Jenny, my older sister, happened to be in the kitchen preparing breakfast. “Where do you think you’re going? Why so spiffy?”
“Where did you put Grandma’s old ring?”
Jenny shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t remember.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “You don’t remember?”
“Yeah, I probably stuffed it somewhere.”
Sometimes I wondered how we were related. I was the kind of person who needed everything to be organized. Everything had its place, its purpose. Jenny, on the other hand, was a free spirit. And by free spirit, I meant she was lazy and the messiest person alive. Whenever I was out on tour, I was sometimes worried Jenny would leave Ava at school by accident. That was just how forgetful my sister could be.
“Why do you need it? You’re not going to pawn it off, are you?”
I frowned. “Why would I pawn it off? I make plenty.”
Jenny shrugged again. It was ridiculous how such a tiny gesture could draw out so much of my frustrations. “You can go ahead and try downstairs. Probably near all the boxes of videotapes we have. Maybe. I’m not a betting woman.”
“Mhmm, okay. Thanks,” I said flatly.
The basement was an incredibly cramped space. I could barely stretch my arms out without hitting the walls. When I stood up completely straight, my head touched the ceiling. All things considered, Jenny was lucky to have inherited a house as large as this one in the city center. Had it not been for our grandmother passing the property down through her will, Jenny and I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go. Owning my own place was out of the question. I was away for so long that it just didn’t make sense to rent or pay a mortgage. When I did return, I always made sure to pay my sister a generous rent for the attic room I stayed in.
I searched about fruitlessly for a good couple of minutes, trying to navigate in the dark. The little lightbulb dangling above my head had long since burnt out. I kept telling Jenny to change it, afraid that Ava wouldn’t see a step and trip all the way down, but my sister—in good old Jenny fashion—hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Besides, I was good at moving about in tight spaces with limited lighting. It was just like the narrow halls of the warships I served on. I got really good and feeling my way around, making out the outlines of objects so that I wouldn’t accidently bump into them.
I located the stack of cardboard boxes in the far corner of the basement, the ones with all the aforementioned videotapes. These little cassettes were ancient and dusty, but Jenny still hadn’t gotten around to getting the film digitized. Because, you know, of course. Luckily, I found the little ring box without too much difficulty—weird, considering the mess. It was almost like it found me, sitting out on a cramped shelf as if to say, I’m here! Pick me!
Bounding up the stairs with the ring box in hand, I finally opened it up beneath the kitchen lights to inspect the diamond ring inside.
Jenny whistled. “Who’s the lucky girl you haven’t talked about?”
I had half a mind to tell Jenny the whole truth. I fell in love with the Princess of Idolia, and I woke up this morning realizing that I didn’t want to live without her. A plan was formulating in my head. If I didn’t take action now, I probably never would. I was going to hop in my car, drive up to the palace, and demand to see Giselle so that I could propose. If the guards wouldn’t let me in, I’d sneak in around back. If I was caught, I’d just try again and again until I was finally allowed to see her. The burning question was hot and heavy on my tongue. I needed to ask her, to get everything off of my chest. The rest was on her.
I glanced down at the diamond ring. It was a hefty little thing. It used to belong to my grandmother, and her mother before that. It wasn’t worth very much. The diamond was crude, and the gold band was in desperate need of polishing. I was almost a little embarrassed to give it to Giselle. She deserved something brighter, larger, and more spectacular. But this was supposed to be symbolic of my love for her, not some statement that I was financially well off. I was just going to walk up to her and tell her the truth about how I felt and lay everything on the table. I was tired of keeping everything in, like a kettle near boiling over.
“Can I borrow your car?” I asked Jenny.
She snorted. “Fine, don’t tell me who she is. The keys are in the bowl by the door.”
The little pitter-patter of tiny feet descending down the stairs could be heard. I turned to see little Ava in her school uniform. Her mop of brown hair was a tangled mess, but she had a cute pink brush in her right fist. She held it up to me.
“Can you braid my hair, Uncle Leo?” she asked me.
“Here,” offered Jenny, sensing my urgency. “Why don’t you let Mommy do it for you?”
Ava shook her head. “Uncle Leo does it better.”
I chuckled. I supposed I could take the couple of minutes it would take to do up Ava’s pigtails and compose a mental draft of what I was going to say.
“What’s that?” Ava asked as we sat together at the kitchen table. She pointed at the ring box.
“It’s an engagement ring,” I explained. I brushed back her hair, making sure not to pull any strands out of her cute little head.
“What does engagement mean?” she inquired, oohing at the diamond. I guessed to a child, it must have looked very impressive. That was good enough, in my book.
Jenny set down a plate full of pancakes topped high with fresh berries and swirling clouds of whipped cream in front of Ava. “It means to get married.”
Ava’s eyes widened, sparkling bright. “Uncle Leo’s getting married?”
I chuckled. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure?”
“Well, I have to ask the nice lady that I like if she’ll marry me. She can either say yes or no.”
“Why would she say no? Doesn’t she love you?”
I looked to Jenny who was stifling a smile. “I think she loves me,” I mumbled. “But it’s complicated.”
“Will I be asked to marry one day?” she questioned, ever curious.
I finished up one of her pigtails. “Most likely. You might even be the one to ask.”
“When you get married, can I wear a dress and throw flowers?”
“Of course, you can.”
Ava clapped her hands excitedly as I finished off her hair. She had a few flyaway strands, but there wasn’t much I could do about those.
Jenny sat across from us at the table, a comically massive mug of coffee in her hand. “Seriously, who’s the girl?”
I sighed. If I didn’t answer my sister’s question, she’d only hound me until I finally broke down. “Her name’s Giselle.”
“Hm. Pretty.”
I furrowed my brows. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I said it’s pretty.”
“Yeah, but you sounded super condescending about it.”
“I mean, there’s got to be a reason why you haven’t told me about her yet. When did you two meet?”
“Last year.”
Jenny gawked, a little dripple of coffee leaking from the corner of her mouth. “Excuse me? A year? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about the girl?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
My sister squinted her eyes at me like she didn’t believe me. “What are you hiding? Is she pregnant or something?”
I coughed, startled. “What? No.”
“Why else would you keep her a secret?”
“Because my love life is none of your business, thank you very much.”
Ava gasped. “Am I getting a cousin?”
I patted her on the head. “No, honey. You’re not getting a cousin. Wipe your chin, please.”
With a resounding sigh, Jenny stood. “Since when haven’t you been able to talk to me, Leo? I thought we were close.”
“We are close. I just have to figure things out by myself right now.”
“Hm,” she mumbled, again with that judgmental tone and expressi
on. She held her hand out and led Ava to the door. “Come on, honey. The bus is going to be here soon. Have you packed your bag?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
As they passed me, Jenny clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck. I hope she says yes. Maybe then I’ll finally be able to meet her.”
“Thanks. I’ll take all the luck I can get.”
20
Giselle
Lucinda had folders. If I wasn’t so concerned about being married off to men I didn’t even know, I would have actually been very impressed by her research capabilities. There were literal stacks of profiles sitting out on the table in front of me, each with a high-quality photograph of an eligible royal bachelor. Their names, age, blood types, hobbies—it was all there.
Father’s three picks for me sat in the center of the table in a straight line, their images staring at me. They were all handsome, sure. But none of them could hold a candle to Leo. Prince Wilson was older than I imagined, and taller and much too lean for my liking. He also had a bit of a unibrow situation going on, but I didn’t know if I was allowed to comment on it or not. At least, not in polite company. The next short-listed candidate, Prince David looked handsome enough. But the second I read that his hobbies included e-sports videogames, I knew we weren’t going to click, even if I tried.
And then there was Prince Harold. He was already out of the question, so I didn’t know why Lucinda bothered showing me his profile. Everything about him screamed that he was angry. He wore a slight scowl in the image, thick black brows pulled together into a tiny frown. I couldn’t tell if that was his version of smiling, or if that was supposed to be his neutral expression. I’d never seen resting bitch face on a man before, but there was always a first time for everything. His lips were thin and chapped, his hair was greasy with an excess of gel, and he for some reason felt the need to puff his chest out for the camera.
I pushed his profile away, forcing a polite smile. “Can you please consider someone else?”
Lucinda nodded sagely. She was a tiny woman, a good couple of inches shorter than myself. Her long, wavy white hair looked almost like a cloud about her head. Wrinkles adorned her brow, the corners of her eyes, her cheeks, and the corners of her lips. There were huge dark bags beneath her eyes, which were watery and always a little red around the edges. I chalked it up to either old age or allergies. She wore a flowing blue dress made of some sort of light fabric, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. She reached with long, boney fingers to the pile and shuffled through a few documents before finding me what she considered another suitable match.
“What do you look for in a man, Princess Giselle?” she inquired. “Perhaps if you gave me a bit more information as to your preference, I’ll be able to find someone more suited to your tastes.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and took a second to think. What did I look for in a man? “Someone who’s kind,” I eventually answered. “Someone who always wants to do right by others. Someone who’s selfless and brave and willing to go above and beyond to make me happy.”
Lucinda examined me with her eyes. “That sounds both vague and specific at the same time, Princess. Don’t tell me you have somebody in mind?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line. When I spoke, I hadn’t realized I had thoughts of Leo at the forefront of my mind. As I looked at the massive stack of profiles, I felt absolutely helpless. No matter what excuses I came up with, no matter how many profiles I rejected, there’d just be another to take its place. I placed my clammy palms on my lap and gripped at the fabric there, picking at a loose thread I found.
“Lucinda?” I whispered.
“Yes, Princess?”
“Has there ever been a point in history where…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to say it.
“Go on, Princess.”
I swallowed at the dry lump in my throat and sighed. I was just so exhausted and irritated and heartbroken that all I wanted to do was go and lie down. Noises were ten times as loud in my ears. Every little step I could hear house attendants making in the hall, every little wheezy breath Lucinda took drove me that much closer to losing it. My head was so light I was worried that it’d pop right off my neck and float away. The only reason I was sure it hadn’t already was because of the awful throbbing pain in my temples and the building pressure behind my eyes. I knew I needed to calm down, but the gravity of the situation was finally dawning on me. And to make everything worse, there was nothing that I could do.
But I had to try.
“Has there ever been a point in history where a member of the royal family married for love instead of political gain?” I finally asked, choosing my words as carefully as possible.
Lucinda’s eyebrows rose up in unison, a genuine look of surprise written all over her face. “That’s certainly an interesting question, Princess. Why do you ask?”
“I’m… I’m just curious.”
The matchmaker brought a finger to her chin as her brows furrowed, appearing deep in thought. “It’s an incredibly rare occurrence, Princess. Both your father and your grandmother were arranged to be married. But your great-grandfather, King Heron; I believe he wound up marrying his tutor.”
“So it can happen, right?”
Lucinda nodded slowly. “It can. But a lot has to do with the conditions.”
“Conditions?”
“While we may not be at war, our neighbors are. Things are too unstable politically. Your marriage to a strategically selected match is–”
“It’s important, I know. But I…” The words died on the tip of my tongue. “I can’t do this,” I mumbled weakly.
“Princess?”
“I’m… I’m in love with somebody. I can’t go through with an arranged marriage because there’s already somebody else.”
Lucinda picked up a few loose profiles and stacked them together, tapping them on the table to straighten their edges. “Tell me about him.”
My heart skipped a beat. “I’m not in trouble?”
“I hold no authority over you, Princess. It’s ultimately your decision who you choose. Think of it like I’m the waiter showing you a menu. You’re the one selecting what meals interest you.”
“Am I going off menu?” I asked, the slightest bit amused.
Lucinda hummed. “Yes, you are. But if you tell me about this mystery man, maybe I can help you weigh the pros and cons.”
“Do you think you’d be able to convince Father too?”
“Anything’s possible, my dear. Now, let’s start with his name.”
I took a deep breath in through the nose and steeled myself. This was the first time that I would be opening up about Leo to anyone since leaving the Obsidian Vow. We’d left things in such a hurry, left too many questions unanswered. But something exciting and brilliantly hopeful had already taken hold of the pit of my stomach. Now that I knew I wasn’t the first to break from tradition, I felt a lot more optimistic and determined to do things my way. I’d had enough with formalities, of putting everything and everyone above my own interests. This was the rest of my life we were talking about here.
The rest of my life that I wanted to spend with one man, and one man in particular.
21
Leo
I must have had a screw loose. Maybe all my years at sea had finally rocked all the common sense out of my head. I should have known better than to expect to walk up to the palace gates and be allowed entrance just because I asked. I was genuinely surprised and frightened by the level of security surrounding the palace. I hadn’t even taken a step onto the grounds before a security officer, decked out in black and wielding an armed semi-automatic rifle, blocked my way and stood before me.
“Identify yourself,” he snapped. His index finger was hooked around the trigger, ready to shoot in an instant.
I raised my hands to show I was unarmed. “Lieutenant Commander Leonard Pratchett. I would like to see Princess Giselle.”
The guard lowered his weapon and glar
ed at me skeptically. Dryly, he muttered, “Do you have an appointment? Nobody informed me of your arrival.”
“Um, no?”
“Then get lost.”
“No, wait. Please just hear me out. I–”
The guard raised his rifle again and trained his sights on me. “This is your last warning. Remove yourself from this location or I will shoot you.”
The air in my lungs burned while my legs were practically screaming at me to run. But my experience in the battlefield in high-pressure situations had trained me to remain outwardly calm. There was no use in panicking. It was clear the guard didn’t actually intend to shoot. Not only did he look young and inexperienced, but I noticed that he’d also failed to turn the safety off. This guy was all talk and no action.
“Please, just call Nathanial for me. I need to get in to see Princess Giselle. It’s important.”
The guard’s shoulders seemed to relax a little once I dropped Nathanial’s name. He almost looked a little scared that I mentioned the king’s private secretary. If I hadn’t currently been face-to-face with the end of a gun, I would have found it amusing that I wasn’t the only one intimidated by the man.
The security guard lowered his weapon and reached for the boxy radio strapped to his chest. Upon pressing the TALK button, he asked, “Does anybody know a Lieutenant Commander Pratchett? He’s asking to see the princess.”
A few seconds later, a woman’s voice cracked over the line. “What does he want? She’s a bit busy at the moment.”
Someone else on the channel piped up, “Isn’t she busy meeting with the matchmaker right now?”
The first person snapped, “Shh! You don’t have to broadcast that information, you idiot.”
Royally Loved Page 63