Royal Arrangement

by Ember Casey

  Control yourself, I think. And focus. I need to prepare myself for the meal ahead. Tonight will be a test—I’ll learn exactly where I fit into this family and what is expected of me. And it will be my first real chance to ascertain whether this family has something to hide. I don’t intend to waste it, and I definitely don’t intend to let myself get distracted by my new wife, intriguing though she is.

  When I accepted my part in this arrangement, I did it because I thought this union would bring peace to our two countries. But if King Maximilian and the rest of the Rosvalian royal family haven’t acted in good faith, then I intend to adapt. Whatever they’re hiding, I will find it.

  I’m here to serve a purpose to Montovia, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.

  Justine

  I can’t believe he read my work. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it—not at all. I’m quite proud of what I’ve accomplished, but I’d never intended to allow William to see into the depths of my soul as he has.

  He probably doesn’t even realize he has… It makes me feel slightly better, knowing he probably doesn’t understand most of what I’ve written. I bared my soul in those poems—I suppose it was why they resonated so much with the judges of the poetry contest I won. And I suppose if William understood what any of them meant, he probably wouldn’t be able to help himself but to make a joke of it.

  It’s going to be all right, I think as I pull on a formal evening dress. I have the book hidden somewhere he’ll never find it, and even if he does…it isn’t as though he’s going to understand it.

  I barely put any effort into my hair or makeup before I return to the sitting room. I’m certain my father will be beside himself that I’m not made up like a lady, but I hardly care. He’s taken away enough from me already. It isn’t as though I’m going to pretend I care any longer. I’ve already given up too much for him and this country. No one is going to die if I don’t apply rouge to my cheeks tonight.

  My return to the sitting area only takes me a few minutes longer than it took William.

  He jumps to his feet when I enter the room. “Wow, I thought I was fast, Princess.” He grins—it’s the same stupid smile he seems to always have on his face. The one I don’t want to admit sends a little shiver through me. “You look lovely.”

  My gaze narrows involuntarily. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” His brows draw together, though his smile barely falls.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Do what?” If I didn’t know better, I would say he seemed genuinely confused.

  “Say things like that. Not…not when you don’t mean them.”

  “But I do—”

  “You can save the pretending for tonight. My family obviously knows about the arrangement, but most of them think we at least have feelings for each other.”

  “Are you saying you don’t have feelings for me?” His grin widens ever so slightly.

  “I’m saying we’re going to be late for dinner. And as I’m sure you can imagine, my father hates it when anyone in the family is late.”

  “Very well, Princess.” He motions toward the door. “Lead the way.”

  I can hear a tiny bite of sarcasm in his voice, but I choose to ignore it. “You’ll learn your way around soon enough, Your Highness.”

  He holds the door open for me as we exit our suite. “I’ve no doubt, Princess. The question isn’t whether or not I’ll learn my way around, it’s whether or not I’ll be allowed to learn my way around.”

  We begin to make our way down the corridor toward the dining halls. “I’m certain you’ll figure it out, Your Highness.”

  “Ah, but figuring what out will be the challenge.”

  We walk in silence for the rest of the distance to the small formal dining room my family uses when everyone in the immediate family is available for dinner.

  Unfortunately, we’re the first to arrive. I’d hoped that by being only a few minutes early, someone might have beaten us here.

  “Are we to dine alone?” William turns to me with his signature grin. “I’m certain I could get used to that.”

  I try not to roll my eyes as I motion for him to take the seat next to mine. If nothing else, I believe the traditional dining customs are the same in both of our countries. I’ve eaten with William’s family on two occasions—both during Andrew’s charade, of course. But it was almost exactly the same as eating with my family in Rosvalia. Well, aside from my family’s behavior, at any rate.

  He pulls my hand into his as soon as we’re seated.

  “What are you doing?” I feel my brows draw together—the man despises me. I can’t imagine the reason he might be trying to do something intimate unless he’s trying to humiliate me again.

  “I’m holding my wife’s hand.” He’s not smiling now. I could swear he’s uncomfortable, and perhaps he is.

  I try to pull my hand away, but his grip only tightens. “Your Highness, I’m asking you to release my hand.”

  He turns to me, and unlike before, there’s no sign of humor in his eyes or on his lips. “Then you know the rule.”

  “I…” I try once more to pull my hand from his, but he won’t let it go. I lower my voice, sure someone from my family must be just outside the door. “I’m not doing this… Not here.”

  “Then you’ll be holding my hand through our meal.” At least that line was delivered with a trace of his usual good humor, though not with much.

  “Your Highness…” I’m sure he can hear the exasperation in my voice. “This isn’t the time or place.”

  “To hold the hand of my wife?” He turns to face me again, finally a small smile playing on his lips. “Can you enlighten me then?”

  “Enlighten you?”

  “Yes. As to when a good time would be.”

  “A good time for what?” My mother sashays into the room, a goblet of some alcoholic beverage in her hand.” She drains the glass and sets it down as she takes her seat. She looks over at William with a frown. “It’s nice to see you again, Prince William.”

  “You as well, Your Majesty.” He gives her a polite smile and nod. “We didn’t have much of a chance to speak after the engagement was announced.”

  She looks at him for a long moment, blinking at him with confusion. “Why would we speak?”

  William flinches as though he’s been slapped, tightening his grip on my hand.

  It’s not as though I can’t commiserate with what he must be feeling from the pointed end of my mother’s sharp tongue. If he knew me at all, he’d know I’m the one in my family who generally takes the brunt of her barbs.

  “I think my husband was trying to make polite conversation, Mother.” I try to smooth the situation, much as I’ve always done in our family. “I don’t believe he meant any disrespect—”

  “Well, he is from Montovia, so I sincerely doubt that.” My mother motions to one of the attendants flitting about, getting things ready to serve dinner. She points at her glass—and everyone in the palace knows what she wants when she does that.

  William’s grip on my hand almost becomes painful at her words.

  I should have warned him, I think. Though, if he’d thought to ask—or to pay attention, for that matter—he might have already known that it is not my father who is the nightmare of Rosvalia. It is most definitely my mother.

  “William, did you know that I won my first poetry competition when I was only eight years old?” I think he might be cutting off the circulation to my hand, his grip is so tight, so I can only hope that he knows what I want him to do with my latest revelation.

  He turns to me, his brows knitting together for a moment, before he finally drops my hand. A slight smile forms on his lips again. “Is that so, Princess?”

  I return the smile, nodding. “Yes.”

  “Yes, yes, my daughter the poet. As though the world cares.” My mother rolls her eyes and takes a long sip from her new drink. “Clearly, they don’t care about you, Justine. Did you see where you
r wedding merited a story in that tabloid? The one where that woman works? The one the heir of Montovia took up with when he decided he didn’t want you?”

  My cheeks burn. “I couldn’t say, Mother. I’ve been a little busy—”

  “The twelfth page, Justine. Twelfth. It didn’t even merit a headline. It’s the most important day of your life, and the message to the world is, it was not a big deal. Do people not realize that you are an heir as well?”

  “Not if the laws aren’t changed, I’m not.” I turn to William, a forced smile on my lips. “Our laws are still a little antiquated when it comes to the rites of succession. Women are not allowed to claim their title as heir unless they produce at least four sons before the current monarch dies.”

  My mother speaks again, and it’s clear by her slurred speech the alcohol is beginning to get to her. “You’re not out of the running yet, Justine. Your sad little Montovian prince just needs to make sure you have four sons. So you might want to get started tonight, if you haven’t already.”

  William

  I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open.

  Four sons? Before she’s allowed to inherit? Yes, I’d always assumed that Justine and I would eventually have children, but not that many. And not so soon.

  I’m not sure how to respond to this new bit of information, but fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how I look at it—before I can respond, Prince Reginald and King Maximilian arrive for dinner.

  Reginald smirks at me as he takes his seat across the table. King Maximilian ignores me completely as he goes to his chair at the head of the table.

  The arrival of the king seems to be a silent cue for the staff. Within moments, food is being laid before us. Plates and plates of it—roast goose, gravy, a variety of vegetables, delicate rolls, and a couple of foods I don’t even recognize. The dishes are served in silence, and that silence lingers even after the servers have gone.

  I place my napkin in my lap and glance around the table, wondering if I should try to break the awkward silence hanging over the table.

  Nope. Not walking into that trap.

  And it is, a trap, I’m sure of it. Reginald’s eyes are still on me, that infuriating smirk still on his lips. I try to ignore it as I pick up my wine glass. At least this family had the grace to provide me with alcohol.

  It’s the queen that eventually speaks first. “I was just reminding our daughter and her new husband that they’d better start producing heirs if they want her to inherit.” From the look in her gray eyes, I suspect she knows exactly what she’s doing—she’s trying to make us uncomfortable. Like this is some sort of amusing game.

  Justine’s eyes are on her plate, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t released her hand so soon. I reach for it again under the table, but she moves her fingers away.

  When I glance back up, King Maximilian is watching me. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged me in any way since he walked into the room.

  “Yes,” he says simply, his eyes hard. “They should get started.”

  There’s some sort of threat in his words, I know, but I’m not sure what. My gaze drifts across the table to Reginald. I’d have thought he’d be amused by my discomfort, but instead, he’s frowning.

  Because if Justine doesn’t inherit the throne, then he does, I realize. He doesn’t want his sister to start popping out heirs.

  This is interesting. And it might be the only thing I have over Reginald. When I agreed to this marriage to Justine, there was little time to think about my eventual role in Rosvalia. I knew the inheritance laws were complicated here, but I was under the impression that Reginald was the heir—not that my wife might one day be ruling this country. Of course, I’d only still only be the prince consort, not a king, but that’s still a lot more influence than I initially anticipated.

  It also explains why Reginald is doing his best to make me feel unwelcome here.

  I glance back at the king, who’s watching me expectantly. I realize he’s waiting for a response from me.

  I clear my throat. “Justine and I will do everything in our power to fulfill your expectations.”

  There’s a flicker of something in Maximilian’s eyes, but it’s gone before I can interpret it.

  “Maybe you’ll surprise us all,” he says, his hard gaze never leaving mine. “I rather expect you won’t, though.”

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? I look over at Justine, who’s still staring intently at her plate. She’s gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles are white.

  And I thought my family had issues.

  I take another sip of my wine and think. Back home, I’d crack a joke to diffuse a tense situation like this, but I’m pretty sure that’s not going to work here. So I try another tactic.

  “I was wondering,” I say lightly, “if someone here might enlighten me about the house rules.”

  The king frowns. But it’s the queen who speaks.

  “Whatever are you talking about?” she says. “Didn’t they teach you proper behavior back in Montovia?” She releases an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you uncivilized savages don’t know how to conduct yourselves within palace walls.”

  “I was merely seeking clarification,” I say, still trying to keep my voice light. It’s hard. “Since I was unaware I’d be restricted from certain parts of my new home. If someone could just tell me directly where I am and am not allowed to go, it would make things a lot easier.”

  “Prince William believes he should have free reign of our palace,” Reginald says. His smirk is back, which doesn’t reassure me about the direction this conversation is heading.

  “Why ever would you expect to have free reign of this palace?” the queen demands of me.

  I shrug. “Because this is my home now. When someone joins my family, we don’t restrict where they can and can’t go in Montovia’s palace.”

  “Savages,” the queen mutters, loud enough for all of us to hear. To her husband, she says, “I told you it was a terrible idea to wed Justine to one of them. They’re going to muddy the bloodline.”

  King Maximilian’s face is impassable. He turns to me. “I don’t care how things are done in Montovia. In this palace, I make the rules. You’ll be restricted to the common areas of the main floor and to the western wing.”

  For the first time, Justine speaks up. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Surely he should be able to access the southern wing, too. And the main floor of the eastern—”

  “I make the rules here,” Maximilian snaps, his eyes flaring. “Not you, Daughter. And unless and until you have four male heirs, you’d be wise to remember your place.”

  Justine falls silent. And even though I should know better than to interfere, I can’t fight the anger that flares up in my chest.

  “And you call us uncivilized,” I say. “My father’s strict, but at least he’d never speak to one of his children like that.”

  The queen’s fork clatters to her plate, apparently in shock. Even Reginald’s eyes have gone wide.

  “William,” Justine says in a hushed voice, “just let it go. My father—”

  “I’m not surprised to hear your father fails to exercise his authority with his own children,” Maximilian says. “It explains a lot about the behavior of you and your siblings. If he’d kept you on a proper leash—”

  “I didn’t mean to start anything,” I say, throwing up my hands in surrender and trying to sound casual. “Just making conversation.”

  “Such conversation is not fit for this table,” the queen says, folding her hands in front of her. “In fact, I think you should leave.”

  Well, so much for diffusing the tension. I glance from the king to the queen and back again, wondering if I might talk my way out of this, but the chances are looking very slim.

  “Very well,” I say, rising. “I’ll return to the suite. Perhaps Justine should come with me to make sure I don’t accidentally wander somewhere I shouldn’t.”

&n
bsp; The king’s eyebrows twitch, and I suspect I’m just making things worse—but damn it, I can’t help myself. This entire family is insane.

  “Justine is a member of this family, and she will finish her meal here. As for you—”

  “Are you sure you don’t want her to come with me?” I say, putting on a grin. “We can get started on those heirs.”

  Justine stands up. “Father, I do think I should escort him back to the suite.”

  “For God’s sake, just let them go,” the queen says in an exasperated voice. “I’d just like to eat in peace.”

  The king doesn’t say anything, but after a moment, he gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. Justine grabs my arm and practically drags me toward the door.

  “Pleasant evening!” I call to the rest of the family as I’m pulled out of the room.

  The moment we’re around the corner, Justine spins on me. “What the hell was that about?”

  “Forgive me for voicing the obvious, Princess, but your father is kind of a dick.”

  “I’m not talking about my father. I’m talking about you.” She turns away from me, rubbing her forehead. “This is hard enough without you purposefully making things difficult.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Just sit there and listen to your entire family insult you?”

  “I don’t need you to defend me.”

  “Fine—listen to them insult me, then. I know there’s no love lost between our countries, but good God, your mother—”

  “Trust me, it’s easier if you just ignore them.” She turns back to me. “I mean it, Your Highness—you’re not helping by purposefully egging them on and trying to piss them off. You’re just going to make things a whole lot worse for both of us.”

  I hesitate. “Justine, your parents shouldn’t treat you like—”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she says, grabbing my arm again. “Let’s just go back to the suite.”

  “Is it always that bad?”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”