My Royal Hook-Up

by Riley Pine

I crack open the door. X is alone. He is polite enough not to swing his eyes in the direction of the bed. I wonder if he knows what happened in here. If the power of our passion tattooed the very air.

  “Can we talk?” he asks in a quiet voice.

  “Alone? I don’t want to wake the prince.”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t.” His enigmatic eyes give nothing away. Not for the first time I wonder, Who is this man?

  With regret I slide from the sanctuary of our sparse yet somehow perfect bedroom, quietly closing the door.

  As we head down the hall, X gives me a sidelong glance. “I understand you were quite...passionate last night.”

  I dig in my heels, refusing to take another step. “You said there were no cameras.”

  “There were not. And the room is soundproofed. Or so we had assumed. Either I need to write a sternly worded letter to the door company or you two are more powerful than some of the most state-of-the-art security equipment.”

  A blush creeps up my cheeks.

  “No one minds around here,” X answers. “I think in truth, everyone was a little jealous.”

  “Why?”

  “We aren’t a monastic order. Nor do we prize virginity. But working in The Hole takes single-minded commitment and mission focus. This means that when our operatives are stationed here they agree to celibacy for the duration. Keeps things simple. So I’m sure many were biting their knuckles last night.”

  He chuckles, something that seems so not X. But then again, he is a man of mystery. Everything about him surprises me.

  “You’re—celibate?” I blurt, not able to believe a man so virile would deny himself physical release.

  “Me?” That earns an honest peal of laughter. “I’m not assigned to The Hole. I’ve been in the field for years...which allows me to play the field.”

  “But there isn’t anyone special?”

  His unexpected mirth fades. “In my line of work, it is strongly discouraged to get close to anyone. It’s not safe, for others or for us.”

  “Can you be reassigned to The Hole?”

  He shrugs. “Sure. If I piss off the right person. Luckily I have a very influential friend who makes sure I don’t.”

  “Who’s that?”

  He presses his hand against a screen, and sliding doors open.

  “Just wait.”

  I enter a meeting room empty but for a massive table surrounded by twelve chairs.

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  “Hello, Juliet,” a woman purrs in my ear.

  I turn, startled, swearing no one had been there a moment before. Now an attractive middle-aged woman sizes me up with intelligent eyes. Eyes that are a brilliant, stunning green. Eyes that I’ve only ever seen on the faces of the three princes of Edenvale.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” the woman says, moving to a seat at the head of the table. She wears black knee-high boots; the stiletto heels are at least five inches and thin as toothpicks.

  She exudes power, arrogance and brains.

  I feel like a naive schoolgirl in comparison.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “That’s an interesting question,” she says, crossing her legs. “X, bring our guest a mug of Belgian hot chocolate, light on the whipped cream. That’s the way you like it, yes?”

  X bows once and is on his way.

  “How did you know my favorite drink?”

  “Another interesting question.” The woman trails a finger over her lower lip. I don’t know what she’s hoping to learn from my features, but it’s as if she’s memorizing every detail. “I propose a trade. Every time you answer three of my questions, I answer one of yours.”

  “But that’s not fair.”

  “No,” she says, sighing. “But life’s not fair, is it?”

  I narrow my gaze. If she does indeed know who I am, then she should treat me with the reverence fit for a future queen. “Very well. What do you want to know?”

  “Did you want to rule Nightgardin?”

  The way she pronounces the name of my kingdom, it’s with a native-born tongue. She’s one of my subjects, if I could call her that. I get the sense she answers to nobody and no one.

  “I did,” I respond. “But not as my parents intended—kept by a man for whom I cared nothing and who himself cared no more for me than as a means to an end.”

  She leans closer. “Did you ever get the sense that your life was in danger? Were you exposed to any strange accidents? Especially in the past five years?”

  “Accidents?” I frown. “There was a fire at our summer estate. And once when I was riding my horse on a mountain trail a large boulder was dislodged from above.”

  She steeples her fingers. “Did you ever wonder if these...accidents were intentional?”

  “Not until now,” I say curtly. “That’s three questions. Here’s mine. Who are you?”

  “No one.”

  “That’s not an answer,” I scoff.

  She arches a brow. “It’s the truth. I am a woman without a country. Without a name. Without a claim to anything or anyone.”

  “Why?”

  She bites the corner of her lower lip. “That’s another question. You owe me three. Did your parents ever mention anything to you about a spring?”

  My brows furrow. “Spring? Like in the woods? Or something mechanical?”

  She doesn’t crack a smile.

  “Why would they mention springs to me?” Nothing this woman says makes any sense. “They didn’t speak to me unless it was to remind me to know my place. To stay out of sight. To not bring undue attention to myself.”

  “And you never wondered why they insisted on keeping you from your subjects?”

  “That was the custom.”

  “It never used to be.” The woman’s smile is cold.

  “What are you trying to say?” I fly to my feet, voice shaking. “My parents weren’t the best. They didn’t show me love in the usual way. But they aren’t murderers. They weren’t plotting to burn me to death or crush me with a boulder.”

  There’s the sound of a scuffle outside. I hear X’s voice.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there.”

  “Like hell you’ll keep me from her,” Damien snarls. “Juliet. Juliet!” I can hear his panic and imagine how he must have felt waking up alone. Not knowing if I was taken.

  “So dramatic, that one,” the woman says with something approaching affection.

  “Damien!” I call out. “I’m in here. I’m safe.”

  The doors open and he rushes in. “Thank God. I had a dream—no, a fucking nightmare.” He pulls me to him, presses his lips to my forehead. “But you’re safe.”

  “I am. But not if you listen to her.” I jerk my thumb to the head of the table, but when we both turn around, the woman is gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Damien

  “SLOW DOWN,” I tell Juliet, who’s speaking so fast I can’t tell if she’s upset or excited.

  “This woman, she said she had no name or country or anything. She said my parents were plotting to kill me. And she kept talking about some spring, wanting to know if I knew anything about it.”

  I stumble backward and collapse into a chair. “Jesus,” I hiss under my breath.

  Juliet rushes to me. “What is it?” she asks. “Does something hurt?”

  For a second I chuckle. “Everything hurts, Princess. After what we did in that room last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the ribs re-broke.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the slight bump that means it will always be crooked, that I will never quite be the me I was before I was sent away.

  She lowers to her knee, resting her palms on my thigh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I—”

  “Don’t you ever apologize for what yo
u do to me, Juliet. I am a fucking animal when it comes to you, and I would have it no other way.”

  She smiles coyly. “Okay. But, then, what’s eating you? Did I upset you?”

  “You mentioned a spring—or that this strange woman mentioned it.”

  “It’s true,” X says from the doorway. “My associate needs to know what Nightgardin knows of the spring. Because the more they believe the lore, the more they will want to breach every barrier we—I mean Edenvale has.”

  Juliet straightens and throws her hands in the air.

  “Will someone please tell me what the hell is with this damned spring?”

  My eyes and X’s widen.

  “Your Highness,” X says, sauntering into the room like he’s done this a hundred times. He probably has. “Several months ago Princess Evangeline was taken captive and dragged into the palace’s catacombs.”

  Juliet falls into one of the chairs now, too.

  “This is all too much,” she says breathlessly. “First Damien gets me pregnant. Then he forgets who I am. Rosegate tricks us and turns an amazing morning outside the stables into tabloid fodder. And now there are catacombs and a mystery woman—even more mysterious than X—who knows how I take my hot chocolate, is asking me about springs I’ve never heard of, and who can disappear into thin air the second I turn around.”

  X clears his throat.

  “It’s just one spring, Princess.”

  She glares at him. “Then tell me what is so special about the one spring.”

  I blow out a long breath. “Benedict’s wife—Princess Evangeline—she almost died to protect it. But I don’t know a hell of a lot more than that.”

  X takes a seat across from me, and Juliet and I both stare at him expectantly.

  “It is what The Order here in this part of the continent has been sworn to protect—the Spring of Youth.”

  I laugh, but X’s countenance does not change. “You’re serious. About a magical spring and some order who protects it? And you are a member of The Order?”

  Yes. Growing up as a royal is a life less ordinary. But I never anticipated spies, murder plots and a magical goddamn spring.

  He rolls up his sleeve, revealing the tattoo of a crow’s feather on his forearm. “You think me a spy, and perhaps that is one way to look at what I do. I go places others wouldn’t dare to go. I obtain information others would never be able to find. But first and foremost, I protect that which needs protecting.”

  “The royal family,” Juliet interrupts.

  X nods once. “For centuries Nightgardin and Edenvale have been at odds over one thing.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes,” I say impatiently. “Power. We have it, and Nightgardin wants it.”

  “You have power, yes.” X raises his brows. “But it is access to the Edenvale catacombs they want.”

  “Oh my God,” Juliet says, realization creeping into her tone. “They think they can rule forever.” Her jaw tightens, and angry tears brim over her lashes. “If this spring is real and it does what they think it can do?” Her hand flies to her mouth. “The fire. The boulder. And—and—there must have been other times they tried and failed. I was never meant to be queen, was I?” Her eyes are wild. “Tell me, X! That woman asked about accidents, but I don’t think it was because she didn’t know my answers. She was testing me—testing my loyalty to my family. But you already know, don’t you? You’ve known this whole time!”

  X slides his chair backward, but Juliet shakes her head.

  “Don’t move. Don’t come near me. Just. Tell me. The truth,” she says, holding out a hand to ward him off.

  X freezes in place. “You were to be murdered on your wedding night, the Duke of Wartson framed, and your parents left without an heir.”

  She chokes out a sob. “Why does it even matter to them whether I live or die? The throne is not mine until they’re dead and gone.”

  X shakes his head slowly. “There have been whispers in the Order of your father’s concern over your mother’s behavior, of his threat to abdicate, which would strip your mother of her power and give the throne to you. But with you gone he will not risk it, not without an heir of his choosing.”

  She swipes at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Father has never spoken of this to me. He’s never given any indication that he even cares for me let alone wants me to rule.”

  “You knew, Juliet,” he continues. “Somehow you knew the marriage wasn’t right, so you fled.”

  She stares at me now, and she is not the timid girl I thought she was. She is a woman betrayed, scorned, by everyone she thought cared for her. Not just her parents, but me.

  “I went looking for pleasure. I went looking to have one joyful experience that was just for me.”

  “And Prince Damien saved your life,” X says carefully.

  She pushes her own chair back and stands abruptly, pointing at me. “He—he doesn’t even know me! My mother wants me dead, and my own husband doesn’t remember falling for me! I have no one,” she says. “If not for my unborn child, I am completely alone. And they will not take my baby from me.”

  She starts toward the door.

  “Juliet—” I stand and take a step to her, but what comes next? What do I say to right all the wrong that has been done to her?

  “You can’t fix this,” she says, tears streaking her cheeks.

  I venture another step, trying not to spook her, though I know in this place she can’t go far. So far she doesn’t run.

  “You’re half right,” I tell her when we are face-to-face. “I don’t remember.” Her dark eyes—full of so much anger and hurt—bore into mine. “But you aren’t alone.” I cradle her face in my palms. “You and this baby. Let me protect you both.” I kiss her, and I feel some of the tension leave her body. But she’s still holding something back. “Let me fall for you both and prove myself worthy of a love as big as yours.”

  She melts into me then, and I don’t care that X is still here. I kiss her hard, my lips on hers a promise. One I hope I can keep.

  Juliet

  At last X clears his throat.

  “As much as I hate standing in the way of true love, we need to get to the palace.”

  “This isn’t true love,” I hasten to say, pulling back, Damien’s unique minty flavor lingering on my tongue. I swear he’s permeated every cell of my body from the way I tingle.

  “That a fact?” X says in a sardonic voice.

  “It’s animal magnetism. And pregnancy hormones.” I refuse to meet my husband’s eyes. I hope my lie sounds believable to his ears. I hate to have him pity me. He’s said he wants to fall for me, but that means he’s not yet fallen, and maybe he never will. But he wants me—wants to pleasure me and protect me—and I tell myself if that’s all we ever are, it’s enough.

  It has to be.

  Without another look, I march forward down the corridor until I come to a halt at a T-junction. “I don’t know which way to go,” I admit, turning around.

  Damien and X watch me, each with something simmering in their eyes. X is full of his usual secrets, and Damien? Who knows how many levels my brooding prince has, but he’s retreated far into himself.

  For a moment I wonder if I wounded him with my quick denial of how I feel, but I know that’s impossible. Just as much as I know my own desperate, pathetic truth.

  The truth strikes me with lightning precision, igniting my core.

  I’m in love with my husband.

  Desperately.

  Irrevocably.

  Always and forever.

  “We turn left here, Highness,” X says with a gentle gesture.

  I hate that I feel he can hear my thoughts.

  As I pass by he adds, “I know you two won’t want to be late.”

  “For what?” Damien growls, stalking beside me, looking neither left nor righ
t.

  There are so many doors along this hall. None marked. The Hole is as mysterious as The Order. As X himself.

  “Your first sonogram.” X stops in front of a door that looks exactly the same as the three on either side. He presses his hand to a keypad, and it opens up into an elevator. The same in which we arrived.

  By the time we step outside, blinking at the sun, the chopper purring on the helipad, my heart is in my throat.

  We are going to see the baby. Our baby.

  “Are you excited?” I ask Damien as we strap into our jump seats and buckle matching Kevlar helmets under our chins. X and my husband sit up in the front while I take a position near the window.

  “Yeah. Sure.” He smiles over his shoulder in my direction, but the grin doesn’t reach his eyes.

  My heart sinks faster than a pebble tossed into the deep end of the ocean. No matter what he said before, in The Hole, his actions speak louder. The helicopter lurches into the air, drops as we hit a patch of turbulence. I grip my seat, terrified, alone.

  Then Damien reaches his hand back to take mine, knowing that I need it without even turning around.

  I lace my fingers with his and squeeze once. He does the same in return.

  Beneath us the mountains drop into tight, twisty valleys, a geographical maze, much like the paradox holding on to me as if he’ll never let go.

  He can claim me with such passion and then retreat into a part of himself that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breach. The walls are too high.

  But as I rest my free hand on my stomach, tears sheen my eyes. Damien is more than I could have hoped for, even if he cannot give me every part of himself. “Remember, you never believed in happy endings,” I whisper.

  “What was that, Princess?” X asks, eagle-eared as always.

  “I was wondering how much longer,” I say with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m ever so eager for the sonogram.”

  “Twenty more minutes the way I fly.” X pulls hard, giving more throttle.

  True to his word, we land on the palace roof exactly twenty minutes later. Two nurses are waiting for us.

  “Right this way, Prince Damien, Princess Juliet,” one says while the other simply gawks as if we are some kind of celebrities.