by Sophia Gray
She cannot take it anymore. After having a taste normalcy after being around Matt, Victoria knows the royal life is not what she wants, but more importantly, it's not what she needs.
“Perhaps a walk outside would help?”
“What, in the garden?”
Killian hums. “That would work. Just somewhere that isn't here.”
“Agreed,” says Victoria. She plucks a cubed cheese off the tray and lets Killian guide her out into the night. Today’s party is being held at a grand resort whose name Victoria cannot remember. The main hall leads out into a beautiful garden, where all manner of plants have been meticulously tended.
She stops to pluck a rose from a bush and sniffs it. Killian smiles at her. “What's a woman like you doing out here, all on your own? I'm surprised your parents don't have a task force around you.”
“What, because I'm pregnant?” Victoria snorts. She rolls the stem between her thumb and forefinger. “Mother would like that, but Father won't let it happen. It's probably his one saving grace.” She does a bad impression of her father on purpose. “We must keep up our appearances!”
“They sound lovely.”
“Oh, don't mind me. I'm just sore with them right now. Truly, they're good people. They care for their country very much.”
“And you?”
Victoria blinks. The petals are white. She would like white roses at her wedding, she thinks, and tulips, too. “I love it very much, too, of course.”
“No,” laughs Killian. “I meant, what do they think about you?”
“Oh. That's, that is a rather personal question to ask, considering we just met, don't you think?”
“Perhaps,” says Killian, “but I'm rather taken with you; I must admit. It would be nice if we could get to know each other a little bit better.”
“Surely,” says Victoria, “we can do that without bad mouthing my family?”
“Of course,” says Killian, holding up his hands in a mock sign of peace. “I meant no disrespect.”
“I'm sure you did not,” says Victoria, even though she cannot understand how such a question could be asked without meaning to be barbed and painful. “What about you? Do you get along well with your parents?”
“I did,” says Killian in a measured voice. “When they were still alive, that is. They both passed when I was a young boy. It was quite tragic, really—a car accident.”
“I'm so sorry,” says Victoria. “See? This is why we should not start off with such personal questions!”
“I'm far from sore over it anymore,” says Killian with a shrug. He plucks the flower out of Victoria's hand and offers it back to her, like he was the one that picked it.
She smiles at him. “I cannot imagine not having my parents around, no matter how crass they might be.”
“It was rough,” says Killian. “But being around a beautiful woman such as yourself makes it easier.”
Victoria's cheeks color. “Hush, you. You're just saying that!”
“Hardly,” says Killian. “From the moment I saw you across that room, I knew you were something special. Please, won't you go for a walk with me?”
“We're already on one,” says Victoria, laughing.
“No,” insists Killian. “A real one! Just down to the end of the walkway.”
Victoria glances into the darkness. She knows it is foolish, but she also knows this might be her last chance to protest her parents’ command over her. In the end, she nods and says, “All right.”
The resort is in the middle of a lavish garden, meant to be some sort of monetized nature preserve. Giant oak trees loom over them, with branches that twist in garish directions in the fading light. The moon is full. It casts strange shadows onto the world.
Victoria smiles. “It reminds me of fall.”
“You like fall?”
“I do,” says Victoria. “Well, I think I would. It rains a lot back home. We don't have the true color change that some places do.”
Killian nods. “That is how it is out in Georgia. Everything is just pine trees and dead leaves.”
“You're from Georgia?”
Killian nods. “Born and raised. Have you been there, Princess? I'm sorry, have you been there, Tori?”
He stretches out the correction on her name like it means something else entirely. Victoria smiles, even though she does not particularly like how the words roll off of his tongue. “I have. Our plans were delayed, and we spent the night there once. It was wondrous. I met a lovely man there.”
“Oh?”
Victoria hums. “He was quite charming, all things considered.”
“I hear the Duke of Cambridge is quite charming,” says Killian. He wraps an arm around Victoria's waist, guiding her farther down the walk. Small, pink flowers bloom alongside the cobbled path. Occasionally, vines with stunning white and purple blooms race up along the trunks of the oak trees.
“So I've heard,” says Victoria. “I'd rather not talk about him, however. Didn't you say you wanted to get to know me?”
“I did,” says Killian. “So I asked about your fiancé. Rumor has it, he's going to show up tonight.”
Victoria nearly trips over her own feet. The arm around her waist is the only thing holding her up. Killian is quick to brace her and demand, “Are you all right, Tori?”
“I…what?”
“Are you all right?”
“No,” says Victoria, shaking her head. “What you said before that!”
“That the Duke was going to make an appearance tonight? Didn't you know that?” Killian smiles, and it seems dark, almost sinister.
Victoria's heart sinks. “No. I didn't. How did you find out about that?”
“I just heard it through the grapevine,” says Killian. “You don't look happy to see your fiancé. Are there troubles so soon?”
Victoria opens her mouth, and then snaps it shut again. She knows she should not run her mouth about such personal affairs, but the young woman cannot help it. In a sort of final vindication against her family, she shakes her head. “There are,” says Victoria, “or rather, there are not. I have never even met the man!”
“Not once?”
“No!”
Killian looks aghast. “How can they expect you to wed? That is simply ridiculous!”
“I feel the same way,” says Victoria. “But my mother won't listen. This will go on, whether I want it to or not.”
Killian is silent for a long moment. Finally, he asks, “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”
“What?”
“Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”
“No,” lies Victoria, feeling strangely reluctant to share any more of her encounter with Matt. “I have not.”
Killian holds out one hand. “Then you should come with me. I have a motorcycle. Not here, of course. I would have been flayed at the front entrance if I rode it here. But back at my house. Would you want to come take it for a spin?”
Just like with Matt, Victoria has a hard time saying no.
She gives the resort one last look and takes Killian's hand.
# # #
The parking lot is oddly dark. A few of the streetlamps have been turned off, no doubt because most of the partygoers have plans to stay in the resort overnight. That is what Victoria and her family plan to do, as well.
At least, that's what she planned on doing before this. Now, as she walks up to Killian's luxury sports car, she wonders where her night will take her.
It's not like it was with Matt, of course. There's no primal desire to sleep with this man, no instant attraction that she just cannot explain. It's little more than anger and rage and resentment, all coming to one final head.
“I wouldn't have pegged you for this sort of car,” says Victoria with a tittering laugh.
Killian gives her a roguish smile. “It's not. I just borrow it from a friend when I have to come out to events like this.”
“I don't picture you coming to events like this,” admits
Victoria, getting in the car.
Killian laughs this time, and the sound is bitter and loud. “I don't usually do that either. I just had to meet you.”
“You came out here just to meet me?”
That's almost disturbing, actually. Victoria frowns at him.
“I did,” says Killian. “I hope that does not sound strange. I just…you're such an idol! More than that, you're someone to respect. I heard about you on the television and thought that's a woman I need to meet.”
Victoria isn't sure what to say to that. She asks, “What kind of bike do you have?”
“The best sort,” says Killian and won't answer any more questions on the matter. He turns the radio on. It's a loud, blaring rock song. Victoria doesn't like it near as much as the music she'd heard earlier in the day and can't help but compare Killian to the harsh sounds of the drums and the base.
And then, as they pull out of the parking lot and onto the empty stretch of highway, she can't help but wonder, I hope this isn't a mistake.
Chapter 17
There's a bruise peeking out from the edge of Victoria's sleeve. It hurts, but that doesn't stop her from absently rubbing at the mark. It is vivid.
It's a wonder that no one's noticed it yet.
After announcing both her engagement and the soon-to-be arrival of a young babe, Victoria's life has become nothing but a blur of reporters and compliments.
“You're glowing,” insists her mother, but there's something stilted about the words. Gabriella brushes her knuckles against the side of her daughter's face. In that moment, she doesn't look like a queen. In that moment, she looks worn and used, desperate even.
Mostly, she looks tired.
Victoria understands. She feels tired, too. Still, she tries to smile, this wane and wavering thing. “I'm gaining weight.”
“That happens,” says Gabriella with a bark of airy laughter. “You're going to gain even more as the pregnancy progresses. No worries, I'm sure the Duke will take good care of you.”
It's hard not to bristle at the mention of her fiancé. All this time and Victoria still hasn't met him! She tries to point that out to her mother, but the Queen merely shakes her head.
“That's your own fault,” says Gabriella. “We had it set up for you to meet him at the last gala and you...you took off! Haven't you learnt your lesson yet? Haven't you realized how bad it is for you?”
“Bad it is?” Victoria snorts. “You're the only one who thinks it's bad news!”
“I've explained this to you,” sighs Gabriella. “I will love your child, no matter who the father is. But the circumstances behind his birth--”
“Don't say that,” hisses Victoria. “Don't say it's a boy. You don't know that!”
“And you don't know it won't be,” counters Gabriella breezily. She carries on with a wave of her hand, easily ignoring the young princess's demands. “Victoria, the circumstances behind that child's birth are simply unacceptable. You could have met your beloved last week, but you chose not to. That fault lays on your shoulders.”
“He's not my beloved!”
“He will be.”
“No, Mother, he won't be! I can't love a man who’s willing to marry a stranger,” insists Victoria, shaking her head. She tugs the sleeve of her dress down again, unwilling to share that part of her life with her mother. “I'll never love him.”
Gabriella's eyes go small and dark. She shakes her head, as if there's something wrong with the world as a whole, as if the fault doesn't lay on her shoulders for trying to arrange this awful marriage, for trying to force a life of solitude upon her young daughter's shoulders. “Then it will be a very lonely future for you and your child. You're a fool.”
She leaves then, in a flurry of gauzy blue skirts and clacking heels. Victoria stands there in the room of her hotel, desperate and aching, both body and soul. The hurt is bone deep by now, the sort that will never actually go away.
Her mother is right.
She is a fool.
# # #
That night, the window of her suite is left open.
It's a cool evening. The crisp autumn air brings about fond memories of growing up in the Royal Garden, where the maples were always changing colors, where the glass roof kept away the snow and the rain.
Victoria sits at the end of the couch, curled up with a book that she doesn't really like. It's a required read, though, according to her tutors at home, something that will really help teach her the ways of the world.
The print is small and black, boring and blurring together.
As such, when the sound of someone rapping lightly against the windowsill pierces the otherwise silent room, Victoria is overjoyed for more than one reason. She flings the book down on the coffee table, lurches to her feet, and spins around. “Matt!”
Matt grins at her, so full of confidence that it almost hurts. The man is broad-shouldered and handsome, the sort of raw sexuality that Victoria has only ever seen in movies. “I was hoping you'd still be up.”
“I was hoping you would come by.”
“Really? With this window sitting open, I couldn't tell.”
Victoria laughs. It's a watery sound. The pregnancy has her hormones completely out-of-whack. She cries at the drop of a hat and this, this is close to perfection, close to making things okay. “I just...I didn't know how to get a hold of you.”
“We'll fix that tonight,” says Matt, clambering in through the window. His black combat boots leave dark smears on the pale yellow tile. There's motor oil smeared against the left leg of his white-washed denim jeans. “Are you just going to stand there, or do I get some loving?”
Victoria rushes forward, wrapping her arms around Matt's shoulders. She buries her fingers in his dirty hair, in the back of his leather vest. “I've missed you,” she breathes. “I've missed you so much.”
“I'm not surprised,” says Matt, lightly. “I'm a fucking missable person.”
It's meant to be a joke, but Victoria shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, I've missed you, Matt. I've missed you like I've never missed anyone else. You left and--”
“And you went off to meet your fiancé,” says Matt, and there's no small amount of bitterness in his voice.
“I didn't meet him. I don't want to meet him.”
“I heard the news. I know he was at that party.”
“I didn't see him,” swears Victoria, and the thought of the party just makes her cling that much tighter to the man before her. “I didn't. I couldn't stand the thought of it, so I left. One last excursion, one last trip outside.”
Matt is silent for a moment. Finally, he rests a hand on Victoria's hips, fingers curling in the pale green fabric of her gown. “Where did you go?”
“I went for a drive with someone,” admits Victoria, because the lies are weighing her down; she just wants someone to know. “Don't get angry. I didn't stay with him. He wanted me to, but I didn't. I'm not interested in staying with anyone else but you.”
The bruise on her wrist sparks just at the thought. It's proof that she didn't stay, even though that man—Killian—had wanted her to.
It's proof she's strong, that she can live.
It's proof she's still alive, even on the days where she just feels like a puppet strung up by golden threads.
Matt's other hand presses against the small of Victoria's back. His fingers curl into the soft fabric of her dress, just beneath the place where the ribbon corset ends. “Of course you aren't. Why the fuck would you want to be with someone else?”
“I don't,” insists Victoria. “I don't!”
Matt presses a kiss to the top of Victoria's head. His lips twist up into a knowing sort of smile. “You want to prove that to me?”
Victoria's breath catches in her throat. She nods, but the motion is jerking and harsh. “Could I?”
“Fuck, Tori. I'm never going to say no to you. You're like a damn addiction. Can't get you out of my mind,” mutters Matt, voice already thick with arousal.
She smiles, the first time in nearly a week. “Can we...go to the bedroom?”
Matt hums, and then he shakes his head. “I think we should probably just stay out here.”
And, really, Victoria doesn't mind, so she doesn't argue.