“Am I?” I shook my head. “I’m leaving.”
Mother rose from her seat, visibly shaking with rage. “And where exactly do you think you’re leaving to, young lady?”
I turned on my heel and started away. I wasn’t going to answer them. I was so done. Politics and power had twisted my parents’ views of the world, changed who they were. A lifetime ago, our families were closer than ever. It was truly remarkable and horrendous what time and distance could do.
Togveld Fortress wasn’t exactly a fortress. Not anymore. Centuries ago, it stood as the militaristic pride of Brooklandia. The Royal Family actually used to call Togveld Fortress their home, members of the aristocracy having been housed in the many rooms and wings made of cold grey stone. Now, all that remained of the original structure was the guard’s tower. After numerous sieges and tumultuous weather, it was the only thing to survive. A more modern correctional facility had been constructed around the tower, the tall brick building hosting rows upon rows of highly-secured prison cells.
I had to argue with the warden. He was a stumpy old man with a head so bald he reminded me of an egg. He was sweating profusely when he came to greet me at Togveld Fortress’ iron gates. I thought perhaps that he was nervous to meet me, but soon learned that he was just naturally greasy. There was a disheveled look about him, and the food stains on his cheap grey tie did little to calm my nerves. The facility appeared rundown and filthy. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, the awful stench of piss and old food left the air heavy and damp, and several hallways were dim from lack of proper lighting.
“W-we really weren’t expecting you,” he stuttered. “I’m afraid all of our inmates have already returned to their cells for the day.”
“I only need to speak with the one. Can’t an exception be made?”
The warden rubbed his hands together anxiously. “Princess Marina, I’m afraid that–”
“I only need five minutes. I’m sure that’s not a problem, is it?”
“It’s an issue of your personal security, Princess. I don’t feel comfortable having you and the inmate–”
“Stop calling him that,” I snapped. “Rodrigo hasn’t formally been charged with anything.” The warden swallowed and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. He was about to open his mouth to say something, but I cut him off before he had the chance. “I want to speak with Rodrigo.”
With a sigh, the warden nodded. “Very well, Princess. It’ll take me a few minutes to arrange a safe meeting space for you.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “That’s fine. I’ll wait.”
It took almost half an hour for the warden to arrange a private visiting room. I would chalk it up to incompetence, but I wasn’t here to rate his work performance. I was here to see Rodrigo for the first time since he was detained. The little room they had me waiting in was stuffy and hot, like the inside of an oven. The chair that I sat in wobbled, and the table before me was sticky and grimy. I tried my best not to think about when this room was last properly cleaned.
The narrow door to the room opened, creaking on its rusty hinges. Two guards guided Rodrigo in, one standing out front while the other followed from behind.
My heart twisted in my chest when I saw him.
Rodrigo was dressed in a bright fluorescent orange one-piece uniform, hands bound together before him in a pair of silver handcuffs. He looked incredibly tired, dark circles and heavy bags beneath his eyes. His knuckles were a dull red, the skin there cracked and dry. There was a faded purple bruise resting upon his upper left cheekbone. Had he been fighting? Were the guards here treating him well? I had so many desperate questions I wanted to ask, but so little time.
“Marina?” He blinked in surprise as he entered. “What are you doing here?” Rodrigo moved like he was going to throw his arms around me and pull me into a tight embrace, but the guard behind him kept him from walking forward with a stiff hand on Rodrigo’s shoulder.
“No touching,” the guard barked.
Dejected, Rodrigo sat across from me. The handcuffs around his wrists looked unbearably tight.
“I wanted to see you,” I said softly. “How are you doing? You doing okay? I know that’s probably a stupid question, but I still wanted to ask. How did you get that bruise? You look a little thin, have you been eating properly?”
Rodrigo forced a smile. It was pained and small and so not what I needed to see. “Marina, you shouldn’t be here. How did you even get the King’s permission to come visit?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a whole other story. I snuck away from my guards and took one of their cars.”
He grimaced. “I pity everyone out on the roads today then.”
I sighed, partially in relief. It was an attempt at humor. A poor one, but at least Rodrigo still sounded like himself.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I said, determined. “I don’t know how yet, but I will.”
“Marina…” He whispered my name, allowed it to roll off his tongue. I always liked the way he pronounced my name, treated it like a sacred hymn. Conflict clouded his pretty blue eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.
“Of course, I do.”
“I’m not worth the trouble.”
I shook my head. “Yes, you are. I’m not going to let this stand. I’m going to get you out of here, even if–”
“Even if it puts you at odds with your family?”
“Yes.”
Rodrigo cast his eyes down at the floor and refused to look at me. “I love you, Marina.”
“I love you too.”
“But I don’t–”
“Stop,” I pleaded. “Whatever it is you’re about to say, stop.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think in here.”
“You’ve been in here for less than a week.”
“And that week could very well be another month. It could turn into a year.”
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
“But if it does,” he grumbled. “If the King is determined to keep me from you, he’ll find a way to do it.”
“Then I’ll visit you every day.”
Pain flashed across Rodrigo’s handsome face. “That’s not what I want for you. I love you, Marina.”
“I know you do. Stop talking to me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to get me to leave.” I sobbed. “Why does it sound like you’re trying to say goodbye? Just stop, okay?”
Panic was setting in, seeping into my bloodstream, and baking itself into my bone marrow. Why did I have this sinking feeling? How did I know that Rodrigo was about to push me away? Why could I feel it coming in my gut?
“It’s too hard, Marina.”
My shoulders shook as a chill snaked its way up my spine. “No. Stop it, Rodrigo.”
“If we stay together, I’m only going to drag you down.”
“What about all that talk about running away together?”
“I know. I wasn’t thinking straight. Brooklandia would be losing their future Queen. Things are already so turbulent back home. A struggle for succession would make things worse for the people.”
“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”
“I’d be taking you away from your mother and father. They’d really hate me after that.”
Heavy tears betrayed my eyes, dropping from my lashes onto my lap. “Rodrigo, I can’t– You’re not doing this.”
“I love you. Which is why I want you to leave me.”
“No. No, I’m not going to. What about all those notes you wrote me? All that effort you put into seeing me again? You want to fight for me, I know you do. If you really do love me, you won’t push me away.”
Rodrigo swallowed. His face hardened. He was suddenly unreadable, distant. Rising slowly from his seat, he turned to one of the guards. “I’d like to go back now. I won’t accept any more visits from the Princess.”
I stood rapidly. “Rodrigo, wait! Don’t�
��”
The silence he left behind rang loudly in my ears. I felt sick. My stomach was churning, and my chest felt tight. I was simultaneously cold and overheating in this oven of a room. The overwhelming urge to throw up consumed me. I placed a hand on my stomach, tried to soothe the uneasiness away.
Maybe things weren’t going to work out after all.
17
Rodrigo
The prison guards rudely awoke me by clanging their metal batons against the bars of my cell. I sat up immediately, heart pounding hard in my chest. There was no way to figure out what time it was. My cell had no windows, so I couldn’t judge the time of day by the position of the sun or the moon. The first round of wakeup calls hadn’t sounded over the PA system yet. Considering how quiet everything was, it was safe to assume that it was pretty early in the morning.
All I could make out was the hard silhouette of the person standing in the doorway. I didn’t need light to know who it was. This man was tall, strong, built like an ox. The rich scent of heavy cologne burned my nose, a mix of expensive spices and sandalwood. It was almost obnoxiously overpowering, especially when combined with the prison’s natural stench of urine, vomit, mold, sweat, blood, and feces.
If my nose had a mouth, it would have a lot to complain about.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?” I asked dryly, standing from my poor excuse of a bed. There was a kink in my neck thanks to the lumpy mattress I was lying on, which was only an inch thick and did little to protect me from the hard angles of the metal bed frame.
“You’ve been pardoned,” the King said gravely.
I fought against the urge to snort and roll my eyes. “Why was I pardoned for something I didn’t do?”
“This has nothing to do with your father’s rebellion. I’m pardoning you for seducing my daughter.”
I bit back at the rage that rose up through my throat. It coated my tongue with a bitter, salty taste. I didn’t like the way he said that. “I didn’t seduce your daughter. I fell in love with her. And she fell in love with me. What’s so wrong with that?”
“In the eyes of a father, any suitor is a seducer.”
“You could have just sent a messenger. Am I supposed to be flattered that you came here to deliver the news in person?”
The King raised his hand to shut me up—a power move that proved stupidly effective. “You are hereby released,” he said firmly. “But only under one condition.”
I sighed. “Let me guess. I’m never allowed to return to Brooklandia.”
“Correct.”
“And my father?”
“He will be punished to the fullest extent of the law. There’s no way around it.”
I didn’t really know how to feel. At this point, I was numb to everything. The tips of my fingers and toes were cold, my arms and legs were heavy weights. Breathing was a surprisingly easy task considering how badly I wanted to suffocate, just put an end to this madness. I was done feeling angry, done feeling helpless. As much as I loved Marina, I couldn’t stand the thought of having her ripped away from me again—or vice versa. I was exhausted in more ways than one, mainly because I had no clue how to get Marina off my mind.
I didn’t want things to end between us. Her words haunted me in my sleep, every waking hour. I missed her, ached for her. And the man standing before me was the reason why.
“Well?” he growled. “What’s your answer, boy?”
“Why are you doing this to us?” I asked, perturbed. “Can’t you see how unhappy you’re making Marina?”
“I am doing what is best for her and the Crown.”
“Are you, though? Really?”
The King scoffed. “So high and mighty, just like your father. The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
I shook my head slowly. I was really starting to pity this man. He was stubborn, much like Marina, but on an entirely different and exasperating level. The King was too proud a man to admit that he was in the wrong, that he was the antagonist here. I would have told him as much, but I was lucky he decided to show me and Father mercy. The fact that I was still breathing was a miracle.
Clenching my fists, I gave the King my answer. What other choice did I have?
Dear Princess Marina,
I hope this letter finds you well. I feel kind of bad having Oliver run back and forth as our mailman, but I wanted to send you one last message before I leave permanently for Allendes.
I’m sure you’ve heard by now of my exile. I have so many regrets, but please know that they have nothing to do with you. You’ve honestly made me happier than I could ever have imagined.
Do your best to forget about me. Nothing good will come from loving me. You deserve the world, but I will never be able to give it to you. I just hope that the next man you give your heart to will treat you with every ounce of adoration you deserve.
Live your life, Marina. Be the Queen that Brooklandia deserves. You’re kind, intelligent, and most importantly, you listen. Help our people. Under your guidance, your queendom will be the greatest the world has ever known.
There’s so much I want to say, but so few words that come to mind. I’m sitting here waiting for my plane as I write this. I’m sorry things had to end this way, but I don’t know how to make our parents see reason.
I love you with all my heart, Marina. Never doubt that. Maybe, one day off in the distant future, we might cross paths again.
Yours always,
Rodrigo Sabatino
18
Marina
I stared at the letter, and then at the white rose Rodrigo had sent me.
Red roses were symbolic of love or passion.
White roses were symbolic of surrender and defeat.
I wanted to throw the damn thing away. Just looking at it had me riding a rollercoaster of emotions with no stops and far too many loops for comfort.
I couldn’t, though. It was a gift from Rodrigo—my final gift.
The last time I left my bedchambers must have been almost a week ago when I learned that Father banished Rodrigo. I was so unbelievably distraught when I heard the news. I didn’t even know that banishments were still a thing in this day and age. Part of me shut down, left me feeling empty and light. It was only beneath the soft blankets of my bed that I felt the slightest bit okay.
Someone knocked on my door. I didn’t answer.
“Marina?” I heard Brandon call softly. “Will you please let me in?”
I rolled over and pressed my face into my pillow. My eyes were all scratchy, and my throat was terribly hoarse. A few of the maids had been in to deliver my meals from the kitchen, but the silver trays of food sat untouched on my desk. I hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, which was weird considering all the weird cravings I’d been having.
“Marina?” he called again. “Can you at least make a noise or something so that I know you’re alive in there?”
“You don’t think she’d hurt herself, do you?” Oliver whispered in concern.
Brandon sighed. “Great. Now I’m worried. Marina, do I have to break this door down?”
I chuckled humorously. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” declared Oliver. The door swung open quickly to allow him a grand entrance.
Brandon and Oliver made their way over. Brandon sat at the foot of the bed while Oliver helped himself beneath the covers to wrap me up in a tight hug from behind. His breath smelled of cinnamon and chocolate, which made me wonder if Brandon whipped some kind of dessert up for Oliver before they came to visit me.
“Talk to me, Princess,” Oliver whispered. “You’ll feel better.”
I couldn’t find the energy to think. I lay there, still and stiff as a board while Oliver played with my hair. It was a nice feeling. Too nice. It reminded me of when Rodrigo would comb his hands through my locks.
And that he wasn’t here to do that anymore.
I sniffled as I tried to keep the tears away. I’d cried so muc
h the last few days that I was fairly certain I was dehydrated. The terrible headache I was nursing was one clue, and the dryness of my tongue was another.
Brandon reached out and patted me on the ankle. He’d never been a super cuddly kind of guy. “I’m sorry, Marina. About Rodrigo.”
“I thought you hated him,” I grumbled. My words were barely audible in my own ears.
Brandon shrugged a shoulder, looking at me with nothing but pity. “If you’re this head over heels about him, I guess he can’t be that bad of a guy.”
“And I did a lot of talking up about him,” added Oliver.
“Yes. That too.”
Oliver pressed his brow to the back of my head. “Come on, Marina. You have to get up at some point. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I can make you something,” Brandon offered.
I pulled the covers over my head. “I don’t feel like it.”
I could hear their lips moving, a silent conversation passing between the two of them. Finally, Brandon asked, “How about a movie? Why don’t we watch a movie?”
I was about to protest, but Oliver cheered, “That’s a fantastic idea, babe! Isn’t that a fantastic idea, Marina? There’s a new movie by the Rock available on Netflix.”
“You like the Rock?” I asked, the tiniest bit amused.
“Well, no. But Brandon does, so I like the Rock by default.”
Brandon sighed as he got up from the foot of the bed, shuffling over to where my laptop was resting on my desk. He brought it over and slid beneath the covers with us, sandwiching me in the middle. Brandon placed the device on his lap and booted it up. I didn’t have a password on it, so he quickly navigated to a new browser and logged into his account. A list of movies popped up, colorful banners filling the screen. It looked like the boys weren’t going to give me the option of being alone, so I let out a defeated sigh and sat up a little in bed, propping my back up with a pillow.
We ended up watching one movie after another, all of which either starred or had a cameo by the Rock. I wasn’t too involved in the storylines. They were all pretty mindless, which I actually appreciated. Through the car chases, the excessive explosions, and the nonsensical yelling, I found myself feeling mildly better. My head didn’t hurt as much, and it was slightly easier to breathe.
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