Royal Arrangement

by Ember Casey

  The closer we get to the city, the more energetic the celebrations become—and it isn’t unlike what we encountered in Montovia. Crowds singing and laughing, people throwing rice and flower petals, children waving tiny Rosvalian flags. Apparently the city has been waiting for our return—even though our wedding was in Montovia, the people of Rosvalia won’t be denied a party.

  Justine rolls down her window. I do the same with mine, waving to those we pass. People shout out my name, congratulating me, and in spite of my mood I find myself grinning back in response.

  At least I’m not completely unwelcome here.

  The deeper we go into the city, the more I see and hear the people of my new home, the higher my spirits become. My new wife might be determined to hate me, but her countrymen—now my countrymen—aren’t. If I have nothing else, I have that.

  This won’t be all bad, I tell myself. I’ll be every bit the prince they want. I’ll make them love me. I glance over at Justine. It will probably only piss off my new bride…but I’m okay with this. In fact, I welcome it—and I tell myself it’s not because she looks so irresistibly beautiful when she’s angry.

  We’ve reached the bridge. It’s as big and ornate as I remember, and the carved stone railings on either side of it are decorated with ribbons and flowers. Music drifts in through the windows, and it takes me a moment to locate the musicians—they’re in a boat on the river below, playing for us.

  The palace is just ahead of us now. It’s taller than my home back in Montovia, but not quite as sprawling. And while Montovia’s palace was on a hilltop, surrounded by grounds and gardens, my new home is right in the middle of the city. There are a few gardens between the palace walls and the streets, but not nearly as many.

  I hope they have a gym, at least. If I don’t have a way of working off frustration, I’m not sure I’ll survive here for very long.

  The car stops right in front of the palace’s gates, which are nearly two stories tall and plated with pure gold. A footman opens the door on Justine’s side.

  “Welcome home, Your Highness,” he tells her, helping her out of the car. The gathered crowd explodes into cheers when they see her.

  I come next, and the crowd’s response is just as enthusiastic for me. I grin and wave.

  “Kiss!” someone shouts from the crowd. “Kiss!”

  Others around him take up the cry, until several hundred people are chanting along, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

  Montovia has certain traditions about royal couples and wedding kisses, but apparently Rosvalia has no such customs. I look down at Justine, whose cheeks have suddenly gone quite red.

  Weil, well, how does the princess plan to manage this situation? I have no intention of making the call—no doubt any decision I make will be taken entirely the wrong way. Besides, I rather like watching her squirm.

  I wave at the crowd again, still grinning, but the chants only get louder.

  Suddenly, I feel Justine’s hand on my hard.

  “We should probably give them what they want,” she says through her pasted-on smile. “But it better be short and chaste.”

  I turn my smile onto her, lowering my voice. “Princess, nothing is ever short and chaste with me.”

  I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her close to me. I lower my face slowly, and the crowd’s cheers intensify.

  Her eyes show a mix of emotions—she looks half like she wants to shove me away and half like she wants to sink into the ground. But I’d swear there’s something else there, too—something infinitely more intriguing.

  I pause. For all my joking last night, I meant what I said—she can trust me not to touch her against her will. I’m not sure where this situation falls.

  But as I hesitate, she gives me a small, almost imperceptible nod. Her eyes fall closed.

  Guess we’re doing this, then.

  I close the distance between us, bringing my lips down on hers.

  The crowd’s cheers become a deafening roar. But that’s the only thing I’m aware of outside of her.

  Her mouth is just as soft as I imagined it would be—soft and warm and delicate. But her lips are closed, keeping me from tasting her any deeper than that.

  Slowly, I let my tongue slide against her bottom lip, teasing her. I feel a shiver move through her—but then, suddenly, she stiffens. She jerks back from me.

  Before I even have a chance to register what’s happened, she’s already smiling again for the crowd.

  “Thank you,” she calls to them with a wave.

  She takes off for the gates without another glance at me. I quickly recover and catch up with her, sending my own greetings and thanks to the crowd as I go.

  When we reach the gates, there’s an entire team of people waiting for us. In the center of it all stands Justine’s brother, Prince Reginald. I don’t think I dislike anyone the way I dislike him—and I suspect he feels the same way about every single member of my family.

  He’s smiling now, but in a way that makes my hand clench involuntarily at my side.

  “Welcome home, Sister,” he says to Justine. Then his eyes move to me. “And I suppose we have to call each other ‘Brother’ now.”

  “I suppose that would be true,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

  Reginald’s eyes gleam. “Don’t worry, Brother,” he says, his lips curling into a sneer as he says the words. “I’ll make sure you feel quite at home here.”

  Justine

  I glare at my brother, showing him my exact feelings about his veiled threats to my husband.

  My husband…with whom I just shared my first kiss.

  I shake my head, trying to get the memory of that kiss out of my mind as quickly as possible. While William might make my body respond in ways I’d rather not admit, there is no way he will ever convince me to do anything outside the rather limited amount of public affection we’ll have to display.

  But that kiss… No. There will be no further thoughts about kisses or anything that kissing might lead to. At least not with him.

  I edge around my brother and head straight for the palace doors, not waiting to see if William follows. I suppose if he must have it out with my brother, now would be as good a time as any. I’m not quite certain what the issue is between Reginald and the Montovian princes, but it must have happened early in their childhoods, before I was old enough to be aware of such matters at any rate. While I very rarely take my brother’s side on any issue, if he wants to cause trouble with William, I can’t say that I would stop him.

  I’m through the palace doors before I notice William trailing behind me. He doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry—I’m not sure what he’s admiring outside. The gardens at the Rosvalian palace don’t in any way rival those in Montovia. Not much in Rosvalia rivals Montovia, but it is a lovely country nonetheless. We don’t have the wealth they have—particularly since they’ve taken the Amhurst Valley from us—but what we do have is beautiful.

  My assistant, Lisette, is waiting for me just inside the doors when I enter. “Your Highness.” She curtsies. “I have many messages.”

  I don’t even risk a glance behind me. “I’m only interested in hearing about the event. The others can wait.”

  She strides alongside me, going through the notes in her hand. “There are several. But only two have declined. The rest have accepted your invitation.”

  I stop and turn to her. “Only…two declined?” I can hardly believe it. I’d thought for certain I’d be laughed at by the world for even attempting—

  “So many parties, so little time. Right, Princess?” William chuckles.

  I shoot him a look that should tip him over dead if there’s truly a deity above. But he doesn’t fall, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed.

  Lisette looks at him, her brows drawn together with confusion. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t believe we’ve had the honor of meeting.”

  William lifts a brow, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was offended at my assis
tant’s forward manner.

  I smile, glancing between them. It is somewhat impertinent that Lisette didn’t at least give him a half-curtsy, but I suppose that is too bad for my husband and his precious ego. “Lisette, meet my husband, His Royal Highness, Prince William of Montovia.”

  “Charmed.” He gives her one of his dazzling grins and pulls her hand into his, kissing the back of her fingers.

  Something twists in my gut at the sight, and I can’t say I’m sure what it is. Jealousy would certainly make little sense—I can barely stand the sight of William, let alone care if he kisses the back of another woman’s hand. Lisette is young—slightly older than me, closer to William’s age, probably. And she is quite beautiful, though I’ve never had reason to take notice until this moment.

  I cover whatever it is that continues to twist in my stomach with one of my plastic smiles. “Lisette is my assistant. I—”

  “You need an assistant, Princess? For what reason? You really require assistance with all your…activities?” He laughs.

  It takes every ounce of my will to not punch him. “Lisette helps me coordinate my activities, yes.”

  “Because you’re so busy. What with all the princessy duties you have and all.” He laughs again. “My mother doesn’t even have an assistant, and she’s the queen—”

  “Lisette was assigned to me when I took the position as head of the Rosvalian Council for the Arts when I returned home from my studies.” I stare at him for a moment, my plastic smile still firmly on my lips. “So, yes. She assists me with my activities, as well as a number of other duties, Your Highness.”

  “You…work?”

  “I know it’s difficult to believe, Your Highness.” I glare daggers at him through my fake smile. “What with all my…how did you put it? Princessy duties? I suppose you believe that includes lying about on my settee all day, being fed bonbons by my many servants.”

  He blinks at me a few times, his stupid grin gone from his face. “Yes. I suppose I had imagined something like that.”

  “I thought as much. When in fact, I’m arranging an international conference to promote arts in the schools. It’s somewhat different than what you’ve imagined I do.”

  His voice is flat. “I…thought you wrote poetry.”

  “And I do. In my spare time. Which I have very little of these days.” I turn to Lisette. “I’ll take the messages in my office. I’ll try to find some time to come by this afternoon, after I get my husband settled into our suite.”

  “In your…spare time.” William is parroting everything I’m saying on some sort of delay, almost as though he can’t believe what he’s saying himself.

  Lisette smiles. “You two really didn’t take the time to get to know each other very well before you jumped in with both feet, did you?” She chuckles. “I don’t think anyone could pay me enough to endure an arranged marriage.” She flicks her gaze to mine and tilts her head toward mine, making it difficult for William to be able to hear. She lowers her voice, speaking directly into my ear. “Though you certainly could have done much worse.”

  I’m not so certain about that.

  “Lovely to meet you, Your Highness.” She finally dips into a slight curtsy and walks down the corridor toward the small bank of offices in this wing.

  “She’s…your assistant.” William’s brow is furrowed. “Because you…work.”

  “Don’t worry, Your Highness. It isn’t as though I spend every waking moment working.”

  “I wasn’t…worried.” He’s still looking at me as though I’ve grown a second—and perhaps a third—head. “I’m… You’re a poet. A published poet.”

  “Yes, and you’ve given me plenty to write about in the past few days.”

  “But…but…”

  “But what, Your Highness? Did you really think I sat about all day writing amusing little rhymes? Roses are red, violets are blue, my mother married an asshole, and now I did, too.” I stare at him for a moment. “What exactly did you think I did all day?”

  “I don’t know. The same thing as my sister, I suppose. Going off on holidays, spending your father’s money on outrageously expensive shopping trips. Those sorts of things.”

  I glare at him for a moment longer. “Rosvalia isn’t Montovia. I don’t go on extravagant shopping trips because most of the people in my country couldn’t afford to go on one. Why would I try to rub their nose in the fact that I can when they cannot?”

  “Because…because you’re a noblewoman, and noblewomen don’t care what the public thinks of them.”

  I lift a brow. “And yet, you realize that when your brother invited me to his stupid pageant, I only did it to get some free press for my conference, did you not? You didn’t really think I agreed because I thought I would be marrying him, did you?”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I thought you were doing.”

  “Well, you were wrong.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “No, you were the frontrunner. If Victoria and Andrew hadn’t…” He shakes his head again. “No, he was definitely going to choose you if he hadn’t chosen Victoria.”

  “And I would have accepted. He and I would have made an exceedingly good match.”

  His face flushes crimson. “I’ve no doubt of that.”

  “Good.”

  He shakes his head again. “I don’t have the energy to argue right now. Might you show me to my room?”

  “Your room, Your Highness?”

  He nods. “Yes, my room. I don’t think I can suffer another night—”

  “Well, you’ll be suffering a good deal longer than a night, Your Highness. You won’t be getting your own suite, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I fold my arms over my chest in indignance. “I wasn’t about to allow rumors to begin in Montovia. I wouldn’t dream of allowing them to start here.” I glare at him for a moment longer. “No, Your Highness, you won’t be getting your own suite. You’ll be sharing a suite with me.”

  William

  I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised we’re going to be sharing a room here.

  We’re not even twenty-four hours into this, and she’s already surprising me in more ways than I anticipated, though—some bad and some good. Learning that she’s organizing a conference definitely falls under the “good” category. No matter her faults, at least she’s not as vapid as some of the other noblewomen I’ve met in my life. I’m not going to lie—she’s definitely gone up a few points in my esteem.

  Of course, that still doesn’t mean I’m enthusiastic about sharing a suite with her—but I’ll be damned if I let her see that.

  “Lead the way, Princess,” I tell her with a grin. “Perhaps you might give me a quick tour of the palace while you’re at it—after all, this is now my home for the rest of our lives.”

  She looks less than pleased by that idea.

  “Let’s go to the suite first,” she says. “We’ve had a long car ride and we both need to freshen up.”

  “Whatever my Princess needs. Though I must say, you smell as fresh as a rose.”

  She rolls her eyes as she turns away from me. “It’s not me who smells.”

  Even though I know she’s trying to get under my skin, I give my armpit a quick sniff, just in case. I smell fine—I took a quick shower at the gymnasium last night after working through my fencing exercises.

  I catch up with her in a handful of strides.

  “At least you have a sense of humor,” I say. “Can you imagine how dull our lives would be if we couldn’t laugh at each other?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “You find all of this amusing?”

  “Don’t you?” I shrug. “In my life so far I’ve found that humor is usually the best way to deal with any situation, especially those that we find especially challenging. It keeps things in perspective.”

  “Or just leaves other people thinking you’re insane.”

  “Coming from you, that might be a compliment.”

  �
��Now you’re just trying to make me angry.”

  “Or trying to make you smile.”

  That earns me another eye roll. “You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are, you know.”

  “That’s not what my mother tells me.”

  And then I see it—the slight quirking of the corner of her mouth. She’s fighting a smile, but she turns her face away rather than let me see it.

  “Our suite is just up here,” she says, leading me up a small staircase.

  My point made—not that Justine would ever admit it—I turn my attention to our surroundings. Justine has pointed out a couple of times now that Rosvalia isn’t as wealthy as Montovia, but this palace is certainly as ornate as the one where I grew up. Delicate sconces line the wall, and between them, portraits hang in gilded frames. The carpets beneath our feet are thick and look quite expensive. Justine may refrain from excessive spending because of the plight of her people, but whoever decorated this palace showed no such restraint. And my brief but memorable impressions of her father and brother were of men quite interested in showing off their power and wealth.

  When we reach the top of the stairs, we’re at the head of another corridor. There are only a couple of rooms that I can see, and Justine leads me to a set of double doors at the very end of the hallway.

  “This is it,” she says, pushing open the doors.

  The room inside is more modern than I expected—far more contemporary than any of our suites back home. A couple of uniformed attendants are still unpacking our luggage. They bow and curtsy when they see us.

  “Everything is just as your mother appointed, Your Highness,” the woman says to Justine. “Please let us know if there’s anything else you need. We should have your things put away within the hour.”

  “Thank you, Marie,” Justine says. “But we can—” She cuts herself off then looks at me. “We won’t get in your way, I promise.”

  The woman—Marie—nods. “Thank you, Your Highness.” She looks and me and curtsies. “Your Highness.”

  Justine doesn’t want to be alone with me, I realize. I wonder what she’s so afraid of—after all, I proved last night that I have no intention of taking advantage of her the moment we’re alone behind closed doors.