by Renna Peak
Royal Arrangement #6
Renna Peak
Ember Casey
Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: August, 2017
Contents
Royal Heartbreakers Reader Team
1. Justine
2. William
3. Justine
4. William
5. Justine
6. William
7. Justine
8. William
9. Justine
10. William
11. Justine
12. William
13. Justine
14. William
15. Justine
16. William
17. Justine
18. William
19. Justine
20. William
21. Justine
22. William
23. Justine
24. William
25. Justine
26. William
27. Justine
28. William
29. Justine
30. William
31. Justine
32. William
33. Justine
34. William
35. Justine
36. William
37. Justine
38. William
39. Justine
40. William
41. Justine
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Royal Arrangement
Also by Renna Peak
Also by Ember Casey
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Justine
William and I sit in silence, holding hands on the stone bench just outside the library. He hasn’t responded to my suggestion—that we return to Rosvalia to try and stop my father.
We watch the students passing by on the courtyard. After what seems like forever, he finally speaks. “I’m not so sure going to Rosvalia is the best plan.”
I turn to look at him, lifting a brow. “Do you have a better one?”
“We could…we could go to Montovia.” He nods, mostly to himself it seems. “It would be safer for you there. Safer for all three of you.”
I’d forgotten for a moment what he’s talking about—the two children I’m carrying. This pregnancy still doesn’t seem quite real. And William isn’t wrong—after what my family did to me the last time I was pregnant, I can’t be sure they wouldn’t try to do the same thing.
Part of me knows they almost certainly will try to do the same thing. Especially when they find out I’m carrying two children this time.
“I don’t disagree that it would be safer there.” I press my lips together, trying to hold back the flood of emotions I can already feel building inside me. “But if we’re to have a real chance at ending this feud between our countries once and for all, the only place we can do that is in Rosvalia.”
He slides an arm around my waist, edging as close to me as he’s able. “I can’t let us do that.”
I’m all too aware of how he’s phrased his last sentence—how careful he’s being to use the word us instead of ordering me around. And as frustrating as he can be, I do appreciate that he’s at least making an effort not only to protect me, but to allow me to make decisions, too.
“William.” I turn to him, trying to clear my voice of any of the feelings swirling inside me. “We need to do this. You thought for most of your stay that something was happening in the east wing of the palace—”
“Something was happening in the east wing of the palace.” I’m not able to read the emotions I can see in his eyes, but there’s definitely something troubled there. “But even if we could somehow sneak in—”
“I wouldn’t need to sneak anywhere. As far as I know—”
“As far as you know, your name is on the same blacklist that mine is on.” He tilts his head. “I’m not opposed to going to Rosvalia, Justine. But if that’s the case, I’m going to be going alone.”
“Because—”
“Because it’s far too dangerous for you there. For all of you.” He glances down at my belly. “We have to think of them, Justine. We both do. We have to protect them—”
“I am protecting them, William.” I frown at him. “Just because I’m pregnant, it doesn’t mean I’m frail. I thought you might have understood that after last night.”
His cheeks turn instantly pink. “It isn’t that I think you’re frail—”
“I grew up in the palace. I know it better than almost anyone. I know the shortcuts, the secret passages—”
“Wait.” His expression brightens, and he grins. “There are secret passages?”
I’m sure my expression conveys my confusion at his question. “Of course there are. The palace is old—older than the one you grew up in. You’re honestly telling me the palace in Montovia doesn’t have secret corridors? Tunnels that connect the wings?”
“I…” His grin widens. “My brothers and I had infinite amounts of fun in those passages. Well, except for Andrew.” He chuckles. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten.”
Something is heavy in my heart. There was a time that I had fun playing with my brother, too. We’d hide in the closets, see who could get to different places in the palace the fastest. It all changed when we were eight or nine years old. I never really understood what happened then—but I suppose it was because he was a male, and I was not. My father began to spend much more time with Reginald then, and I was left alone. I found my comfort in reading, of course, but I always missed having the company of the only family I’d ever really had. My brother was taken away from me, turned against me, only because I was female.
“I suppose I’ve forgotten much of my childhood, too.” I let out a heavy sigh. “When we get through this, let’s remind ourselves not to let our children forget theirs.”
He pulls my hand into his, squeezing it tightly. “I promise.”
I nod. “Then we should return to Rosvalia. I can get us in the east wing. We may not find anything there, but if you’re certain—”
“I’m not certain at all.” He frowns again. “Maybe…maybe you should just tell me how to get there. You…you could stay here and finish your class. Didn’t you tell me it only lasts a few more weeks?”
“I thought you said I would be safer with you—”
“I can post a guard.” He nods again to himself. “I’ll hire a bodyguard for you.”
“Ah. And that won’t call any attention to me, will it?” I shake my head. “I’d rather drop out of school than walk around campus with some strange man following at my back.” I squeeze his hand. “Besides, whether you like it or not, you’re going to need me there.”
“I know…I know you don’t want to be alone right now. And I don’t blame you—I don’t want to leave you. But I need to see what they’re doing. If they’re going to use some sort of weapon on my country…” He shakes his head.
“I stand by my earlier statement. It’s far too dangerous for you.”
“Then I’ll stay in our suite while you go and save the world.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re lies. I have no intention of allowing him to be the only one who stops my family from whatever sinister plan they’re working on now.
“If you’ll promise…” He stares at me for a moment, his lips finally turning up into another smile. “You’re not going to promise, though, are you?”
“No.” I smile back at him. “Why should you have all the fun?”
“Justine—”
“I know. You want to protect me. Us.” I clutch my abdomen with my free hand. “But I can protect us, too. Can you trust me?”
He seems to ponder my words for a few moments. “I can. But…”
“But?”
“What about your class? You’ve wanted to return to school for so long. I really think that—”
“I’ll come back. Later. When the timing is better. Or perhaps I won’t.” I don’t want to say it out loud, but I’m not sure this is the place for me after all. It isn’t that I haven’t liked my class, but something isn’t right about my being here. I’m having difficulty writing anything with much depth. At first I thought it was merely that I was heartbroken and afraid the pain of acknowledging that ache would ruin me. But it’s something more than that. And whatever that something is, it’s telling me that this isn’t the place for me to be, at least for the moment.
“I don’t…I don’t want you to give up writing for me, Justine. I don’t think I could live with myself.”
I smile at my almost-husband. “I’m not going to give up writing. Not ever. I just… I suppose I don’t need the validation of a class. I don’t need my writing graded or critiqued. And I probably don’t need to publish what I write, at least at the moment. I just…I need to start a new chapter. Let go of the past and all the baggage it holds. I think…I think I can do that now. I think I’m finally ready.”
He gives me an impossibly wide grin, squeezing my hand again. “Then we should go get your things. We’ll take a quick trip to Las Vegas—get ourselves officially married—before we return to Rosvalia.”
William
My chest is tight when we arrive in Rosvalia. One way or another, this all ends here.
I still have my reservations about bringing Justine back here after everything her family has done to her, but I know better than to fight her on this. Even if I thought I could convince her to stay away—which I know is a fruitless task—she has the right to confront her own father. I won’t deny her that.
Still, my entire body is on edge as we take a car to the palace. I’ve never been as afraid for Justine as I am right now, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m restless, aching for a fight, but part of me wonders if I’ll ever have the stomach for fighting again. Learning that Justine is pregnant has changed everything.
I reach over and take her hand in mine, lacing my fingers through hers. She looks over and smiles at me, but I can see the anxiety in her eyes. She’s determined to do this, but she’s just as scared as I am.
“We’ll figure this out together,” I tell her. At the end of the day, that’s all we have—the strength of each other. Neither of us is in this alone.
When the car reaches the palace, Justine’s hand tightens on mine. But her eyes are full of determination as she steps out of the vehicle.
There’s a man waiting for us at the door. I don’t recognize him, but Justine sighs. “Looks like my father is expecting us.”
We didn’t tell anyone we were coming here, but there’s only so much we could do to hide it. Looks like word traveled ahead of us.
“Princess,” says the man at the door, giving a little bow. “Your father welcomes you home. He wishes to inform you, however, that your guest is not allowed in the palace at this time.” He doesn’t bother to look at me, but I’m sure he hears me give a snort.
Justine reacts in a much more civilized manner. “You can kindly inform my father that William is not my guest. He is my husband, and he’s allowed wherever I am.”
The man’s eyes widen when Justine says the word husband. Surprise flashes across his face, then panic when he apparently realizes he has no prepared argument for this—and that he’s the one responsible for bringing this news back to King Maximilian. I almost feel bad for the poor fellow.
“I…that is, of course, Your Highness,” the man says, bowing again. “Perhaps you should see your father and explain the situation to him?”
“I’m afraid my husband and I are both exhausted from our journey,” she replies. “We’ll get settled, and then we’ll go and see my father. You can inform him that I’ll come to him when I’m rested.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the man says. He gives one more bow and then retreats, hurrying down the corridor to deliver the news.
I turn and look at Justine. “Are you sure this is wise?”
She nods. “My father needs to know I won’t be pushed around anymore.” She takes a step, then pauses, her hand fluttering to her stomach. “Besides—I wasn’t lying when I said we needed to rest. I’m not feeling so great.”
Instantly, my arm is around her waist. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She does look a little paler than she did a short while ago. “Are the babies—?”
“Fine. They’re fine. It’s me who’s having problems.” She gives me a weak smile. “Between the flight and the car ride, I’m just feeling a little sick to my stomach. Hopefully lying down will help.” She glances over her shoulder. “And we should probably be quieter when talking about the babies.” She whispers the last word. “I don’t want my father finding out there’s more than one until it’s absolutely necessary.”
I nod. “Let’s get you to the suite.”
I lead her gingerly down the hall. After about a dozen paces, she pauses again, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“Justine.” The worry is thick in my voice. But after a moment, she shakes her head, giving me a small smile as she lowers her hand.
“I’m just a little nauseated. I’ll live.” Her eyes sparkle, even though her face is still too pale. “You’re just going to have to get used to morning sickness, you know.”
I can’t imagine ever getting used to seeing her ill. Even watching her experience mild nausea has sent me into protective overdrive. I don’t know how to help her, and that’s driving me mad.
But she squeezes my hand again.
“Just get me to our room,” she says weakly.
It takes some time, but we finally make it to our suite. It feels so strange to be back here after all this time—simultaneously like coming home and like I’m back in the heart of enemy territory. Part of me wants to dive right into our investigations—or to charge right up to Maximilian and demand to know what he’s planning—but I know that would be foolish. And besides, Justine needs me right now.
I lead her to the bed, helping her onto the sheets. She’s only there a moment though before she suddenly leaps up. I don’t even have the chance to get a word out—she darts into the washroom, throwing the door shut behind her. A moment later, I hear retching.
Perhaps I should give her some privacy, but I can’t bear to leave her alone, not at a moment like this. I push open the washroom door.
Justine is bent over the toilet, losing what little she ate on the flight over. I quickly walk over to the sink, wet a washcloth, and go to her, kneeling down on the tiles beside her. Her hair is thankfully tied back, but a few strands have come loose, and I pull them back from her face as she retches again.
I sit there with her for some time, rubbing her back and speaking softly to her. When she’s able to sit up, I press the washcloth to her forehead, gently wiping her face. She gives me a wry smile.
“This is really sexy, I know,” she says with a rough laugh.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell her. “And throughout this pregnancy, no matter how many times you throw up, I’ll be here to hold your hair and rub
your back and sit with you until it passes.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes filling with an emotion that makes me feel like I can fly. She opens her mouth as if to say something to me, but before any words come out, she dives for the toilet again, sick once more.
I stay with her, doing what I can to comfort her. After a moment, she lifts her head again.
“Was that the door?” she asks.
I frown. I’ve been so focused on her that I didn’t hear anything. “I can go check.”
Before I can even stand, though, the door to the washroom bursts open. I leap to my feet as half a dozen members of the Royal Guard march in. Before I even have time to react, two of them grab my arms.
“Prince William of Montovia,” one of them says, “you are hereby under arrest for trespassing in the Rosvalian palace. You are to be escorted to the dungeon immediately.”
“What the hell?” I demand, trying to wrench myself free. But the grips on my arms are too strong.
Justine stumbles to her feet. “What is the meaning of this? William is my husband, and I demand you release him.”
“Forgive us, Your Highness,” the man says, and to his credit, he does sound a bit ashamed of himself. “But your father’s orders outrank yours. And he informed us that if either of you resist, we’re to take you down to the dungeons as well.”