. We both try to order with our basic knowledge of Spanish, which results in both of us and the waiter laughing hysterically—and two of the most delicious smelling, brightly colored smoothies the world has ever seen.