Cross Me

by Geneva Lee

  His head turned, but he didn’t rise to greet me. “You took longer than I expected.”

  “You expected me to come back?” My hands wrapped around the bars dividing us. I’d purposely forgotten to get a key. The cell was the only thing keeping him safe from me.

  “You always knew you would come back. I always knew you would. You’re desperate for answers, Alexander, and I know you haven’t found any.” A delighted smile lit up his face. He was insane. He was demented.

  He was right.

  I wasn’t about to let him know that, however.

  “You must be uncomfortable here—”

  “Is that the best you can do?” He stopped me. “Remind me of how miserable I am, so that I’ll beg you for forgiveness? You must be getting desperate.”

  I was almost glad he hadn’t heard me out. I didn’t want to give this man anything, even a window.

  “We’ll skip the pleasantries then,” I said coolly. “I want names.”

  “Parliament is finally leaning on you?” he guessed. “Took them long enough to miss me. I confess I’m hurt that my colleagues weren’t more affected by my absence.”

  “None of them give a shit about you. They don’t care if you rot here forever.” My hands were beginning to throb and I realized I was throttling the bars and wishing they were his neck. I released them and massaged my ring finger where the band had dug into my skin. It was a painful reminder of why I was here.

  He rolled to the side and pushed himself up on his cot. “Someone has to take the fall. You already knew that, though, didn’t you?”

  “No one is going to fight for you,” I said. “You’re stuck here. They are out there. That doesn’t make you angry?”

  “All great causes demand sacrifice.”

  My blood ran cold. I wanted to believe he was delusional. Everything we knew about him, about his plans, ended with him. I believed others had known, aiding him or turning a blind eye, but something in the way he spoke led me to believe he was telling the truth. But if Jacobson had merely taken the fall…

  He turned his politician’s smile on me. “You’re a man of duty. I see it in your eyes. You hate this world. You hate being King. Admit it and I’ll tell you what you really want to know.”

  I paused. Was it as simple as that? All I had to do was tell the truth and he would finally give in? It was a trick. But one that couldn’t benefit him in any way. He would never leave this cell—unless it was to go to his grave. “Why do you care how I feel about my birthright?”

  “Consider it a matter of curiosity. I’ve always wondered how you live with yourself. Your father—there was a man who didn’t care about anyone—but you’ve surprised me,” he admitted. “You love your family. He didn’t. I know the secrets he kept. The lives he ruined and the ones he tried to destroy. I know why he sent you to war.”

  I said nothing. So long as Jacobson talked, I would listen. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

  “Your dirty little secret isn’t as secret as you thought,” he said with a laugh. He looked around the cell, smirking. “You probably feel pretty comfortable down here in the dungeon, don’t you? All we need is a whip. Then again, you’ve got that pretty, innocent wife for that.”

  “Don’t speak of her,” I warned him through gritted teeth.

  “That’s why they’ll break you. Everyone can see what she means to you. Your father was ruthless—cruel—but he understood the game he was playing. He gave up his Queen to save his throne.”

  “My mother died in childbirth.” Cold fury broke over me. I wanted to rip the cell door free from its hinges. Instead, I stood and stared, imagining what it would be like to crush the life from him.

  “He lost her long before she died. That was one of daddy’s secrets. I thought you might know that one.” He stood and took a few paces toward the bars separating us. I dared him to come closer, close enough that I could wrap my hands around his neck through the bars. “You know some of his secrets though, don’t you? I know them all.”

  “And how is that?” I called his bluff.

  “I’m very well connected.”

  “It’s too bad you’ll never see daylight again, then. None of those connections to turn to now.” This had been pointless. Another stupid game of cat and mouse. Now that I had caught my prize, it was no fun to play with him.

  “Oh, they don’t need me.” He snorted as though he found this intensely humorous.

  I turned, glancing over my shoulder and regarded him for a moment. “You must be lonely to make up allies that don’t exist.”

  “Made up, are they? The threats haven’t stopped, though, have they?” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head like an owl, gazing down on smaller prey. “I’ll guess something innocuous happened. Something you couldn’t pin on anyone, exactly. Everyone will tell you that it was coincidence. There will be no proof. A threat. A bomb. An accident. And a family member in the wrong place at the wrong time. Probably that delicate waif of a wife. It’s only going to keep coming. You’ll lock her away. You’ll drive her crazy. And when we’ve taken her from you in every way that seems to matter, you will lose her. You will lose everything.”

  “No one will touch her.” My voice was low, deadly. I couldn’t be sure he could hear me, but judging from the arrogance shining in his eyes, he had.

  “You can’t trust anyone, Alexander. Admit it to me. Admit how much you hate being King and I’ll tell you.”

  “Will that satisfy you? Because it’s no secret. I hate this life, but nothing you can say will take the Crown from me.”

  “No, it won’t. No matter how much you wish it would.” He turned and went back to his cot, dropping down on it. “Thank you.”

  “Never thank me.” I didn’t want even his feigned gratitude.

  “But you gave me what I wanted. Now I owe you.”

  It didn’t matter what he had to say. He wasn’t going to give me names, and I couldn’t be certain even if he did that he wasn’t lying. He was a warped, twisted man. Maybe the time in here—alone—had broken him. Maybe he’d always been evil. I didn’t care. I’d come here to look the devil in the face and as I left, I felt nothing. No remorse. No fear. Not even hatred.

  Then he spoke. “Leaving so soon? But I promised you an answer.”

  “I don’t want your answer,” I spit back at him.

  “No, you don’t. But I so want to give it,” he cooed. “By the time this ends, you’ll break her heart. Because when she finds out what you’ve been hiding, she won’t love you anymore. She’ll hate you.”

  “Is that all you have?” I laughed, my back still turned to him. “You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know her.”

  “When she stops loving you, that will be what breaks you and takes your Crown. But what comes before will be sweet revenge. Your family is nothing but smoke and lies. Secrets kept by you. Secrets kept from you. Those secrets will poison you from the inside out until everyone you’ve loved, why, you’ll hate them as much as they’ll hate you. You wanted to know our plans. I’ll tell you, because you can’t stop us.” His voice dropped to nothing more than a whisper, but it echoed in the barren space. “How do you destroy the royal family, Alexander? From within.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CLARA

  Alexander grew more distant as my departure for Silverstone neared. I needed to be there to prepare for the opening ceremonies and initial events, which would take place in a week. The rest of the games would run through May.

  We’d each been focused on our own agendas for the last few weeks. Alexander had a country to run and I had events to organize. But it wasn’t just a full schedule. He’d begun to withdraw from me, particularly in the last week. I couldn’t blame him exactly. I’d hoped he would join us when the games officially began, but until then, I would be in Silverstone with Elizabeth, who was too young to be away from me for that long. It was just over a week, but X and I rarely spent so long apart. The last time was before we
were engaged. Still, there was no way he could come with me, and there was no way that I could stay here. We were at an impasse. But when I caught him staring, darkness shadowing his eyes, I wondered if he planned to stop me from going. I half-expected it at this point, but the demand never came.

  “This one will do it,” Belle said as she flourished a loose, cashmere sweater. I took it from her and held it up, studying how the fabric draped in the mirror.

  I screwed up my nose. This was impossible. Everything I considered felt plain and uninspiring. Belle, on the other hand, seemed to be transitioning into her pregnancy elegantly. She’d shown up in a loose, linen tunic and leggings that were classy and comfortable. I didn’t have anything half as stylish that still fit me. “I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle.”

  “Maybe you should just make the announcement,” she suggested. “Even I told my mother.”

  I tossed the sweater on the bed and whirled around to her. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “What’s there to tell?” She shrugged. “She’s not thrilled at the thought of being a grandmother. Aunt Jane is over the moon, though. Baby Price will have one sane relative.”

  She rubbed a circle over her belly lovingly, and I smiled. Belle looked curvier these days, but not pregnant yet. Her cheeks were fuller, her eyes brighter. She was actually glowing.

  “What about Smith’s family?”

  Belle shook her head, gloominess descending over her instantly. “He doesn’t have anyone. Georgia is the closest person he has to family.”

  I bit back unkind words. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have Georgia as my only family. No wonder Smith was so inscrutable.

  “I know, right?” Belle said as if she was reading my mind. “She’s not so bad once you figure out whether or not she wants to kill you.”

  I goggled at her. It sounded like there was a story there, but she didn’t share.

  “Plus, once you share,” she said, switching topics, “I can hook you up with killer maternity clothes.”

  “I didn’t think Bless offered anything like that.” I’d had an unofficial subscription to Bless, Belle’s fashion start-up, since day one. It was a perk of being the CEO’s best friend and her business partner’s sister. I hadn’t bothered taking out any items in weeks, though, thanks to my ever-larger bump.

  “We’re expanding.” She patted her stomach and added, “in more ways than one. We’re about to launch Blessings, a maternity subscription service.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “I figured that pregnancy is one time in a woman’s life where she constantly needs new clothes to wear, because”—she pantomimed a big, round belly—“she deserves to feel fabulous.”

  “I will happily be your test subject,” I promised. “But for now, we’re stuck hiding this little prince or princess under a coat. I just want to wait until after the first rounds of the games are over,” I told her. “I don’t want my pregnancy announcement to overshadow the events. Let them all bet on the races.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Edward’s curly head poked inside the room. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I asked him.

  “Yeah,” Belle said, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. “I thought you were a newlywed.”

  “Not all of us shag like rabbits,” he said dryly. “David and I have known each other for years. We aren’t quite the slaves to our hormones some of you are.”

  “That’s sad.” Belle and I exchanged a glance.

  “Don’t do that.” He shook his head, wagging a finger at us. “There’s nothing wrong with my marriage. I’ll have you know we shagged twice this morning.”

  “That’s better,” she said with a satisfied smile.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t have me come help you pack,” he whined. He picked up the sweater I’d abandoned and looked me over. “What are we going for? Cold weather chic? Down to earth, mom-to-be?”

  “We’re going for hide the bump at all costs.” I plucked the sweater from his hands.

  “Really?” He scratched his cheek as he digested this. “I thought…”

  “She doesn’t want to tell anyone yet, so thank God for coats,” Belle said.

  “There are more important things than my wardrobe,” I reminded them. Both stopped to stare at me and I groaned in frustration.

  “My job is to dress women so they feel fabulous,” Belle said. “Furthermore, it’s my duty as your best friend. What will people think of me? Of my company?”

  “And since I came out of the closet, there are certain stereotypical expectations I have to uphold,” Edward teased.

  “I get it. Wardrobe is important.” I threw my hands in the air. These two would be the death of me. “Buy me some time, okay? Let’s keep the betting on the games for now instead of a due date.”

  “About that…” Edward blew air through his lips.

  He had something to tell me, but I couldn’t fathom what. We didn’t keep secrets from each other. What did he need to confess?

  “Out with it,” I said, dumping a pile of socks into my suitcase. At least I wasn’t expected to wear stockings and heels on a race track every day.

  “Would it be so bad if people found out?” he asked.

  I snorted. He didn’t have a clue. Yeah, he’d been photographed every moment of his life, but it was hard to explain what it was like to have people dissecting your reproductive status. “You sound like X. He doesn’t understand why I still want to keep it a secret.”

  Edward opened his mouth, his eyes drooping with a guilty weight, but Belle interrupted him. “Why do you want to keep it a secret? Really? Announcing it would only boost attention to the Games.”

  “I don’t want everyone to worry about my pregnancy when they should be thinking about more important things. The status of my womb shouldn’t undermine charity.”

  “Is that really the only reason?” Edward pressed.

  I stopped and considered it. If there were any two people I could be truthful with about how mixed up I was feeling, it was my best friends. But I hadn’t shared how complicated it felt, even with Alexander. It felt wrong somehow to admit that I was more apprehensive than excited. “First of all, I love this baby. I want that to be clear. I will do anything for my little majesty.”

  “Awww! That’s adorable,” Edward said, “but it sounds a little ominous.”

  “Once people know, I feel like they’ll just look at me like some gestational machine. I mean, Elizabeth hasn’t even turned two yet. I can’t even believe I’m knocked up again!” I confessed.

  “She’s nearly two,” Belle pointed out. If that was the best argument she had, I was in trouble.

  “It’s weird, okay? Having people obsess over when you’re going to have a baby. People guessing what you’re going to name him or her. Crowds waiting outside the hospital for you to drag yourself out of bed and pretend that you’re not in massive pain so you can smile for a picture. I mean, can you imagine if every news source in the world was keeping track on the inner workings of your womb?” I asked her.

  “I have a Clara pregnancy tracker app,” she whispered.

  “You have a what?” Edward and I asked at the same time.

  “It tracks my pregnancy in comparison to yours and gives me tips on how the Queen handled pregnancy concerns. There’s pictures of you throughout your pregnancy with Elizabeth as illustrations. I got it on the App Store,” she admitted weakly, rocking on her heels. “I thought it was funny.”

  “Oh my god.” I couldn’t even comprehend such a thing existed.

  “I thought it was kind of sweet, too,” she added quickly.

  “Maybe for my best friend.” I buried my face in my hands. My life was too weird.

  “But you’re right, I wouldn’t like that,” Belle said. “I think it would drive me crazy.”

  “And they’ll be looking for any signs that something’s wrong,” I continued. I was on a
roll now. I’d tried to ignore all these little things, but they were adding up and wearing me down. “If I wear the wrong thing, they’ll say I’ve gained too much weight. If I go out with makeup, they’ll say that I’m trying to hide how sick I am. And God forbid I’m seen without Alexander, then there’s trouble in our marriage.”

  “Is there trouble in your marriage?” Edward asked softly.

  I opened a drawer and rummaged through it, unsure how to answer. Was there? I didn’t think so. I was as committed to Alexander as ever. I loved him and nothing would change that. But things weren’t exactly smooth sailing.

  “Clara, you can talk to us,” Belle interrupted my thoughts.

  “I’m fine!” I slid the drawer shut so quickly the picture frame on top of the bureau toppled over. Picking it up, I looked into Alexander’s eyes. It was a photo from the night he’d proposed. Someone—my mother, I think—had given me the frame as a bridal shower present. I’d planned to replace the photo with one from my wedding. But that day had gone horribly wrong, and what pictures existed were a sobering reminder of why there was a strain on Alexander’s and my relationship. We didn’t have normal lives. It was silly to pretend otherwise.

  “We’re fine,” I said. “I mean, it was never going to be easy, right?”

  “Have you ever thought maybe it should be?” Belle asked. “At least a little?”

  “So, your marriage is perfect?” I snapped. The truth was I didn’t know that much about her marriage. Only what she shared with me. I didn’t spend time with her husband. We didn’t double date or go out to dinner. And unlike hers, my marriage was the subject of scrutiny. My best friends not only knew what I told them, but they also had an unlimited newsfeed of stories analyzing my life. There was no telling what my best friends had read. I wanted to think they wouldn’t believe any of it, but now, as they sat here watching me carefully, I realized they might.