Royal Arrangement #4

by Renna Peak

  But that was months ago. And there is still a faint echo of anger in my heart over how William decided to save the day by marrying me. I still remember how outraged I was that night—how it only got worse the next day when my father had guards posted at my door to ensure I wouldn’t slip away in the night. It wasn’t until a few days after that—when he’d hinted at his real plan—that I’d agreed to any of this. It was something about bringing shame to Montovia and restoring Rosvalia to its former glory. At the time, it all seemed to be the same rhetoric I’d heard from him and my brother Reginald my entire life—that everyone in Rosvalia would be lifted up if only Montovia could be brought down.

  I wish now I had asked about the particulars of the plan, not that he would have revealed any of it to me. But if I could at least warn my husband, or perhaps his brother Andrew…

  I’m pulled out of my near-trance by William’s squeeze of my hand. I look over at him, giving him the same plastic smile I’ve had plastered on my face all night. I haven’t been listening to the goings on at the table, and I’ve only been picking at my food. William, to his credit, hasn’t let go of my hand at all, and I’m certain that no one else at the table can tell.

  He leans over, his voice lowered so that my father doesn’t hear. “Are you all right? You haven’t touched a single thing.”

  I give him a quick nod and quickly pop a bite of the current course into my mouth. It only takes a moment to realize I’ve made a huge mistake. It’s some sort of seafood stew—and I’m fairly certain I’ve just swallowed a large piece of shrimp.

  I widen my fake smile and turn to my husband. “Is this…?” I clear my throat, lowering my voice. “Is there shrimp in this stew?”

  His eyes widen slightly, and he pulls his napkin from his lap, placing it onto the table. He stands, giving my father a shallow bow before he turns to King Edmund. “Pardon us, Father. Mother. I need to take my wife to the infirmary. I’ll check in with you later.”

  I’m fairly certain I feel my throat closing already. My face feels like it’s on fire, but I’m not sure if it’s from an allergic reaction or from the extreme embarrassment.

  Before I can protest, though, William is yanking at my arm and pulling me out of the dining room. He turns to me when we’re midway down the corridor. “Are you all right? Did something—?”

  I lift my hand to my throat to interrupt. Something is definitely happening.

  “You didn’t really eat shrimp, did you? My God, Justine. Your chest—your face.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I thought…I thought you were trying to get us out of dinner. But you weren’t trying to get us back to bed, were you?”

  I shake my head, but even as I do, my vision is tunneling, and blackness is closing in around it. I can hear myself wheezing—I have an emergency injection in my bag, but it’s all the way on the other side of the palace. And at the moment, I have no way of telling William what he needs to do—he really does need to get me to the physician as soon as possible.

  But I don’t have the chance to say it. The darkness envelops me, and the last thing I see before my sight goes black is William rushing toward me.

  I wake up in a brightly lit room with a woman I don’t recognize hovering over me. She nods and makes a sweeping motion with her arm.

  William is at my bedside a second later, and I realize she was allowing him in to see me.

  He sits next to me on the edge of the bed, caressing my face. “You frightened me.”

  “I… I’m sorry.” My throat is tight, scratchy, and I barely recognize my hoarse voice. “I didn’t know… I wasn’t paying attention.”

  He shakes his head. “I should have thought to call ahead to the kitchens. I should have warned them about your seafood allergy.”

  I reach for the glass of water on the table that is over my lap, but William takes it first and lifts it to my lips.

  I sip at the glass, trying to get the itchy feeling from my throat. As I lie back in the bed, I look up at him. “You don’t have to do that. I can drink water myself.”

  He smiles, but it isn’t his trademark grin. “I just want to help. It was terrible of me to put you through that—”

  I interrupt with a wave of my hand. “It was as much my fault for not carrying a bag with me. I carry the epinephrine with me everywhere I go—at least if there is any chance of having seafood. I suppose I was just…” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Distracted today.”

  He laughs and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. “I will carry some with me at all times from now on, I promise. I couldn’t bear to see you like this again.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments before he pulls my hand in his. “The physician said you’ll need to stay for several hours. She wants to give you some steroids or some such thing.” He nods toward my other arm, the one with the IV device connected to it. “But she did say I could stay with you until you’re ready to return to my—our—suite.” He grins. “Our suite. I do like the sound of that.” He pauses, his smile never falling. “Would you ever consider making a life here? In Montovia? I realize now is probably not the best time to ask such a thing.” He caresses my hair, trailing his finger down my cheek. “But perhaps now we can think about it.”

  I try to smile at him, but I can’t shake the feeling of guilt still churning in my gut. “William…”

  “Shh.” He grins down at me. “You don’t have to say anything now. Just think about it. You’d be far away from the influence of your family. And I can guarantee that my mother would love you. She already loves you.” His smile widens. “As do I.”

  “I…” I want so much to be honest with him, but I don’t know how. I don’t really even know what the truth is—but I suppose I need to tell him what I do know.

  “William—”

  “Not now, Justine. I only wanted to plant the seed. To have you at least consider the possibility.”

  I nod. “And I shall. Consider it, that is.” I take in a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

  He kisses my cheek, then my lips. “Anything.”

  I pull away from him slightly. “It’s important.”

  “Okay.” He nods, sitting himself upright. “You can tell me anything.”

  I nod. “You remember how I told you of my agreement with my father? That if I were to marry you, he’d allow me to attend graduate school in America?”

  He shrugs. “Yes, I believe we’ve already discussed this. And if that is what you really want to do, I’ll go with you.” His smile widens slightly, but I can see it’s forced. “I’ll find something to do with myself while you’re studying.”

  “I…” I frown. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about Yale yet. I…I don’t know.”

  His eyebrows draw together and his smile falls to a frown in an instant. “I don’t understand.”

  I nod. “I know. I…I have to tell you the rest of it. I mean, I don’t actually know the rest of it, only that I need to tell you.”

  He smiles again. “Perhaps whatever the doctor has given you has affected your thinking, my love. I think maybe you should just rest—”

  “There’s a plan, William. I don’t know what it is, I only know that there is one. I was to stay married to you for three months, and then my father—and probably Reginald, too—are going to do something. Something to ruin you and your family. Something to ruin Montovia.”

  William

  For a moment, I manage to convince myself that it’s the drugs talking, but the longer I look at her, the more serious I realize she is.

  King Maximilian is trying to take down Montovia.

  That knowledge doesn’t surprise me, of course—there’s always been tension between our two countries, and the last several decades have been a power tug-of-war. Montovia typically comes out on top, but I suspect that’s only served to make King Maximilian more determined. After all, we Montovians are not without fault—only a few months ago Andrew humiliated Justine, and by extension her entire family, on international
television.

  But it’s one thing to know that King Maximilian hates my family and another to know that he’s actively enacting a plan to take us down—and that he’s put Justine at the heart of it.

  I straighten, dropping her hand. “How long have you known about this? From the very beginning?”

  “I don’t know all the details,” she says, struggling onto her elbows. “I never did. You think my father would have explained everything to me?”

  “But you knew he was planning this,” I say, betrayal seeping into my belly. “You knew he had something up his sleeve.”

  “My father always has something up his sleeve.”

  “Stop dodging the question, Justine.”

  “I’m not dodging the question. I’ve told you everything I know. He’s up to something.”

  I stand, agitation rippling through me. “You’ve known about this since before we were married.”

  “Yes. But—”

  “There’s no but about it. You knew about this. First you lied to me about Yale, then about being on birth control, and now about your father’s plans. How many more life-altering things are you keeping from me?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” I jerk a hand through my hair. “Why bother telling me at all?”

  She forces herself up to a full-seated position. “Because I want us to stop it! Why do you think?”

  I stare at her for a long moment, still trying to understand everything. The sting of her betrayal still burns inside me, but I try to force myself to look past it. She’s right—she did choose to tell me. And now I have a choice—to believe her, to transfer my anger where it really belongs, or to widen the gap between us. A choice between love and anger.

  Looking down at her, I know my heart only has one option.

  I choose love.

  “Okay,” I say, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “Then what are we going to do about it? How can we stop him?”

  Relief floods her eyes, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “I don’t know exactly what he has planned. But we can probably start by learning what he’s told your father.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard.” I sit back down, thinking. “My father would probably tell me outright, given that I’m now married into your family.”

  She nods. “And I’ll see what I can learn from my father. He doesn’t usually tell me his plans, not like with Reginald, but maybe…” She frowns.

  “Maybe what?”

  “Maybe if he thought I would help…” She shakes her head. “It’s a long shot, but he knows things have been a little rocky between us. Maybe if he believes I hate you and still have every intention of leaving this marriage, he’ll let some things slip. I could even offer to help. After all, there have been a few fairly public incidents between us these past few weeks. He’ll have every reason to believe we aren’t getting along.”

  “Even though we showed up here together?”

  “There are plenty of excuses for that,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I could tell him we fled here to escape the embarrassment caused by the fire alarm incident at my conference.”

  My cheeks go hot. “I know that was out of line, but—”

  “Of course, we’ll need to be less affectionate with each other in public. And it will probably help if I request a separate suite while we’re here. Anything that’ll make my father believe we’re struggling. Maybe we can even stage an argument—something semi-public—and I can tell my father I want to leave the marriage earlier than expected. Yes, that might be perfect. If I can convince him I hate you, he might allow me to be privy to his true plans.”

  I frown. “This seems…excessive. Is that what you really want? To sleep in separate rooms and argue with each other?”

  “It’s not going to be real,” she says. “We can plan out the argument in advance. And as for the rooms… We just need the servants to spread the word that we’re sleeping in different places. We don’t actually have to sleep in different places.”

  “So you want me to sneak in and out of your guest suite every night?” I ask. I’ll admit, the idea does have a certain wicked appeal. That’s one way to add a little extra heat to our marriage.

  “The point is just to convince my father that I’d be willing to help him with his plans,” she says. “It’s the only way we’re going to find out what he’s actually up to.”

  I reach out and take her hand again, lacing my fingers through hers. I have to admit—though it does sound like a solid plan, the idea of even pretending to hate her isn’t very exciting, especially since we finally seem to be on the same page. I was enjoying being affectionate with her, and I don’t want that to end.

  But if King Maximilian means to take down Montovia… A couple months of pleasure with Justine won’t be enough to withstand the damage her father is sure to cause. I’m not sure our relationship will survive whatever he has planned.

  “You’re right,” I say finally, sliding my thumb across the back of her palm. “I’ll speak to the servants immediately about arranging a separate suite for you. And maybe…” I glance around, assuring myself that we’re currently the only ones within earshot. “I know a few members of the staff who, at my urging and with no questions asked, would spread word that they’d overhead us arguing. Honestly, you can trust any servant in this palace, but some are more discreet than others, and I think we should tread carefully. If half the palace knows this is a ruse, word will certainly get back to your father, even if my people have the best of intentions.”

  She nods, but there’s something in her eyes that troubles me—something almost sad.

  I lean forward, bringing my face to hers. “I hate that we have to do this so soon,” I murmur. “I was beginning to get used to holding your hand. And having conversations that weren’t arguments.”

  She gives a small smile. “Me too.”

  “I’ll sneak into your room every night,” I promise her. “And then we’ll shower each other with the affection we couldn’t all day.”

  “I’m looking forward to that.”

  I kiss her gently. My body aches for more, but I’m afraid to kiss her too passionately right now—she has no idea what it did to me, seeing her face puff up like that, watching her lose consciousness, thinking for a split second that I was about to lose her forever.

  I lean back, then help her back down onto the pillows.

  “Get some rest,” I tell her. “I’ll get everything arranged.”

  She nods, but there are still shadows in her eyes. It makes my heart ache.

  Please let this be the right thing, I think. Let love and goodness win.

  And telling myself that I’m doing what my beloved wife wants, I leave to go arrange for her new suite.

  Justine

  I’m held in the palace infirmary for far too long, and it isn’t until after the end of the sleepless night that the physician sees fit to release me.

  William didn’t return to me last night, and I can’t deny the aching in my heart. Though he sent me a note, telling me he loved me and that we would figure everything out, I know there is still a part of him—no matter how small—that is angry with me again. And I also know that this time I deserve it. I should have told him from the start about my father’s ruse, but I couldn’t see past my own anger long enough to do the right thing until now.

  I’m led to my guest suite, and I’m immediately sorry I suggested staying in my own guest quarters. I’m alone in a huge suite on the opposite side of the palace as William’s rooms. I long for him to hold me, to take me in his arms and reassure me.

  There’s a note on the table from William, and my heart turns a cartwheel, knowing his anger from last night must have faded somewhat.

  * * *

  I’ll see you tonight, my love. Rest well. –W

  * * *

  I head for bed, though I’m not sure I’ll sleep at all. I’m still feeling a bit wired from
the medications and excited at the thought of seeing my husband.

  Sleep must find me eventually, though, because the next thing I know, a maid is at my door with dinner. I suppose the combination of having an allergic reaction last night and going without sleep for much of it made me more tired than I’d realized. But it doesn’t escape me that William never came to my room as he’d promised.

  I smile at the young maid as she sets the trays in the sitting room. She gives me a polite curtsy and begins to hurry from the room before I stop her.

  “Wait!” I rush over to the door. “I…” I force another smile at the young woman. “Would you happen to know if the royal family is having dinner together?”

  She gives me another shallow curtsy. “I believe so, Your Highness.”

  Then why was I not invited? I can hardly ask the maid that, of course—or perhaps I can. Maybe it will help me to show my father there is a large rift between William and me as we’d planned.

  I pause, trying to carefully formulate my words. “Do you… Do you know if my husband is at dinner without me?”

  “I cannot say for certain, Your Highness, but I believe he is. Would you like me to have him paged to your room—?”

  “No.” I interrupt. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t want to interrupt a formal dinner.” That I should have been invited to, regardless of whether or not I would have attended. “Do you by chance know if my father is in attendance at dinner tonight?”

  “That, I do not, Your Highness.” She curtsies again. “Is there anything else I might assist you with tonight, Your Highness?”

  I shake my head. “No, I suppose not.” I have no idea whether or not she is one of the staff that might start a rumor, but I suppose it won’t hurt to try. “If you should see my husband…” I look the woman up and down for a moment, then think better of this idiotic plan. “Never mind. Have a lovely evening.”