Royal Arrangement

by Ember Casey

  Two can play at this, Princess.

  I’m not sure what she’s trying to do, not exactly, but I won’t fall for it. She has no idea who she’s toying with.

  Her eyes are still closed, her breath coming fast. She’s waiting, and I’d bet my inheritance that she’s expecting me to kiss her.

  I step closer to the bed and pick up her free hand. A small tremor moves through her hand at my touch—it’s a good trick, but I’m not going to fall for it.

  I raise her hand, bringing it nearly to my lips. She doesn’t want trust—she’s made that quite clear. And I won’t be the fool in this.

  My mouth hovers over her skin. She must feel my breath against the back of her palm, because she shivers again. I lower her hand, stepping even closer to her.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” I tell her.

  She obeys, but I see her fingers clench slightly on the fabric of her dress, keeping it close to her chest. That’s all I need to see to know that I’ve judged this situation exactly right.

  “Trust is a tricky thing, isn’t it?” I say. My knees brush against the skirt of her dress—I’m as close as I need to get. “So hard to earn, especially in a situation like ours. And so easy to break. But we all want it, in spite of how tenuous it is. We want to believe the best in people. We long for the connection it brings.”

  I lean forward, bringing my face closer to hers. Her breath catches slightly. Her hand is still in mine, and I find my fingers shifting over hers, feeling for the wedding ring that symbolizes this sham of a marriage.

  This close, I can smell her, and the scent of her sends a new rush of blood to my cock. God, this would be a lot easier if she weren’t so damned intoxicating.

  “We can have that,” I tell her, my breath stirring an errant curl that has fallen against her cheek. “We can choose to trust each other, to make the best of what we’ve been given. We can have a real marriage. Is that what you want?”

  Her breath catches again, as if she means to speak—but before she can respond, I rush on.

  “We can have trust. And happiness. And someday, perhaps, even love. Isn’t that what you’ve always dreamed of? Sharing those things with someone? Isn’t that what all of the storybooks teach us to hope for?”

  I bring my free hand up to her face, letting my fingers trail lightly across her jaw. Her skin is so soft. My hand drifts up her cheek, caressing her, before my fingers disappear into her hair. I turn her face slightly toward mine.

  My mouth is so close to hers. I can taste her breath on my lips, breathe it in as she breathes in mine. One tilt of my chin and my mouth would be on hers.

  “Is that what you want, Princess?” I ask her. “All those things in your fantasies?”

  Her lips fall open, and the word is almost a sigh. “Yes.”

  I grin. “I thought that’s what you’d say. Fortunately, for you, Princess, you can trust me.” I straighten, pulling my face away from hers and dropping her hand unceremoniously. “I must say, you put on a good act. But I’m better. Your tricks might work with other men, but I’m not a fool.” This was almost too easy.

  Her eyes fly open. “What?”

  “This little game you’re playing,” I say, gesturing between us. “I’m not sure what you intend to accomplish, but this isn’t exactly the best way to build trust between us.”

  “What game?” she demands, anger flashing in her eyes. “The only one who seems to be playing a game here is you.”

  “That’s what all women say when they’ve been caught.” I smile. “They deny everything and then try to turn it back around on you. As I said, Princess, those sorts of tricks don’t work on me.”

  She stands, her dress still clutched to her chest. There’s fire in her eyes.

  “You’re the one playing tricks,” she says. “Talking about trust and then… If you think this is how you get me to trust you then you’re an idiot.”

  “On the contrary, I think I’ve just proved exactly why you can trust me.” I spread my hands, still smiling. “You spent most of the day making your feelings for me and for this marriage quite clear. And when you suddenly and suspiciously decided to change your tune, rather than trying to take advantage of you, I decided to take you at your initial word. If anything, I’d say I passed your test with flying colors.”

  Her mouth tightens, and her free hand curls into a fist.

  “Get out of here,” she demands. “Now.”

  I give a shallow bow. “Whatever my dear Princess wishes.”

  “Get out!”

  She doesn’t have to tell me again—not when she looks like she’s two seconds away from giving me a juicy black eye. I bow again and move toward the door.

  The moment I’m out of the room, she grabs the door and slams it behind me. I hear the lock click.

  “Goodnight, Princess,” I say sweetly.

  “Get fucked!” she yells back.

  I can’t help it—such language from her only makes me laugh. I’m grinning as I step away from the door.

  That should show her I won’t be played with, I think, returning to the sofa and my half-empty flute of champagne. She’s definitely every bit the handful I expected her to be. And every bit as exhilarating.

  My smile falls as I swallow the last of the champagne. As amused as I am by the little stunt I just pulled off, I have to admit that part of me, at least, was left rather…unsatisfied. And that part of me is begging for a little release I definitely won’t be getting from Justine any time soon.

  I release a long breath and run a hand through my hair. Looks like now might be a good time to sneak out to the gymnasium and work off some of this…tension.

  I head to the suite’s main door, and I don’t stop to look back at the bedroom, no matter how much I want to.

  Justine

  I’m awakened the following morning by a pounding on my door.

  I ignore it. It can only be one person, and after the way he treated me last night, I’ll never given him another chance. Never.

  The pounding on my door sounds again, and again I don’t respond. After another minute of banging, William’s voice comes through the door. “Princess. You need to open the door.”

  I’ll admit I considered leaving last night, but there was no good way to remove myself from this palace. Our bridal suite is on the third floor, and while I’m quite certain I could have found something outside to assist me in descending the wall, the only thing I have to wear at the moment is my wedding dress. As much as I would have wanted to run away, doing so in my underwear hardly seemed possible.

  “Princess, please.” William bangs on the door again, and once again, I don’t respond.

  He had his chance. I’ll not be humiliated by him again, that much is certain. Trying to win his favor was a momentary lapse in judgment, one I’ll not make the mistake of pursuing again. No, he made his feelings toward me quite clear last night, and it will be an icy day in hell before I give him another chance to so much as look at me, let alone touch me.

  “Princess, they are on their way up with our breakfast and soon after, they will be on their way with our clothing for our travel. Have you forgotten what we discussed yesterday?”

  Indeed, I have not. I’ve not forgotten a single thing, nor will I be forgetting any time soon. I’ve also not forgotten how my husband abandoned me on my wedding night, choosing instead to leave our suite for God-knows-where. I must have fallen asleep at some point, but it was well into the morning when I did, and he had still not returned.

  If he thinks I’m some bitch of a noblewoman, he’s about to find out just how much of one I can be.

  He pounds again on the door. “Princess, I beg of you.”

  “You beg of me, do you?” I pull bed sheet around my naked body, not that he can see me through the double wooden doors he’s so loudly yelling through. But if he were to be so stupid as to attempt to break down the door—or worse, to pick the locks—I need to be prepared. There is no way the man is ever going to see me nude. Not after h
is stunt last night.

  “Yes, Princess.” His tone is acidic, much as it was last night. “You do remember how we discussed the rumors that are certain to start if we aren’t found by the staff this morning…together.”

  “Let them talk. Let them speculate on how horrible a husband I have.”

  “Are you certain they won’t be speculating what a horrible wife I have?”

  “I’ll be certain to let my lady’s maid know the truth about you when she comes this morning.”

  “And what truth would that be, Princess?”

  I get out of bed, my sheet still wrapped around me, and I walk over to the door, speaking directly to it. “I’ll let her know exactly what transpired last night.”

  “Oh, really?” His tone is almost mocking me now, though there is nothing playful about it. “You’re going to tell her that your little game didn’t work on me? That you were caught toying with me and failed?”

  “On the contrary, Your Highness.” I unlatch the door and pull it open, just enough to look up at him. “I’m going to tell her you failed me as a lover.”

  His cheeks burn a shade of crimson I’ve only rarely seen on a man. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, I would. And I shall.” I step back and slam the door in his face again, turning the latch before he can force his way in.

  “I may tell my valet that you are frigid, then.”

  “Go ahead. The valets don’t gossip nearly as much as the lady’s maids. By the time mine is out of my suite, the entire palace will know of your dysfunction.”

  “I assure you, Princess, I have no dysfunction.”

  You’ll wish that was all you had when I’m through with you.

  He’s made a mockery of me once. I’ll never, ever allow him to do it again.

  And if he thought noblewomen were all rotten in one way or another, he has never met the likes of me.

  “Princess, please. I’m certain we can come to some sort of…arrangement.”

  “There is no arrangement that will satisfy me, Your Highness.”

  “I’m certain that we can come up with something.”

  “What are you offering?”

  “Whatever you want.” He pauses. “Aside from an annulment, of course. We both know that is out of the question.”

  Perhaps it is, and perhaps it is not. We’ll see if my father is as vicious as you, good William.

  “I’m prepared to offer you anything.”

  “Anything? You must have reason to think the rumors I’m about to start about you would be believed. Perhaps you do have some dysfunction then?”

  He growls, so loudly I can hear it through the door. “As I said—”

  “Frankly, Your Highness, I don’t care what you say. Tell your valet I’m frigid. I dare you to. Tell your brothers, too. I can assure you, I’ll ruin you regardless. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  He laughs. “I don’t believe you’re capable of starting a rumor, let alone starting a false one.”

  “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  “Princess, if you would just open the door—”

  I stomp over to the door, unlatching it and swinging it open. “Then what? I’ve opened the door, Your Highness. Now what?”

  “Now…” His eyes fall to my nearly naked chest. The sheet wrapped around me is doing little to cover anything. “Now… Now…” He can’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

  And I can use this to my advantage, I think. I let the sheet fall slightly, exposing the top of my breasts, but only barely.

  I deepen my voice. “Now….what? Now what, Your Highness?”

  He lets out a shaky breath. “Now…nothing. We only need to be seen together, and this way is as good as any.”

  “Then so be it.”

  It’s almost as though my words summon the attendants to the door with our breakfast. A servant pushes in a cart and sets the breakfast trays on the table in the sitting room, quickly making his way back out the door without a word or even a glance in our direction.

  “There, Your Highness. Are you happy? I’ve been seen by one of your servants nearly naked—”

  “No.” He turns to face me. “I am not happy. What is this game you’re playing, Princess? I must admit, you confuse the hell out of me.”

  I adjust the sheet entwined around me, tucking it into the front to get it to stay up without my hands. “I’ve already told you, Your Highness, I’m not playing any games. I extended an olive branch to you last night, and you swatted it out of my hand.”

  “That’s what you consider an olive branch?” He laughs. “I hardly consider that particular brand of game any sort of truce.”

  “You think I was toying with you last night? That’s what you think? That I’m a tease?”

  He frowns. “That is exactly what I think, Princess. That you are a tease.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.” I walk over and sit on the sofa, lifting one of the lids from the serving tray. “The last thing anyone would ever say about me is that I’m a tease.” I pop a strawberry into my mouth, speaking again with my mouth full. “Not that you know me at all.”

  He watches me for a moment before taking the seat next to me. “No, I suppose I do not.”

  He slides his hand next to mine, not quite touching me, but so close that I can feel the heat from his body.

  But I’m not about to let myself be seduced by him. I’m not about to let him touch me again or make me succumb to his charms. No, I have a much better idea.

  I take his hand in mine and he startles. “What…?” Something in his expression softens, and his grin returns. “I’m glad to see a little breakfast has you in a better mood.”

  “Oh, indeed it does.” I lace his fingers through mine. “Are you fond of this hand?”

  “Your hand?” He laughs, though there is definitely something nervous about it. “Yes, I suppose I could be—”

  “No, not my hand. Your hand. Is this your dominant hand?”

  He nods. “Yes, I’m right-handed. What of it—?”

  “I just want you to be aware, Your Highness.” I lift his fingers to my lips, giving them a quick peck before I give him my best, most condescending smile. “That this hand will be your only form of pleasure for as long as we’re to be married.”

  William

  My wife is a nightmare.

  Because of her dramatics, we barely avoided a small crisis this morning. This marriage will be difficult enough without the public constantly speculating about the state of it. We’re trying to unite our countries—if people think Justine and I hate each other, then we’re undermining the reason we’re making this sacrifice in the first place.

  And it looks like I’ll be making a lot more sacrifices than I originally anticipated, I think, looking down at my hand. Justine’s comments from this morning still sting, but I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t tell the entire palace I had trouble performing last night. As much as I hate to leave Montovia, at least she won’t be able to make threats like that from now on.

  I glance out the window of the car. We left the palace two hours ago—after a long ceremony of farewell, during which my mother cried—and I’m well on the way to my new life.

  In hell, apparently.

  I’ve been to Rosvalia only twice in my life, despite the fact that it’s Montovia’s neighbor—our shaky relations with them made them an unlikely holiday spot. We’ve just crossed the border, and so far everything looks much the same—snow-capped mountains in the distance, villages dotting the green hills on either side of the road. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said we were still in Montovia.

  Justine sits beside me, staring out the opposite window. We both managed to paste on smiles during the departure ceremony, but neither of us has attempted any sort of conversation since the car doors were shut behind us. Part of me thinks I should try and bridge the chasm that’s been growing between us, but another, more cynical part of me wonders why I should bother exerting the effort—I know exactly how
such an attempt would be received.

  At least I drove my point home last night, I tell myself. She won’t try any tricks like that again. No—she’ll just resort to threatening my manhood.

  My eyes drift over the rolling landscape outside. She’s going to have to come around eventually—we both know we’ll have to have a couple of children eventually. But I suspect the people of Rosvalia will be waiting quite a while for that.

  “Your Highnesses,” the driver says through the intercom. “You can see the capital ahead.”

  I crane my neck, leaning my cheek almost against the window so that I might see the capital city. My new home.

  Like our capital city, Rosvalia’s capital is built on a hill. The sun gleams off the buildings—many of which are built of a pale salt stone—and the effect is nearly blinding. But I can see the towers of the palace in the heart of it all, sitting there like a many-headed dragon.

  The city was built where two rivers join. If I remember correctly from my childhood visit here, there’s a grand bridge spanning the larger of the rivers, leading right into the center of the city. It’s a spectacular bit of architecture—if one’s inclined to think of anything in Rosvalia as spectacular, which I am not at the moment.

  Justine and I continue to sit in silence as we approach the city. I’m fine with that—we’ve managed a sort of quiet peace, which is the best I can hope for right now.

  As we reach the outskirts of the city, though, I realize that quiet isn’t in the cards for us. The rolling hills give way to farms which give way to villages, and with the infrastructure comes the people—small crowds have gathered along the sides of the roads, waiting to watch the royal procession pass, and they cheer for us as the car rolls by.