Royal Arrangement #4

by Renna Peak

  She crosses her arms and gives me a wry look. “Oh really, Your Highness?”

  “I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.” I grin. “Come on—if I’m remembering correctly, there’s a lovely restaurant just around the corner. You must be starving—when was the last time you had anything to eat?”

  “Well, I…” She shakes her head. “I did eat breakfast—”

  “Hours and hours ago. Have you had anything since?”

  Her expression belies anything she might say. I imagine she’s completely ravenous, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

  “Come,” I say, gently taking her arm. “We can just order appetizers, if you like. Just something to tide you over.” Of course, I have every intention of wooing her into a four-course meal—and drinks afterward—but we need to take this one step at a time.

  “I…I guess I could do something small,” she says. “But I don’t want to go anywhere fancy. I’m not exactly dressed for it.” She looks down at her clothes—like me, she’s still in the same thing she was wearing when I pulled the fire alarm. It’s slightly wrinkled from the wear and tear it endured today, but I still think she looks beautiful.

  “We’re royals,” I remind her. “We could show up in burlap sacks and they’d treat us well.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not sure I want that kind of attention right now.” She glances around. “Can’t we just find a little shop or food stall or something?”

  “If my wife wishes it,” I say, my grin widening as I bow. “Tonight you get whatever you desire.”

  She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tilt up—she’s fighting a smile. “You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?”

  “That’s the plan. Insufferably charming and attentive.”

  I can see the exact moment she decides to trust me, the moment she lets the last of her uncertainty and fear melt away. The moment she decides to forgive me for my jealous stupidity and embrace what could be, if only for tonight. It happens bit by bit—a relaxing of her shoulders, a hopeful glow in her eyes, and finally, a slow but genuine smile.

  I feel something unfurl in me, too, in response to her growing openness. And I feel more connected to her now, watching her decide to trust me, than I ever have before.

  She reaches her hand out, taking mine.

  “Okay then, Prince Charming,” she says warmly. “Let’s get some food.”

  I lead her down the street. This isn’t quite what I had in mind for our date, but I’m just grateful she agreed to this at all. Baby steps.

  Fortunately, within two blocks we stumble across one of the city’s famous Christmas markets—stalls upon stalls of food, crafts, and other goods set up in the square in front of a church. It looks similar to the one we enjoyed in the Hall last week, only four times larger. When I remember how much Justine and I enjoyed ourselves there—at least before I punched James Camden—I realize the universe has given me a second chance. And if the universe can, why can’t Justine?

  “What’ll it be?” I ask her as we head into the crowd. “Sausages? Pretzels? Soup?” A spicy scent drifts by on the cool breeze. “We should definitely get some of that mulled wine.”

  Justine doesn’t immediately answer. But when I look down at her, worried, I find her glancing around excitedly, her eyes bright. I had a large lunch with Sophia and Nicholas, and even I am pleasantly overwhelmed by the delicious smells here. Justine is practically drooling.

  Suddenly, she springs into action, grabbing my hand. “This way.”

  I’m only too happy to let her lead the way through the crowd. She drags me right over to a stall of sausages.

  But we don’t stop there. Within an hour, we’ve tried multiple sausages, kartoffelknödel, spätzle, and some stollen cake. We’ve also each had a mug of mulled wine and a couple of pints of beer.

  As we munch on a bag of candied nuts, Justine leads me over to a small fountain at the edge of the square. We sit on the edge and watch some musicians play as the crowd laughs and dances and moves through the stalls around us.

  Justine is in a much better mood now that she’s eaten—and I’m sure the alcohol has helped, too. The mulled wine is much stronger here than it was in Rosvalia, and on top of the beer, I’ve got a nice, pleasant buzz going. I lean back on my hands, pretending to watch the crowd but secretly sneaking glances at my wife.

  A look of pure pleasure crosses her face as she pops several more nuts into her mouth. It strikes me, suddenly, how little pleasure she must see on a day to day basis—between her family and her duties to her country, she has little chance for fun. Few opportunities to do something solely for herself. In a way, she reminds me of my brother Andrew—so dedicated and determined, yet so afraid of letting go, even for a moment.

  I want to be the pleasure in her life. I want to bring her joy and fun—not more duty and pain.

  The sun has set beyond the buildings, but there are still plenty of lights here in the square. The warm lamplight shines off Justine’s hair and brings a golden color to her cheeks. She always looks beautiful to me, but there’s something especially enchanting about her now.

  She turns and offers me the bag of nuts, her eyebrows raised in a question. I shake my head and pat my stomach. “I’m full, but thank you.”

  “I can’t believe I can out-eat you,” she says, still smiling.

  “Well, I did have most of the stollen.”

  “These are way better than the stollen.”

  “Good thing I’m such a generous husband, then. Prince Charming always makes sure his Princess gets the very best.”

  She laughs. God, it’s such a beautiful sound. I could listen to it all night.

  “You’re funny,” she says. “But perhaps not as funny as you think you are.”

  “Says who?”

  She laughs again, then finishes off the rest of the nuts. I look up at the sky. There’s too much light pollution to see more than a handful of stars, but I know they’re there.

  “Well then, Prince Charming,” she says teasingly. “Where to next?”

  I’m so surprised to hear her suggest we continue our date that I almost tumble backwards into the empty fountain. “Wherever you like, Princess.”

  “So you’re leaving all the hard work of planning this date to me, is that it?” she says, her tone still light and teasing.

  “Not at all.” I grab her hand. “I just want to make sure my wife gets whatever she desires.” I raise her hand to my lips, kissing her gently on the back of her knuckles. I feel a shiver move through her skin, and she quickly yanks her hand out of mine.

  “Well,” she says, leaping to her feet. “Let’s go, then.”

  I smile as I rise. She’s still fighting this connection between us, but her defenses are slowly going down. I take her hand and lead her back into the crowd.

  As we pass by the small stage with the musicians, though, I twist and pull her into my arms, spinning her around to the music. She falls right into step, never missing a beat as I twirl her. Her laughter rises over the music.

  “Dancing won’t work on me every time,” she says, her eyes bright.

  “Won’t it?” I grin and spin her again. The crowd is so thick that she bumps into someone else, but that just makes her laugh even harder.

  “Watch it,” she teases. “You can’t just throw me into people.”

  “That was entirely your fault, Princess.”

  “Was it, now?”

  When I step on the foot of a man passing by, she breaks into giggles again. “That was definitely your fault.”

  “Nonsense. That man purposefully got in my way.”

  “Maybe you just aren’t as graceful as you think you are.”

  “Graceful? Men are never graceful. We prefer to be called athletic, or—”

  “Aw, did I hurt your ego, Prince Charming?”

  She’s still laughing, so as revenge, I spin her again. She narrowly avoids a couple of children, but she catches herself before tripping over them.
She gives me a look that tells me she blames me for that one, too, and I realize I’m laughing as much as she is.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or the delicious food. Or simply the infectious, festive spirit of this Christmas market. But I feel as if our cares are far away, as if every rough moment Justine and I have experienced since we married is long in the past. This, right here, is real. And it’s pure joy.

  Finally, we’re forced to admit that this crowded space in front of the musicians isn’t exactly conducive to dancing—at least any dancing that requires anything more than bobbing in place. Hooking my arm through hers, I pull her out of the crowd and toward the edge of the square.

  We stumble down the street, still laughing as we cling to each other. When we get to the corner, I realize I have no idea where we are—or where the hotel is from here. I should probably call a taxi, but I’m not even sure I remember the name of the hotel right now.

  And I’m not even sure I want to go there, anyway.

  “Well,” I say, stopping and turning to her. “The night is still young. Perhaps we can find a little coffee bar and drink the hours away. Or perhaps…”

  Her eyes shine up at me. “Perhaps what?”

  “Come away with me,” I say abruptly. “Somewhere far away, where we don’t know anyone else. Somewhere just the two of us. We never did have a proper honeymoon.”

  I can almost see her defenses go up again. There’s still the shadow of a smile on her lips, still a brightness in her eyes, but she’s more guarded now. Have I pushed her too far?

  “I…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says.

  “Why not? Surely two newlyweds can take a few days to themselves and get to know each other a little better. We’ll charter a plane. We can go anywhere—the Swiss Alps, or somewhere in the Caribbean, or a resort in Bali. Just say the word, and I’ll take you there.” I cup her face, tilting her chin up. “I want to do this right, Justine. I want to be your Prince Charming. But you have to let me.”

  Justine

  I search his eyes. So many emotions are churning inside me, and I’m not entirely sure what any of them are.

  “I…” I can’t seem to find the words, nor can I seem to be able to decide what it is I want to do.

  “Say the word, Princess.” He grins—I think we’ve both realized he’s not using the term princess in the same derogatory way he has been since our wedding. “Let me show you what I’ve already come to realize.” His hand is still cupping my cheek, and he looks down into my eyes.

  “And what might that be?” I can’t help but return his smile. This night has been so different from our other attempts at just having fun for the sake of it. Something has changed, though I’m still not certain I trust him entirely.

  “Let me show you that I believe we are meant for each other.” He’s still grinning, but there is something else in his eyes. Some passion I haven’t noticed before.

  My cheeks burn—it’s probably the alcohol, but perhaps there is something else. I shouldn’t feel embarrassed around him. I shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting him the way I do—we are married after all—but something still nags at me, twisting in my stomach.

  “Just say the word, Princess.”

  “I think—”

  “I think you need to stop thinking.” He smiles down at me. “So what will it be? Somewhere tropical? A mountain cabin? A resort? A—?”

  “I…I don’t think we can.” I frown as I reach up to pull his hand from my face. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “What is there about going away with my wife that is a bad idea? Think of it—there will be no one watching us. We’ll have no distractions. We can enjoy the company of each other.” He gives me a suggestive look. “We can really enjoy the company of each other.”

  “To put a small male heir in my womb, no doubt.” I take a step away from him. “I think that perhaps we should just return to Rosvalia. You’re right—I have no business being here. I never should have come in the first place.” I begin walking back toward the market—the train station isn’t too far a walk.

  He catches up to me and pulls my hand into his as we walk. “Or we could go to the hotel. Your suitcase is already there. And if you still feel you must have a separate bed, we can just see that we get a room with at least two. One for each of us. And of course, should you get cold during the night…”

  I have to hide my smile by shaking my head. “You have a one-track mind, Your Highness.”

  He shrugs. “I am a man. I do think of other things on occasion, though. That spätzle was awfully delicious.”

  “Hm.” I look over at him as we walk. “It’s good to know your tastes are simple. If food and sex are all you think about, it makes you fairly easy to figure out.”

  “Well…” He grins at me. “They aren’t necessarily in that order. Most of the time, it’s the other way around. But there are occasions were food wins out, mostly because to actually have sex, you do require a fair bit of nutritional intake.”

  I shake my head and bite my lip to cover my own grin.

  “And what things do you think about, Princess?”

  I sigh. “My country. The people who live there. My family. World peace.” I shrug. “Simple things.”

  “You left out poetry.” He grins over at me again. “And obviously sex.”

  “Hm. I suppose I’m not quite as single minded—”

  “Though you did bring up the male heir discussion. That does involve your country and the people who live there. Also your family. And you know what, Princess?”

  I shake my head, already not liking where this discussion is going. “What?”

  He pulls me toward him, twirling me around as if we’re dancing. After he spins me, he pulls me tightly to his chest, dipping his mouth to my ear. “It also involves sex.”

  I shove him away, but he grabs me by the hand before he gets too far.

  We begin walking again, and he clucks his tongue at me. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through, Princess.”

  “Oh really?” I shoot a glare at him. “And you know this because…?”

  “Because… If you had considered the consequences of Reginald becoming king, you’d have wanted me to start giving you heirs weeks ago. We could have already been on our way to our first little boy—”

  I stop walking abruptly, turning to face him. “I have considered the consequences, Your Highness. Reginald has been trained from birth to rule Rosvalia, and I’m certain he’ll do a fine job—”

  “If he doesn’t gamble away what little your country has left, you mean?” He chuckles. “You do know that part of the reason we were married was because of his gambling problem, right?”

  I shake my head in disgust and start walking again. “I’m not discussing this with you. Not now and not ever.”

  “Not ever?” He grabs me by the elbow, stopping me from walking before he turns me to face him. “We will discuss this, Princess. Perhaps not tonight—”

  “I mean it, William. Drop it.”

  “I’ll not. I deserve to have a say in this, Justine. I…I gave up my life for you and your country. And I do want to have children—not only for the sake of making an heir, just for the sake of…having them. The least you can do for me—”

  “Is what I’ve already done. I’ve given myself to you twice. And look at me…” I motion with a wave over my midsection. “You haven’t given me a child—”

  “Yet. And twice is not technically trying.”

  I glare at him again, wishing he could understand how painful it is for me to even speak of having children. If he only knew the truth…

  No. This is not the time or place for this discussion—he doesn’t need to know the sad story of my past. Besides, there’s no need to tell him the other truth—that he won’t be knocking me up any time soon.

  He’s grinning again. “Were we to take our honeymoon, it might well give us a head start on the trying for an heir. I’ve actually been researching the ways to ensure we conceive a male
. Some of them are just crazy, but some of them seem at least plausible—”

  “Do you even hear yourself? You’re researching ways to give me a male heir?” I shake my head again. “It isn’t me with the concerns about ruling, Your Highness. No, clearly it’s you.”

  He nods. “It’s true. Once I learned that you were actually next in line for the throne, I couldn’t help but—”

  “See yourself as king one day?”

  His grin finally falls. “I know I’ll never be king of Rosvalia, Justine. But it does do my heart some good knowing that our child will be an heir. A Montovian heir to the throne of Rosvalia.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it makes you feel quite a lot more…” I lift my eyes to the starry sky, trying to come up with a word. “Secure.” How can he not hear the pain in my voice at even discussing the possibility of having children? How can he not see it in my eyes?

  He frowns at me. “What would be the harm in trying?”

  “The harm, Your Highness, is that I’m not prepared to have a child. I’m still considering graduate school—”

  “A decision you’ll abandon after our honeymoon, I assure you.” His blue eyes bore into mine.

  “How do I get this through to you, William? There will be no honeymoon. I realize it is what you want—”

  “It is.”

  I try not to roll my eyes again, instead choosing to ignore his words.

  “Answer me this, Princess.”

  I shake my head but turn to him. “What?”

  “What if you were wrong? About me? What if what happened to us—the arrangement that we both agreed to—turns out to be much more than either of us could have hoped or imagined?”

  “So what if it is, Your Highness? How does that change anything?”

  He grins. “I’ll choose to ignore the fact you answered my very serious question with two of your own.”

  I frown. “Why is everything a joke to you?”