by Ember Casey
There’s a knock at the door. “We’re going to be late.”
Can’t keep good King Maximilian waiting, I think wryly. I consider telling Justine that if she wants me to hurry, she’s going to have to answer a couple of questions, but I talk myself out of it. If I want answers—real answers—about this mysterious man in her poetry, then I’m going to have to be subtle about it.
And I definitely want answers.
When I leave the closet, Justine has just finished braiding her hair. She gives me a quick, assessing look up and down, and apparently deciding I’m dressed well enough for breakfast, walks toward the door without another word.
She doesn’t have to speak, though, for me to sense the nerves about her. As we head down the corridor, she starts absently biting on her thumbnail—for a moment, anyway, until she seems to realize what she’s doing and jerks her hand away from her mouth. A few minutes later, she begins twisting the end of her braid between her fingers.
She anxious, I think, watching her out of the corner of my eye. And for once, I don’t think I’m the cause of her agitation. She’s worried about facing her parents after last night. I’d stake my title on it.
We pass the corridor I noticed last night, the one with the guarded door at the end of it. I peer down the hallway, and sure enough, there are still members of the Royal Guard on either side of it.
“What’s down there?” I ask Justine.
“Hm?” She jerks slightly—I’ve clearly startled her out of her thoughts. “Down where?”
“Down that hallway,” I say, jerking my thumb in that direction. “Behind that mysteriously guarded door.”
She gives a shake of her head. “Nothing that interesting, I promise you.”
“But what is it?”
“If you want to know, you’ll have to take it up with my father.”
God, doesn’t anyone around here know how to answer questions straight?
“Maybe I will,” I say flippantly after a moment. “Do you think he’ll mind me asking?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a servant comes around the corner. He bows to us.
“Your Highnesses,” he says. “I was sent to tell you that breakfast was canceled. The kitchens would be happy to send something to your suite.”
“Canceled?” Justine frowns. “Why?”
“I wasn’t told, Your Highness,” the man says. “I was only asked to relay the message.”
“Thank you,” Justine says, but she still looks worried.
As the man heads back down the corridor, I turn to her. “Do you think it’s because of what happened last night? I can take breakfast in private, if your family would prefer.” I definitely don’t mind limiting my time with those assholes.
But Justine shakes her head. “Neither of my parents is afraid of confrontation. In fact, I think they’ll be looking for opportunities to make your life miserable. No, it has to be something else.”
“Like what?”
“How am I supposed to know?” She looks down the corridor toward the dining room, almost as if she intends to march down there and demand answers. She looks deeply concerned, but I can’t imagine why—my father cancels or skips family meals all the time, for all sorts of reasons. This is just breakfast, after all.
“Princess?” I say. “Is something wrong?”
Suddenly, she straightens, giving a decisive shake of her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just go back to the suite. I’ll go to the kitchen and order us something to eat.”
She doesn’t wait for my response, or even ask me if I remember the way back to the room. Instead, she marches off without another word.
This whole family is insane.
There’s definitely something going on here—something no one is telling me. Who knew my new wife would have so many secrets?
As I wander back toward the suite, I pause at the head of the hallway with the guarded door. Maybe this is my chance to learn what’s inside. I make it about ten steps down the corridor before one of the guards straightens.
“You there,” he says. “You’re not allowed down here.”
I straighten. “No? Princess Justine said I might go wherever I wished. Since I’m new to the family, I thought I’d take a walk, get the lay of the land.”
He doesn’t take kindly to my humor. “You’re not allowed down here.”
“By whose orders?”
“His Royal Majesty’s, of course,” says the other guard, shaking his head as if I’m an idiot. “If you have any concerns, take it up with him.”
“Can you at least tell me why it is that I’m not allowed to enter? Are these some private quarters or—”
“If you have any concerns, take it up with His Majesty,” the guard says again.
Well, I can see I’m not going to get anywhere with these two.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I say with a nod. “Have a good day.”
I turn back and head toward the suite. That didn’t accomplish anything except to make me even more curious.
Too many mysteries and not nearly enough answers, I think.
But there’s one mystery, at least, that I intend to solve sooner rather than later—that of Justine’s mystery man. And since she’s off ordering breakfast, that gives me another chance to read her poetry, She only had a few minutes to hide it again—no doubt I’ll be able to find it quickly.
And I don’t intend to waste a minute dawdling. With a grin, I take off for the suite at a run.
Justine
I stop at the kitchen and order our breakfast before I make my way to the east wing. I’m not certain why I think I’ll get any answers today—it isn’t as though I’ve received any before when I’ve asked for them. But I walk the distance to Reginald’s quarters regardless, determined to get him to say something to me.
I’m not even to his door when I hear…giggling. My brother took up with a Montovian noblewoman a month ago, though it would surprise me if it was she who was behind the door as I don’t believe my parents have met with her to give their formal approval to the relationship. Nor can I imagine they ever will. I’m certain it was distasteful enough for them to approve of my marriage—I’m fairly sure my mother had nothing to do with it—so I can’t imagine they’ll approve of my brother’s newly acquired taste for…how does my mother put it? Montovian filth?
The giggling stops when I knock, and I hear some scurrying about before my brother finally opens the door.
He looks me up and down for a moment. “What?”
“What’s happened?” I look him over as well. Judging by the hastily thrown on shirt and unbuttoned pants, I’d guess my brother might have been unclothed with his suitor.
He sighs. “Whatever do you mean, Sister?”
“I mean, breakfast was canceled. They—”
“I’m certain you can order something for you and your love to eat from the kitchens. It isn’t as though—”
“We both know what it means when a meal is canceled, Brother. If you would just—”
He gives me a condescending smile. “Why don’t you not worry your pretty head about it, Justine? Go back to your love and get started…” He gives me another once over, sneering. “Get started on your four male heirs.”
“Is that what you’re doing in there with Clarissa?” I force a smile. “Or did you find a new unfortunate soul to—?”
“I’ll thank you to leave a man’s private business private. It’s none of your concern. Nor could you understand even if I were to explain it to you.”
“Because I’m so stupid.” I give him a knowing nod.
“Because you’re a woman.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “If you could just confirm that breakfast was canceled because of the reason I think it was—”
“I’ll confirm nothing for you, Sister. Now run along.” He makes a shooing motion with his hand. “I have my own business to attend to.” He doesn’t say another word before he slams the door in my face.
I turn an
d begin marching back to my suite.
I’m not sure when I first realized that Rosvalia’s treatment of women wasn’t right, but I know I was fairly young. It never seemed fair that girls were excluded from so many things—sports in particular. I know Montovia has some of its own issues with the rights of women, but they have slowly been changing them over the past half-century or so. Rosvalia has not. To deny a woman the same rights as a man merely because she lacks an extra appendage between her legs has always seemed idiotic to me.
A server is leaving my suite when I return. William is sitting on the sofa again in almost the exact same spot as he was this morning. He has a roll in one hand and another of my journals in his other.
He gives me a small nod when I enter, but barely glances up at me.
“Why?” I stand in front of him, placing my hands on my hips. “What is the fascination, Your Highness?”
He shrugs before he looks up at me. “That’s two questions.”
“So?” I stare at him for a moment. “Are you going to answer them?”
“I will, but then you’ll have to do something for me.” He grins as he takes another bite of his roll.
“I’m not…” I shake my head. “I told you already this morning. I’m not playing your games any longer.”
He shrugs again. “Suit yourself, Princess.”
I can’t help but glare at him. “What is it you want from me? I—”
“I want to know who this man is.” He motions with his head toward the book. “The man who broke your heart.”
“It’s none of your business, Your Highness.” I glare at him again. “Now, if you would please just leave my personal property alone—”
“Ah, but it isn’t your personal property any longer, is it Princess? Doesn’t Rosvalia have some pretty archaic rules about the property rights of women?” He lifts a brow, but I could swear this is another of his stupid jokes. “What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine? Isn’t it something like that?”
My gaze narrows even further. “You are not going to pull that on me, Your Highness. I’ll have you thrown so hard out of Rosvalia you won’t even need a train to get back to your precious country—”
“Are you threatening me, Princess?” He grins. “Because I could swear you’re threatening me.”
“Get out of my suite—”
“I believe you mean my suite.” His grin widens and he stands, placing the journal in my hand. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Princess. But keep hiding them and I will keep finding them. It isn’t as though I have much else to do in this godforsaken palace.” His smile falls. “What is it I’m supposed to do with my days, anyway?”
“I don’t care.”
“Don’t you?” I wait for his grin to arrive, but it doesn’t.
“No, I do not.” I slip the journal under my arm and hold out my hand. “The others.”
“The other what?”
“Books. My other books. Please. They’re…private. If I’d wanted people reading them, I would have—”
“I suppose you should have thought of that before you had your husband move into your suite.” His smile is still gone, so I’m uncertain if he means this all to be a joke or if he’s serious.
“If I’d been back to my suite since you announced our arranged marriage, I suppose I would have.” I glare at him. “Where are they?”
He clucks his tongue. “So many questions, Princess. You’re going to be doing my bidding for the rest of your life if I should decide to start answering you.”
I’ll never admit the small thrill I feel at thinking about what he might have me do while doing his bidding. I will never, ever admit that I feel even the smallest amount of attraction to this man. Or that there’s something about hating him that makes me want him all the more.
“I’ll never be doing your bidding or the bidding of anyone else, Your Highness.” I glare at him for another moment. “Now, if you’ll kindly return the rest of my books—”
“Who is he?”
The sound that comes from me is nearly a growl. “It isn’t important. If you’ll just return my books—”
“Tell me his name and I’ll return your books.”
“No.”
“No?” His brows draw together again. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Princess. I only want to know his name—”
“And then you’ll steal my journals again and ask me other questions to get them returned. Your stupid game will never end. What is it you really want to know, Your Highness? Do you want to know how the length of his cock compares with your own?”
His gaze narrows for a split second. “No. I merely want to know his name.”
“I’m not telling you anything. I’ve already told you it’s fiction—”
“A lie if I’ve ever heard one.” There is no emotion on his face at all. “I’m a man of my word, Princess. State his name and you may have your precious journals.”
“I’m not telling you anything, ever. The sooner you get that through your thick skull—”
“No name, no books.” A small smile plays on his lips. “What do you say, Princess?”
“I say you can go to hell.”
His smile widens to a grin. “Fine. Then I’ll begin reading your journal aloud. This is where your poetry comes from, is it not?” He turns and pulls one of my journals from between the cushions of the couch. “He can touch me anywhere and I feel it throughout my body.”
My cheeks burn. My heart is racing and my head is pounding in time. It’s a strange combination—rage and embarrassment. I hold out my hand. “Give it to me. I’ve asked you nicely—”
He lifts a brow as he interrupts. “It’s both fire and ice. Sweet and—”
“Your Highness—”
“You can call me William, you know.” His brows draw together. “Are we really to do this for the rest of our lives? Are we really to battle each other like this forever?”
“No, Your Highness. We aren’t to do this forever. Only for the next ninety-seven days. Now give me my journal—”
His brows draw together and his mouth falls slightly open as he hands the second book to me. “Did you just say…ninety-seven days?”
My eyes widen as I realize what I’ve done. What I’ve said.
“What does that mean, Princess?”
I take the book from him, tucking it under my. “It doesn’t mean anything—”
“It does mean something. It does.” He glares at me, but it isn’t anger in his eyes. It’s pain. “What is it you’re planning to do in ninety-seven days?”
Royal Arrangement
Royal Arrangement unfolds over the course of six novels. Each follows the continuing story of Prince William of Montovia and Princes Justine of Rosvalia. Royal Arrangement is the third of the Royal Heartbreakers Series.
Royal Heartbreaker (Leopold) is available here.
Royal Mistake (Andrew) is available here.
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