by Ember Casey
I walk over to the window, pretending to be completely unconcerned by all of this. It still hasn’t quite hit home yet that this is where I’ll be living for the rest of my life, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before it feels real.
Our suite overlooks a small courtyard with a fountain shaped like two swans with their necks intertwined—at least I think it’s swans. From this angle it looks almost like some monstrous beast spewing water out of its tentacles.
Maybe I’ll take up stone carving, I think. It’s occurred to me these past few days that it might be beneficial to pick up a few new hobbies—my days from now on are bound to be long and dull, especially if my wife isn’t fond of my company. So far, my list of ways to distract myself is quite short. Thus far, it includes finding the gym and using it at every chance, making the people of Rosvalia love me, and convincing my new wife that I am not, in fact, the devil. Adding in a ridiculous hobby like sculpting fountains might be a delightful way of rounding that out.
Who am I kidding? If I don’t find something fulfilling to do with myself soon, I’m going to go insane. The main reason I agreed to this bloody marriage was to do something meaningful, to actually make a difference for my family and for Montovia. With one move, I’ve both settled a decades-long dispute between our countries and given my oldest brother the freedom to marry the woman he loves. I need to keep reminding myself of that.
I run a hand through my hair. I need a drink—a strong one. I hope they keep the liquor well stocked here.
I turn away from the window. Justine is helping the attendants unpack her things. Perhaps I should offer to help unpack mine, but I’m feeling too restless right now.
“On second thought, I don’t think I need to freshen up,” I say. “I think I might go explore a little.”
Justine starts, as if for a moment, she’d forgotten I was here. “I’d like to finish unpacking—”
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I can find my way around my myself.”
I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile, but judging by the way her eyebrows draw together, I suspect I just look suspicious.
“I’ll stay out of trouble, I promise,” I say. “Is there any part of the palace that’s off limits to me?”
“Not…not precisely. I just don’t think…” Her eyes slide to the attendants, who seem to be trying very hard to pretend they aren’t listening.
If she’s worried about her audience, then I can work with that.
“Stay here and rest, sweetheart,” I tell her sweetly. “I just need to stretch my legs a little. If I get lost, I’ll just ask someone how to get back here. Not all men are averse to asking for directions.” I give her a wink.
She flinches when I called her sweetheart, and by the time I’m done speaking, that a little spark of anger is dancing in her eyes. She knows I’m pushing her buttons on purpose, but we both know she won’t start anything in front of the palace staff.
“I’ll see you in a little while,” I say, stepping toward her and giving her a peck on the cheek. “You can give me that personal tour you promised me after you’ve rested.”
I turn and stride toward the door, fighting a grin of triumph.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Justine says, her voice sugary. “See you later.”
But I can feel her glaring daggers at my back the entire way out of the room.
Justine
When William has not returned after several hours, I decide to give up on waiting for him. Why should I care if he’d rather lose himself on a self-guided tour around the palace than spend time with me? It isn’t as though I’ve given him much reason to want to get to know me, let alone want to spend time with me.
I walk to my office. As much as I might want to rest, I have far too much work to do to get ready for this conference. When my father appointed me to my position, the Rosvalian Arts Council barely existed. I suppose I’m fortunate that one of my classmates from university took a position at the American version of the Council. With his connections, far more countries have decided to participate. More than I ever could have convinced on my own, anyway.
Getting publicity for this conference was really the only reason I had agreed to participate in Prince Andrew’s little game of choosing a wife. Of course, if he had chosen me, I’m certain we would have made a fine match. A tolerable one, at any rate. William is far less compatible. He’s obnoxious, cocky, and thinks he’s some sort of comedian.
If he wasn’t so attractive, I’d have no problem ignoring him for the rest of my life. For the rest of this sham of a marriage, anyway. I still have no idea what my father has planned to get me out of this, but perhaps I can find a way out on my own. If I’m the insufferable noblewoman he seems to think I am, perhaps he’ll decide to leave of his own will.
Not that I could be that way if I tried. If William would shut up and listen instead of trying to make light of everything, he might find that we agree on at least one thing—most noblewomen are insufferable. I suppose I might be that way myself if I’d not actively shunned almost every part of this life. I’ve learned to play my role—I know how to smile and wave at the people of Rosvalia as well as anyone in my family. But secretly, I’ve always wished to be a commoner.
When I was at university in America, it was easy to pretend I wasn’t royal. I’m not famous, at least not outside Rosvalia, unlike William and his brothers. It was freeing, not having the responsibilities of being the Princess of Rosvalia. And it’s all I wish to do now. Hopefully, my father was telling me the truth when he said I only had to last three months in this ridiculous marriage. I’ve managed to make it almost two days—hopefully, the next ninety-eight or so will be less eventful.
I work at my desk for a little while, answering email and trying to finalize some of the conference events. When I hear the knocking on my office door, I expect it will be Lisette, my assistant.
The door opens before I can call out for her to come in, but it isn’t my assistant at the door. It’s William, and my brother is standing behind him.
William glares at me. “Will you please advise your brother that I am your husband?”
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “What?”
“This…” William growls as he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “This… Your brother does not seem to remember me, though I believe we’ve met on numerous occasions.”
Reginald laughs, shoving William through the doorway.
William’s fists clench, and it would seem by the tightness in his jaw, he’s doing everything he can to not turn around and punch my brother.
I stand. “What is this? I’m trying to work—”
“Your brother seems to think it…” William growls again. “He seems to think it funny that your guards apprehended me.”
“As they do to those trespassing on the palace grounds.” Reginald smiles. “We do open the grounds to peasants such as yourself from time to time.”
William glares at me. “You’re not going to say anything?”
My glance shifts between the two men and I sit back down. “I’m working. I have no time to referee your stupid games.”
“Justine.” William almost growls the next word. “Sweetheart.”
That sends Reginald into a full belly laugh, and he doubles over, clutching at his abdomen. “My God, this is better than I ever could have imagined.”
“Out. Both of you.” I glare at the two of them.
“Justine…” Something in William’s expression softens. “Please. I can’t be treated as some trespasser. Not if this is to be my home—”
I fold my hands on top of my desk. “Well, sweetheart, I suppose if you hadn’t left our suite in the hurry you did, I could have explained to you—”
Reginald interrupts with another round of laughing.
“You could have explained that I’d be treated as some sort of criminal?” His brows draw together. “Do you realize that I was held in a prison cell for the better part of three hours before this…” He hitches his
thumb over his shoulder again. “Before this asshole decided to bring me here?”
Part of me wants to laugh with my brother, but another part of me feels something I didn’t expect. There’s a slight twist in my gut—it almost seems like it might be guilt. “If you’d asked the guards to call me—”
“I did. I did ask them to call. But I believe your brother thought it some sort of joke to have me held against my will. I heard him with my own ears—I heard him tell the guards I was trespassing and to throw me into a cell.”
I frown. “I’m certain my brother was merely joking.” Even as I say the words, I know they aren’t true. I’m just not sure if I should be defending my brother or my husband. “Weren’t you, Reginald?”
He laughs again. “Of course. Consider it my initiation into our family.” He pauses for a moment. “Brother.”
William’s fists clench again and he finally turns to face Reginald. “I will kill you with my bare hands, you—”
“Enough.” I stand from my desk again. “That’s enough. Reginald, you can go now. And I expect you won’t be initiating my husband any further.”
He grins. “Oh, I expect I’ll be initiating him much more in the days and weeks to come.” He claps William on the shoulder, and even I can see it is nearly a punch. “See you soon. Brother.” He turns, laughing again as he walks into the corridor.
William slams the door behind him. “I expect you to defend me from such—”
“You expect? And what have you done for me to make you expect that I would defend you at all?”
“I married you.”
“Ha. We both know there is no marriage here.” I sit again, shaking my head. “I would ask you to leave, but I’m sure Reginald has a guard posted somewhere to apprehend you again should you decide to walk alone through the hallways.” I glance up at him. “What were you thinking? Surely your palace has similar measures in place. If I went walking through your palace in Montovia—”
“I live here now. I am not merely a guest.” He glares at me, and there’s no trace of his usual good humor. “Do you know how humiliating an experience—?”
“Yes, I have some idea what humiliation feels like, Your Highness. I do remember how you treated me last night.”
“That was not the same thing at all.” His jaw clenches. “That was merely me trying to teach you a lesson—”
“Oh, I’m to be taught lessons now? How lucky am I, getting to learn lessons from my husband?”
“You know what I mean.” His gaze narrows. “You know exactly what I mean—”
“Because you are capable of reading my mind?” I press a hand to my chest. “Oh, I am lucky. Not only do I have a husband to teach me, I have someone capable of mind reading. I am the luckiest woman in the world.”
His jaw clenches. “If you’d be so kind as to point out the direction of the gymnasium—”
“We have no gymnasium.” I narrow my gaze to match his. “And you’d probably be wise not to walk alone through the palace at the moment, as we’ve already discussed. I realize it is only you who is able to teach me, but I have lived here with my brother my entire life. And I’m certain he isn’t done with you yet.”
“Then kindly tell the guards that I am now a permanent resident—”
“That has yet to be decided.” I smile. “Should you continue to treat me badly, I’m certain my father—”
“I’ve not treated you in any such manner, Princess.” The condescending tone is back in his voice, much as it has been since our wedding. “Please kindly escort me back to our suite, then.”
“As you can see, I’m quite busy.” I gesture to my computer. “Unlike you, I have an actual profession.”
“I have a…profession.” He frowns. “I—”
“Yes, I know. You’re a professional…prince. Is that it? You ride your horse in parades and call it a day’s work—”
“You have no idea what I do, Princess. I—”
“I have an idea that perhaps you need to stop calling me Princess as though it is some sort of derogatory term. Because unlike you, I actually do something that matters—”
“I’ve represented my family to the senate. When my father was ill, I—”
“Once? You’ve worked a single day in your life, and you call it a profession?” I give him my sweetest smile. “You have had it rough, haven’t you, Your Highness?”
He growls. “I am not having this conversation. I will not defend myself. You don’t know me—”
“And you don’t know me.”
He glares at me for a long moment before he walks over and sits in the chair in front of my desk. “Fine, Princess. Tell me the story of your life.”
William
For a moment she just stares at me, and I swear I see surprise in her blue eyes.
Then, with a small shake of her head, she gives a bitter laugh. “Very funny, Your Highness. But if you’d excuse me, I have actual work to do.”
I frown. “I’m not trying to be funny.”
“Really? Sometimes it’s hard to tell with you.” She gestures toward the door. “I wasn’t joking, either. I have a lot to do and I’d prefer it if you left.”
I don’t move. Instead, I make myself more comfortable in the chair, leaning back and crossing my legs.
“This is important,” I say. “We’re married now, whether you want to accept that fact or not. And I believe a husband and wife should do their best to make things work, however difficult that might seem.” I spread my hands. “You accuse me of not knowing you, Princess. Well, enlighten me. Tell me what you want me to know.”
She hesitates, then gives another shake of her head. “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, but I don’t have time for this right now.”
“It’s not a game, I assure you.”
“Everything is a game to you.”
I sigh. I can see I’m not going to get anywhere with her right now, but I’m feeling rather stubborn at the moment. Three hours in a holding cell at his new home will do that to a man.
“I propose a compromise,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Isn’t it? You refuse to see this as a marriage, which must mean this is little more than a business arrangement to you. And business arrangements require negotiations.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time—”
“It won’t take much time, I promise.” I smile. In spite of everything, I find myself enjoying our bickering—is that wrong? She just looks so enticing when she’s fighting back her annoyance.
I lean forward. “I suggest a deal. I’ll leave, but if and only if you tell me something about yourself. Something meaningful—something I couldn’t figure out on my own.” She blinks, but before she can say anything, I rush on. “Furthermore, I propose to extend this deal to other parts of our lives. If you want me to play by your rules, do as you say, then just tell me something about yourself—one fact per request—and I will honor your wishes. Trade a piece of knowledge about yourself for my obedience.”
She stares at me for a long moment, as if I’ve just spoken to her in a foreign language. But then she gives another sharp shake of her head. “I don’t think you’re capable of obedience.”
“Maybe not when other people are making the rules. But I’m the one proposing this little deal. It wouldn’t be any fun if I ignored the rules of my own game.”
“So I can just tell you anything and you’ll do whatever I say?”
“Well, not anything. You’d need to respect the spirit of the game. You can’t just make up some bullshit fact about yourself and expect me to be your obedient slave.” I thrum my fingers against the arm of my chair. “But if, for example, you wanted me to leave the room, you might tell me something about your childhood. Or give me the title of your favorite book. Or share a secret phobia.” My grin widens. “Be creative.”
“I don’t understand,” she says. “Why would you care about any of that stuff?”
I should think that would be obvious. “Because you’re my wife.”
“In name only.”
“For now.”
She rubs her forehead. “I don’t have time for this again. I really do need to get this work done.”
“Then tell me something about yourself, and I’ll go.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Her eyes are cast down at the desk in front of her, giving me the opportunity to study her a little more closely. She presses her tongue against the inside of her lower lip when she’s thinking, giving her an endearing little pout. But her eyes are focused, bright—and despite the softness of her mouth, I know her mind is sharp.
Finally, she looks back up at me.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll tell you something about myself.”
I smile again—I didn’t expect her to agree to this game.
“You promise you’ll leave?” she says.
“You have my word.”
She nods. “Okay.” Her eyes meet mine. “I can’t eat raspberries. When I was seven I had a big raspberry cake for my birthday—then got the flu that same night. Haven’t been able to eat them ever since. The couple of times I’ve tried, I’ve gotten sick to my stomach just seeing them on my plate.” She cocks her head. “Is that good enough for you?”
“More than good,” I say, rising. “I now know something about you that I didn’t before.”
“And you’ll leave?”
“I said I would.”
I head toward the door, but as I place my hand on the knob, I hear her voice behind me.
“This is a little one-sided, don’t you think?” she says.
I turn. “You tell me something, and I obey. Sounds like a perfectly fair deal to me.”
“No, I mean that I have to tell you things about me, but you haven’t told me anything about yourself.”
“I wasn’t aware you were interested, Princess.”
Her cheeks color slightly. “I’m not interested. I was just making an observation.”