Accidental Princess: A Hidden Kingdom Novel

by Lexi Whitlow

  I start to play with her clit as I keep up my pace with my cock. Freya goes wild when I start to rub her clit fast and hard. I want to feel her coming apart on top of me, with all of me inside. She doesn’t disappoint. Her body seizes up and her nails dig into my chest but I don’t stop. She cums so damned hard and I can’t get enough.

  Before I know it, I’m cumming too. I almost pass out from how intense it is. It’s never been this good before and I’m pretty sure we just set a new personal record for us. One that I hope to beat time and time again.

  Freya collapses on the bed next to me and we’re both laying there winded and completely spent, but in the best way.

  “What do we do now?” I ask, nuzzling her neck.

  “I have an idea and it just might be crazy enough to work in our favor,” she says, hopefully.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s hear it then.”

  23

  Freya

  You can stay here in Glasgow during graduate school?”

  “If they accept me,” Andreas says. He brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear and kisses my cheek.

  “You’re a prince of Bellecoaste. Why wouldn’t you be accepted?”

  “I’d rather they accept me on my merits.”

  “They might,” I say, grinning.

  “Yeah, they might. But yeah, I can stay here. That’s what they say on the website.”

  I lift up on one elbow. “If we’re both planning on attending graduate school here, then we can stay here.”

  “Yes. It’ll be home. For both of us.”

  “We can be official—but only on one condition,” I say to Andreas. “We have to get your parents on board with the plan.”

  “Simple enough,” Andreas answers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “It might not be simple. But if we want to be official, we need to make it happen.”

  Andreas sighs. “I’m sure that once they meet you, they’ll feel the same way about you that I do. I think that both of us living here together is… a great idea. But getting there might be a process.”

  “That’s fine,” I say. “I’m sure meeting a king and queen and convincing them that I’m not after their son for his money and title will be super manageable.”

  Andreas laughs. “And after that?”

  “You can commute when you need to. And we can set up an office in that room,” I say, pointing to the nearly empty room at the end of the hallway.

  “Yes,” he says. “We can.” He pulls me in close and kisses me, long and tender.

  “You sound pretty confident. So, it’s decided then. We’ll stay here.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be confident?” he asks.

  “Well, there is the fact that your parents just tried to pay me off,” I say.

  “Ah yes. But here we are. We’re still with each other. And we’re married. They can’t take that away, whether or not they approve. I’ll wear them down until they do approve. They are human. At least I think.”

  “That makes me feel soooo much better,” I laugh. “Thank you though, for offering to go to battle for me, for us.”

  “Absolutely. You’re kinda worth it,” he smiles and kisses my hand.

  He sits back against the head board. I straddle his lap and look him straight into those green eyes. “If I wasn’t clear enough before, let me be now. I’m not going to lie, I’ve had my reservations about being married to royalty.”

  “I don’t see why. It’s not at all complicated. Just a few royal gatherings here and there, some international travel, and we’ll teach you how to wave just right—”

  “Shut up—I was telling you something—”

  “Then by all means, continue.” We dissolve into laughter and he kisses me hard.

  I pull back, some of those old butterflies coming back to my stomach. “I’m a bookworm. I prefer the library over clubs. I’m shy, and I probably won’t figure out how to wave just right because I’ll be too self conscious. I wear t-shirts and sweats.”

  “And I love you exactly as you are. T-shirts and all.”

  “Shush,” I say, putting a finger to his lips. “There’s a lot to being a royal, more than you understand—because you’ve lived it your whole life. But I love you.” My voice falters at that last part. “And I’ll do what I can to try.”

  I lean in and kiss him. When I pull back he’s got the biggest smile on his face.

  “I love you too, Freya,” he says to me. “After I lied to you about who I was I wasn’t sure that you’d ever grant me forgiveness but somehow you have, and I’ll be forever grateful. I’ve never felt this way for anyone else before and you own my heart fully. I want to spend my life with you making memories. You push me to be a better version of myself and I like that. I thought I was happy with the life I was living but I wasn’t really living until you came along and shook up everything in the best way. I promise that I’ll help you navigate life as a royal as best I can,” he promises, sealing it with a soft kiss. “I feel like we just renewed our vows,” he chuckles.

  “It did kind of sound like that,” I joke.

  “Why don’t we go to Bellecoaste for the summer? We can kill two birds with one stone. First, we can gain my parents’ approval and then we can get married at the end of the summer. That should be plenty of enough time for things to get planned.”

  “We’re already married.”

  “An official Bellecoastean ceremony. With Ally and Caelan arguing the entire time and your friends. Your family.”

  I frown. “Maybe just my friends. You don’t know my mom.” My heart beats hard, thinking about it.

  “Yeah. Once we get my parents’ official approval, we can go public. If you want.”

  “I think we can do that.”

  “We might already be married, but it will be expected of me to give the country, the people, a real wedding. It’s protocol and it helps to allow the common wealth to feel like they’re involved in the proceedings. Reporters will want to do interviews and find out all the details, it will be a holiday and everyone in Bellecoaste will have the day off to celebrate with us.”

  “A big white dress and everything?” I ask. I close my eyes and try to imagine it. I like the idea, in a way—this time, we’ll at least be able to choose the time and place.

  “Most definitely. And I can’t wait to see you dressed in white walking down the aisle towards me,” Andreas admits.

  I picture it in my head and I can’t wait either. Neither one of us could remember our actual wedding so having a big grand one sounds perfect to me. That way we’ll both be able to remember the event for the rest of our lives.

  “So, let’s go to Bellecoaste then,” I say. “I just need two weeks to finish up my last class. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. Let’s just plan on leaving right after that. The sooner we can get there and get this figured out the better.”

  “I can’t wait,” I say, smiling big.

  “Right now, I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you again, and then maybe again later too,” he croons in my ear.

  It sets my insides on fire and we proceed to get lost in each other again and again until we’re exhausted and spent.

  And totally content.

  24

  Andreas

  I don’t think I’ve ever done a staycation anywhere before. It’s not something that princes do. But that’s what we’ve been doing—me and Freya. Me and my wife.

  I look over at her, watching her as she reads a book about medieval Scottish history. She wears a pair of purple-rimmed glasses, and her dark hair cascades over her back. She’s wearing a beat-up t-shirt from the Museum of Scotland, her long legs draped over the arm of the soft leather chair she’s grown to love.

  I have my laptop and papers for the program spread out. I’ve been working on an essay for my very first class on international relations between Bellecoaste, Aegis, The Northern Islands and Cymrea. All of the so-called “Hidden Kingdoms” that ar
e coming into the forefront of European politics.

  I’ve been enjoying the hell out of it. I even interviewed my old friend Matthias from the Islands and got in touch with the crown prince of Cymrea for input on his country’s growth. Prince Owen sounds like he has a royal scandal of his very own—but gossip isn’t my specialty.

  But all of this relaxation ends today.

  We’re leaving today on a chartered plane—bound for Bellecoaste.

  “Bag’s packed?” I ask her.

  She lowers her glasses and looks up at me. “That’s today?”

  “Yes.” I smile and finish the final sentence in my paper. Freya knows all too well what’s happening today. Her eyes got wide when I first told her about the chartered plane, but she’s grown used to the idea that we have to appear royal this summer.

  Not that she’s thrilled about it—but we’ve come to our agreements, and things will be okay.

  “Time to get ready, I guess,” she says, looking at her phone. She yawns and saunters to the bedroom, selecting one of the dresses Ally helped her select for the trip.

  She hides it well, but I know she’s nervous. My parents have begrudgingly accepted that I’m married to a commoner, and they said they’d welcome her if it’s what I truly wanted. But they’re intimidating—not because they mean to be—but because they’re so far removed from anything that Freya has ever known.

  And it took a lot of talking—from me and from their favorite, Caelan—to get them to understand that Freya had no intentions of taking anything from me or harming our family in any way.

  I walk into the bedroom behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. The soft knit white and yellow dress suits her perfectly, and she wears soft hints of makeup. She’s obsessively combing out her hair but turns to me at my touch.

  “Everything will be fine, Frey. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

  She puts her hand on top of mine. “Even if they don’t, I’ll know that you love me. And perhaps that’s enough.”

  “It is,” I say. “Enough and more.”

  The flight is short and uneventful—and Freya holds my hand as we start to descend at the Bellecoaste National Airport. There’s a limo waiting for us when we arrive at our gate, and Freya gives me a nervous look.

  “Will there be press?”

  “Mother and Father made sure there wouldn’t be,” I say. My chest clenches, and I want to hold her, protect her from all of this. But we’ve both signed on—for real—and there’s no avoiding what happens next.

  “It’s the exact opposite from landing in Ibiza, but beautiful none the less,” Freya says as she looks out the window.

  I look out the window and try to see Bellecoaste from her perspective. The sky is blue, flowers dot the landscape and the architecture is a mix of French, German, and Renaissance Bellecoastan. It’s quaint and charming, inviting the eye to look a little more for the finer details. The roses of summer have just begun to bloom, and the fine purple tulips are still in full array. A light breeze sweeps across the landscape, and we enter the tiny town before the castle. The houses are in the old European style, with the clay walls preserved for the past several centuries by our architectural council.

  “It is quite captivating isn’t it?” I feel like I see it through new eyes, and there’s a warmth that comes over me. It is good to be home.

  “Without question.” She’s silent after that and looks at the Bellecoastean landscape as we pass through town. “It’s like a fairy tale,” she says after a while, chuckling gently. “Ally’s going to be pissed that I got to see it first.”

  As we approach the castle, we see people waving and cheering. They might not know that my wife is inside, but they do know the royal limo all too well.

  “Do they… do they know that I’m here?”

  “They will soon enough, but no. There’s a royal crest on the license plate, so they know that one of the princes is passing through.”

  “Right then,” she says. “So much to learn.”

  “You got this,” I say. “Remember, it’s just you and me, and I’ve got your back the whole way.”

  We pull up to the palace and wait for the door to open. When it does, I get out and take Freya’s hand. I keep her hand in mine as we approach the guards and the tall stone doors of the castle. The doors slowly swing open before we even get there and we walk inside.

  “Alan, good to see you.” I clap our long-time butler on his shoulder.

  He gives me a wry smile. “Bonjour, your highness.” He gives me a deep, formal bow.

  “Cut the crap, Alan. May I present my wife, the lady Freya Hoffman.”

  “I didn’t say I was taking your last name,” Freya says, dropping my hand.

  I give Freya a big smile. “I didn’t think you would. But let’s at least tell my parents otherwise.”

  Alan laughs long and loud. “I like this one, Andreas. She seems to have her wits about her. That’s what you need. A good woman to improve you.”

  “I did—and I do. Any idea where my parents are?”

  “They’re waiting for you in the Blue Salon. They’re expecting you and Lady Freya. But you and your lady can take your time.”

  He watches as Freya inspects one of the side tables in the castle foyer. “This is—astounding.”

  “One of the pieces from the twelfth century, when the castle was first built,” Alan says. “Still stunning, isn’t it?”

  “So sturdy… but the scrollwork is still impeccable.”

  Alan nods, still smiling. He winks at me.

  I know Freya will have a lot to take in. I’ve always taken it all for granted, playing hide and seek through all the rooms and banging into the antique furniture with Caelan. There were secret passages for us to escape through as teenagers, and room upon room of historical wonders we completely ignored.

  “She’s smart, this one,” Alan says, nodding to Freya.

  “Yes, yes, she is. Smarter than I am by a long shot. She’s got me taking classes and planning for the future—”

  “The king and queen will love her. I swear it.”

  “Don’t swear anything, Alan. Might not work out. If they have half a brain, they will. But sometimes I’m doubtful about Father.”

  Alan chuckles and shushes me as I take Freya’s arm and lead her down the candlelit main hallway.

  We go through the East wing to the Blue Salon, where the attendant announces us before we enter. I’m holding Freya’s hand tight because I want her to feel how solid I am in supporting her and us. I know that she’s nervous about this and I’m trying to make it as smooth and easy as possible. Now it’s just up to convincing my parents.

  My mother, Queen Louisa, sits in a window seat, looking out at the rose garden below. I know for a fact that this is her favorite spot to look at the garden from the entire castle. My father, King Cedric, by contrast sits in a winged back chair, smoking a cigar and reading some sort of paperwork. For as long as I can remember, this is how they’ve always looked.

  They stand up when we are announced and huge smiles light up their faces when they see me. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, and I didn’t realize how much I’ve actually missed them until now. My mother comes up and gives me a hug—unusual for her—and when she finally lets me go my father wraps me up in his huge arms and does the same.

  “My son! My love, how long it’s been!” Mother cries happily. “I’ve missed you so! I’m so glad that you’re back once again.”

  “I agree with your mother, it’s been far too long, son,” Father says to me. He glances to Freya and then back to me. “And this must be Freya? Am I correct?” he asks.

  I look back and grab Freya’s hand again. “Mother, Father, I would like to introduce you to Freya Ellis, my wife.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Freya,” Mother says, but her voice is colder than it was when she first saw me.

  “Likewise,” Father agrees.

  Freya smiles but I can tell she’s trying her best not to lose
it. “It’s nice to meet you as well,” she manages to get out. She tries to curtsy but stumbles just a little.

  We make small talk and sit together, take tea and cake as the afternoon bell rings. No one mentions the phone call; I know that she’s thinking about it.

  “The tea is… very nice,” Freya says. “And the cake.”

  “Yes, well,” Mother says, “It’s our special Bellecoaste blend. Nothing like it in Scotland. Or America.”

  “No, certainly not.” I can almost hear Freya’s anxiety in her voice.

  “And the cake was made special today. We might break open a bottle of wine before dinner. Isn’t that what you’re here for, Freya? To enjoy Bellecoaste?”

  I try to break the tension. “I know this is unusual. I hadn’t intended things to go like this…” I start. I pull Freya close and take her hand again. “But I love Freya, and she and I would like your approval.”

  My parents look at one another but don’t say anything, like they’re silently having their own conversation.

  “How long have you two known each other?” Mother asks coolly.

  “I’ve told you many times that we met in Ibiza while Freya was on vacation.

  “Yes, you said. I find it hard to believe you’d be so quick to jump into things, Andreas,” Father says. “You never took the family as seriously as Caelan does, but we had hoped you’d take your time in finding a suitable match.

  “And how did you come to get married? Some kind of joke?” Father questions.

  “As I said, it was a contest. We won a ceremony and decided to marry on the beach that night.” I leave out the part about both of us being far too sloshed to remember it.

  The maid brings in more tea and another tray of snacks, which I help myself to. I grab a macaron and give it to Freya. She takes it and just holds it, her hands shaking.

  “Have you told her what being married to a Prince entails? It’s not something to just be taken lightly, to decide you don’t want after you’ve already agree to,” Mother says. “You’ve told us your story time and time again on the phone, but it doesn’t ring true.”