by Frankie Love
I just hope she can make her way around without my mother catching wind and sinking her claws into her.
I know my parents are going to try to lay down the law and have a whole bunch of expectations of us now that we’re married. They’ll try to fill her calendar with dinners at the castle, and meetings—but I’m going to hold out and avoid that shit as long as possible. There has to be some way to have boundaries between my private and public life.
Maybe that’s pie-in-the-sky thinking, that I can be royalty without my entire life being devoted to the monarchy. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to do this forever, if there isn’t a better balance.
I walk back down the mountain and head back to the cabin.
It’s empty.
Quiet.
Looking around, I notice Iris’s suitcase is no longer on the bed with clothes in disarray. I hang my rifle back on the rack, not having needed it … and possibly having exaggerated my use for it in the first place.
Looking around the kitchen, I see that Iris left her coffee on the counter, her scone in the bag. I feel like shit, walking away like I did. I have most of my dinners at the bar in town, and breakfast and lunch? I eat granola bars, fruit. Beef jerky and trail mix.
I’m a man, not a chef.
But I think about Iris, and wonder if she’s going to be able to deal with the lack of food in the house. Not that I was willing to admit it to her earlier, but now I can see how it might be an issue. She deserves better than a cabin without a working fucking fridge.
Living as a bachelor, grabbing a growler of beer for the night, and a bag of chips—well, I didn’t need much more. But Iris isn’t a bachelor. Iris is a princess. My princess. And way more than I ever expected, with my parents arranging my marriage.
So yeah, she complained about a refrigerator, but I recognize that she wasn’t making some crazy ass demands.
Clenching my jaw, I wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to bridge this gap with her. One thing I know: I’ve done a terrible job of it so far.
I decide to head into town and grab some food—and, more importantly, a few beers. And I hope to find Iris there.
Walking down the well-worn path toward the village square, I run into Thomas again, heading back to town with his wagon full of produce.
“Want a ride?” he asks.
The thing I love about Thomas, and lots of the guys like him in town, is that there’s no pretense with them. He sees me as an equal, because I’ve made my life as his neighbor, one of the people of Alpinweiss, not a high-rise politician.
“Sure. Your wagon working out okay today?”
“You want to talk about my wagon? I heard you got yourself married, Garrick. Where’s the wife?”
“She’s in town.”
“Oh yeah. Everyone in town is talking about you guys. We had no idea our prince was ready to walk down the aisle.”
“Why don’t you keep your eyes on the road, Thomas?” I say, trying to change the subject, and not really wanting to talk about Iris and me, what we are and what we clearly aren’t.
“Suit yourself, Prince. You sure aren’t like any prince I’ve ever heard of.”
“You run into that many princes?”
Of course Thomas hasn’t. He’s a man in his sixties, who’s been trekking his fresh produce back and forth from his farm to the village market every day of his life. He’s the sort of man Alpinweiss is made of. Not like me, and especially not like my father. While we have to work, we don’t have to put food on the table. We don’t have to sacrifice.
I feel sick, thinking about how everything I have has been handed to me. How I wish I could do more, be more. Be a better man.
“Oh, you’re right, I haven’t run into any other princes. Your parents okay with their prince living in the mountains with the new princess?”
“Okay with it?” I shake my head, running my hand over my jaw. “Hell, no. They have all sorts of ideas about Iris and me. Iris probably has all sorts of ideas about us, too. But you know me.”
“Yes, I do know you. You do everything however you damn well please, ever since you built the cabin and moved out of your parents’ castle.” Thomas clucks his tongue. “I must say, you’re the only man in the world who would give up the palace for creaky floorboards and a woodstove.”
“I love those floorboards.” I grin, knowing Thomas has been up to my place enough times over the years, helping me out with cleaning something we’ve hunted, or clearing my traps. I’ve made a point to help him out also, to lend a hand in his fields or his son’s fields. Thomas’s farm is mostly run by his son these days.
“You may love those floorboards but I’m surprised that a woman could live up there with you. This princess must be pretty special.”
“Iris isn’t your average princess.” I don’t know why I say it, like I want to defend Iris’s personality. Like I don’t want Thomas to question my wife, question my marriage.
“Well, then you have the right woman for you. I don’t think any average princess would be able to hack it with a man as stubborn and self-reliant as you.”
“You can just stop right here,” I tell him, pointing to the pub down the block.
“You going drinking without your wife after you’ve been married just one day? I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work, Prince.”
“I don’t care how it’s supposed to work, Thomas. I do things however I like, whenever I like. And right now, I need a drink.”
“Suit yourself. And Garrick,” he adds. “If you need any help with the floorboards, let me know.”
As I’m sitting down with a drink, the bartender, Kurt, asks if I’d like a whiskey to chase it.
“What do you think?” I ask my old friend.
“I think you do. Everyone in town is talking about you today.”
“Oh, yeah? And what are they saying?”
Working in a pub, Kurt knows all the gossip in a village like this, where beer and pretzels are the bread-and-butter of this town.
“They’re saying you got married yesterday, didn’t invite a lick to the wedding. Not even us, the people who are here for you day and night, pouring your beer, making your bread, washing your underwear. I think some people are pretty upset with you, especially since you’re touted as the people’s prince and all.”
“Fuck, the last thing anyone wants to do is come to a Royal wedding. I agreed to an arranged marriage—and hell, my parents delivered. But I’m not going to stand up in some fancy-ass suit like a clown just so people can look at me. I don’t do that shit.”
“And your wife, this new princess of yours, she’s okay with that?” Kurt asks, drying a pint glass. “Guess I always assumed princesses like to be the belle of the ball.”
I shake my head, wondering what the deal is about princesses needing ball gowns to be happy.
“Well, Iris isn’t your average princess. Anyway, she’s out shopping.”
“Out shopping? I never heard a thing like this. I swear to God, Garrick, you are an anomaly.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Kurt says, laughing. He sets my whiskey down next to my stein of beer. “Most men would be with their wives after their wedding. They would still be in bed the day after their wedding. And you? No honeymoon, no weekend away. You’re the fucking Prince. You could take this girl anywhere in the world. And instead you’re sitting around the Historic Village of Alpinweiss, drinking beer with me?”
I pick up my stein, guzzling. I set it down. My jaw tenses as I wonder if guys like Thomas and Kurt know what they’re talking about. Maybe I am the fool. No fucking refrigerator, fucking creaky floorboards, and here I am fucking drinking beer.
Alone.
15
After Garrick storms out of the house, and after my sister and Hunter talk me down, I get dressed, determined to make the best of things.
I wanted an adventure, didn’t I?
Well, this adventure isn’t exactly what I imagined, but I can certainly do my best to make it
my own.
I braid my still-wet hair into a fishtail, and look for a pair of shoes that have closed toes. I find some ballet flats and decide that’s better than nothing.
In the “kitchen” I find the drawer with cash, just as promised. So that’s something. I shove an envelope full in my purse and sling my bag over my shoulder.
Of course, I like to cry when necessary and I have no problem with pulling the covers over my face and having a Netflix marathon the week of my period. But right now, there’s no time for that.
Right now, I have to grin and bear it. Or make do with what I’ve got, or pull up my straps and walk in these “boots.” However that phrase goes.
I’ve got to be the princess I was born to be.
I have no intention of leaving Garrick. We’ve been married one day, and princes and princesses don’t just get divorced.
Besides, I want to be his wife. There are a lot of things about Garrick that make me feel like a woman—that make me feel beautiful, that intrigue me.
His jawline, for one, is a major turn on. Then we have his stunning eyes and his broad shoulders, and the way he makes me feel small. Not in an insignificant way, but in a he can take care of me and protect me and be my actual knight in shining armor way.
Scratch that. Not knight in shining armor. A prince in shining armor. Is that a thing? I can’t exactly picture Garrick in armor.
Okay, maybe prince in well-worn flannel. Because that’s pretty much the only thing I’ve seen him in.
Not that it matters. That flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, worn jeans and work boots…. It gets me hot just thinking about it. Somehow, the way he looks so comfortable in his own skin makes me want to be closer to him. Makes me want to be his.
Of course, there are plenty of things we need to work through first. Such as our relationship skills.
Sure, he made me come like a motherfucker—which, I know, that sounds crazy crass, but it’s the truth. Whatever he did to my body last night, he worked me over, worked me up and down. Worked me in all the ways.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a repeat tonight. Or this afternoon.
Or right now.
But I can’t.
I shut the door to the cabin, realizing I don’t even have a key to my own house—and by house, I mean piece of shit shed—and I walk down the path toward the village square.
My mind is on Garrick, of course. Will he come around and see things from my point of view? Would holding out on him, not giving him sex, be enough for him to change his entire lifestyle?
He seems to really hate the castle…but then I think about the fact that I cannot even boil a pot of water without putting a log in the fire. Which is pretty much ridiculous. If this marriage is going to work, we’ve both got to give.
More than an inch. He’s got to give up a hell of a lot.
In town, I realize it’s as cute and charming as I thought it was yesterday. Even though it’s a fall day, and the air is crisp and cool, there’s a sense of excitement on the streets. I feel like I’m in a fairy tale as I walk down the road. The people in town wave, smile, offer me greetings and congratulations.
I know I’m beaming, and I’m not even ashamed. Of course I’m grinning, this feels like magic. Strangers call out to me, “Good morning, princess,” or “Congratulations,” or “Garrick is so lucky to have you.”
When I hear that last one, I can’t help but snort. If only he thought he was lucky to have me.
Of course, he didn’t want to be married. I’m an inconvenience.
Still, everyone is friendly, and it brightens my heart to feel accepted by the people of Alpinweiss.
As I walk down the street, I poke my head into several little boutiques. I smile, remembering my conversation with my younger sister Dahlia. She told me that this wasn’t going to be some massive metropolis, with a shopping complex.
And I remember how just yesterday I had told her I didn’t need anything massive, that small shops and independent sellers were enough. I wasn’t looking for fancy; I was looking for adventure.
Walking into a shop with winter coats in the display window, I’m greeted by a silver-haired woman with bright eyes.
“Oh, Princess Iris, you came to shop here, at my little store?”
“I suppose so. I was charged with getting some winter apparel, and thought you might have some boots in my size? I’m a seven and a half.”
“Okay,” she says laughing. “Straight to the point. That’s good. No nonsense, just like Prince Garrick.” The woman takes my hand. “I’m Lindy.”
“I’m surprised, to be honest, that you know my name,” I admit. “I didn’t know the wedding was announced. But as I walked here this morning, so many people seemed to know about it.”
“Oh, I think little birdies were talking. Apparently the reception yesterday was quite lovely—not that anyone in town was invited, of course. But we’re not royalty.”
“Royalty, right.” Growing up in Elexia, royalty was a pretty much a joke. Yes, I’ve always had this title of Princess, but it’s not the way people imagine.
Whereas Cinderella married Prince Charming and danced the night away, that was never my life—and doesn’t seem like that’s what Garrick wants for his life, either.
That part, I can handle. I don’t need people fawning over me, or a personal assistant scheduling my hair appointments. Heck, I grew up with my older sister giving me a trim every six weeks. Hairdressers in Elexia? Out of the question.
“It’s surprising to see a princess walk around; the queen herself would never do such a thing. Not that I’m talking poorly about our Royal Highness. Of course not,” Lindy says.
“No? Where do they shop? Where does the Queen get her clothes?”
“Ordered from Paris, of course. She travels frequently. Going to royal courts is her favorite pastime. Though the castle is historic, she’s retrofitted every square inch, at least that’s what everyone says. I’ve never been inside the castle myself.”
“Right. I’ve only just been here a day, so I can’t speak to the Queen, but the castle was quite beautiful. And yes, the outside does appear rustic, but inside it was beautiful. Not overwhelmingly gaudy by any means, but definitely not... say, the place Prince Garrick lives.”
“You mean the cabin? Did he really take you there last night?” Lindy laughs. She looks through a rack of coats, and pulls out a few.
“He did.” I try on a tan coat and button it. The first one is too big and I try on a second, which fits better and is warmer too.
“You think Garrick would like this one?” I asked Lindy.
“I do. Garrick is comfortable, not one to put on airs. And I can’t imagine a wife of his flying to Paris for clothes.”
“I’ve never been to Paris,” I tell her.
She pulls out a pair of boots, and kneels down to help me put them on. They lace up, and are sturdy and practical.
I pull out my phone and take a picture in my new boots. I immediately think of Instagramming them with the hashtag #notexactlyglassslippers before remembering I deleted that app from my phone.
Oddly, I don’t miss it. I put my phone away and look back at Lindy.
“You know,” she says. “Garrick built that cabin when he was just a teenager. The thing about that boy is, he never seemed to care about what anyone thought. Especially his parents.”
“And the people of Alpinweiss?” I ask. “They think highly of him, even though he isn’t exactly a traditional Prince?” In my new boots, I walk to another shelf and pick out a few scarves, adding them to my growing pile
“Who needs a traditional Prince?” Lindy shrugs. “Garrick can always be found helping someone who lives here in town. Whether it’s joining in a game of kickball in the schoolyard, or helping at harvest in a local farmer’s fields. Garrick does things his own way. It may rub some people wrong, but no one who lives and works here has ever been offended by the way Garrick chooses to live his life.”
“I see,”
I say, biting my lip. It’s attractive, hearing so many compliments about him.
“You know, in his cabin, he doesn’t have electricity,” I confide, not quite knowing why. “Or hot water.”
Lindy laughs, shaking her head. “Oh that boy. He may be the prince of the people, but no way is that behavior going to fly when you’re someone’s husband.”
“So me asking for those things, you don’t think it’s asking too much?”
“Too much?” Linda shakes her head. “Men need a woman to help even them out, smooth their rough edges, so to speak.”
“Thanks Lindy. I know I’m not exactly a traditional princess, but I appreciate your frankness with me.”
Lindy rings me up and arranges to have the bags delivered to the cabin. Now that I know I’m not being too demanding by requiring my husband to get a refrigerator, I feel reinvigorated by the plan I concocted with Hunter and Violet this morning.
The hardest part about following through with the plan is that I really like Garrick. I want to be close to him again, soon.
And I want to see if our like could grow into something more. Not that I’m expecting that. Wanting to fall in love with the person you’ve been arranged to marry isn’t necessarily the most realistic mindset. But still, it would be amazing.
Smiling, I walk out of the shop and look for the next store on my list. Lucy’s Lederhosen and Lingerie is printed across the awning of the shop across the street.
Perfect.
16
I’m sitting there, having I don’t even know what number beer, when I see Iris poke her head into the bar.
“Is that your princess?” Kurt asks, nodding his head toward the entrance.
Apparently everyone knows who my new bride is. The article in Alpinweiss Times documented the wedding cake incident thoroughly enough to give Iris not only a face for our nation, but also to let everyone know how charming and adorable she is.