by Madison Faye
He gunned it, and the helicopter roared off over the countryside.
To her.
To my Emilia.
To my heart.
Chapter 15
Emilia
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare freaking cry.
I wanted to. God did I want to, ever since that morning in the gardens, when I’d walked into her. And now? Well, it’d gone from bad to worse. Then it’d gotten even worse.
I didn’t know what I’d been thinking coming back to my old house. Maybe it was just a waypoint — someplace familiar, even if I knew whatever was waiting for me there wouldn’t be pleasant. But even knowing that, I’d returned. It was still my house after all, no matter how much a servant I was made to feel under Marta’s rule. Even with her and Portia and Renata there, it was still my home. It still had the memories of growing up, and of my father.
But nothing could have prepared me for what was waiting for me when Rian’s chauffeur dropped me off. I’d expected anger. I’d expected cruel words, and resentment.
I hadn’t expected to be attacked.
Portia had come at me first, screeching as she ran out of the front door right at me. The hit had come so fast that I hadn’t even been able to think about dodging it, and I’d gone down hard as her open hand caught me across the cheek. Renata had been next, kicking me in the ribs as I gasped for air on the ground.
But it was Marta herself who’d been the most furious. She’d come at me like I’d wronged her in some way, grabbing a fist full of my hair and yanking me into the house by it. I’d screamed, kicking to get free and holding onto her wrists for dear life lest she rip my hair out. But once we were inside, it was only just getting started.
And now, I was a prisoner, locked up in the attic of the all but forgotten south wing of the big old house. Not down to the basement, of course. Down there, I’d have my laptop, my room, all my things. But up in that forgotten attic, it was just me and Christmas decorations from twelve years before. I hugged myself, squeezing my eyes shut and telling myself that I was going to be okay. But really, I wasn’t so sure it was.
I knew what was in store for me now. Marta had screamed the whole way as she and her daughters had dragged me up here about what her plans were. She had a cousin, she said, who ran the household of an older Prince way over in Rogrodia — a man who’d three times been pardoned for domestic violence charges, and twice for assault. A man wicked and cruel.
A man who was looking for his fifth wife, and who’d be willing to pay for the opportunity.
That was my fate. Marta was going to sell me to some old creep.
The thought of it had me biting my lip, and squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the tears. I’d come so close to something so perfect with Rian. And the more I thought about it, the more I knew that what Kim had said to me was poison and lies. I knew Rian. I’d seen his heart, and felt that love that no one could ever fake, or manipulate. Her saying it had sliced me right where my insecurities lay, which is why I’d run.
But now, I knew I’d been had. For whatever crazy reason, Kim had lied, and I’d swallowed it all. And now, I was going to pay even dearer for it. I’d lost the man who made me feel alive, and next, I was going to be shackled to a man the exact opposite of Rian.
I stopped pacing the cramped, dusty old attic and finally sat on the grimy old floor, hugging my knees to myself. I hated giving up like this, but really, I was out of options. Rian didn’t know what had happened to me. He’d probably been told that I’d fled the palace like a lunatic. His driver would report where he’d taken me, but what would my King think of that? To him, I knew what it’d look like — that I was running again. That I wasn’t ready for what he’d offered.
I’d run once, and we’d found each other. I wasn’t so sure it could happen a second time.
And then there was Vi.
I squeezed my eyes shut again, shaking my head at the thought. My friend had come running after me as Marta had dragged me into the house. Brave, crazy Vi had come charging over, screaming and whirling back as if to attack my stepmother. But the older woman had caught her first, sending Vi reeling with a backhanded smack across the face.
“Oh, you’re next, you little whore!” she’d screamed at my friend as she lay dazed on the ground.
“In my house?! Disgusting tramp! Renata!” Marta had snapped at her daughter. “You know where to lock this one up.” She’d spat at Vi as her daughter yanked her up. “I’m pressing charges, you little shit,” she’d hissed. “I’m going to see you locked the fuck up!”
And that’s the last I’d seen of my friend — Renata dragging her away as Marta had dragged me to the attic.
…Damn did I wish I had Vi with me.
Faintly, there was this roaring sound in the background, and I frowned. Thunder? It was getting louder and louder, and slowly, I got to my feet. What the heck was that? I ran to the tiny, dusty window at one end of the attic and peered out, but I couldn’t see anything. Suddenly though, the roaring sound grew deafening, and a dark shadow passed over the window from above.
I jumped back, but when I peered back out, I still couldn’t see anything but the far side of the grounds. The whirring, thundering sound slowly died down, until suddenly it shut off.
Then, I heard the yelling.
Roaring, even.
I could plainly hear Marta’s screeching voice, and the sound of a man roaring right back. There was a smashing sound, like wood splintering, and I suddenly froze as the roaring of voices began to move closer to my end of the house.
…Oh God, was this it? Was this the Prince of Rogrodia come to snatch me away? My heart raced, my skin turning cold as I backed away from the tiny stairway down to the one door in the attic. The voices and yelling grew closer, and I shivered.
The door at the base of the stairs shattered — wrenching and splintering away from the frame, and I shrieked.
But suddenly, my resolve hardened.
Not today, I hissed to myself. No way. Not without a fight. I may have run from the one man I ever wanted, like a total idiot. But I wasn’t about to just lay down and let them sell me away to someone else.
The sound of boot steps came thundering up the staircase, and without even thinking, I grabbed the first thing I could grab and lunged, screaming bloody murder as I swung it at the darkened shape of the man.
He grunted as whatever I’d grabbed smashed into him, splintering into bits of wood over his head before he growled and yanked it from my hand, throwing it across the attic. I screamed, kicking out with my heel, but strong hands suddenly grabbed me, yanking me against a hard, muscled, unyielding body. I screamed again, lashing out with fingernails and my knees, before suddenly, the voice in my ear got through to me.
“Emilia!”
I froze.
“Easy, angel. Easy.”
And suddenly, just like that, the fight left me, and I absolutely melted into his arms.
“Rian.”
The big, powerful arms of the man I loved circled me, pulling me close like he was never going to let me go.
“Found you,” he whispered fiercely before cupping my jaw in his hand and kissing me. The kiss was fierce, and wild, and so powerful it felt like my feet left the ground. And then of course, I realized they had, and he was spinning me around, our lips locked together as our hearts beat as one.
“I— I’m so sorry,” I gasped into his lips as I peppered them with kisses.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, beautiful,” he groaned, kissing me right back.
“I ran.”
“And I followed,” he said quietly. “I’ll always follow, angel.”
Yep, there went my heart, melting all over again for him. And there came the tears too. Happy ones this time.
“What Kim told you…Emilia—”
“I know,” I shook my head. “I know it was lies. I just…when she said it…”
“You had your doubts, because we’d moved so fast.”
I shook my hea
d. “Maybe?”
“And now?”
“None,” I hissed fiercely, melting back into him as our lips crushed together before I suddenly pulled back.
“Oh my God, I hit you!”
I whirled to the remains of what I’d bashed him with to find a painted wooden Christmas elf I vaguely recalled from my childhood lying splintered and smashed across the floor.
Rian chuckled, bringing a hand up to rub the side of his head. “Guess I should be sure to watch out for you around the holidays, huh?” he sighed. “Poor elf.”
I giggled as Rian carried me back down from the attic, back through the house with the sounds of yelling and boots as royal guards searched through every room.
“What are they looking for?”
Rian shrugged. “Protocol. Technically, you were abducted, threatened, and imprisoned.”
“All this for me?”
He stopped, his eyes searching mine. “You’re the Queen-to-be, Emilia,” he said quietly before his look hardened. “And I’d tear the whole fucking world down to make you safe.”
He winked.
“But also, my guards upending, breaking, and trashing every single thing your stepmother and stepsisters own is kinda fun.”
I laughed as he brought me down the stairs to the main entrance, and out the front door into the sunlight. There, on their knees with cuffed wrists behind their backs were Marta, Renata, and a still-screaming-bloody-murder, still swearing like a sailor Portia.
“What’s going to happen to them?”
Rian turned as he set me down. His eyes searched mine as he slowly smiled.
“This is what I love about you.”
“What's that?”
“Your empathy.”
I blushed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I know you’re asking because you’re worried about them, to some degree. You have every reason to want them thrown in jail for the rest of their days, but I know you don’t want that, do you?”
I shook my head. God he was right. I wanted to hate Marta and her daughters for everything they’d done to me — for making my life miserable since my father had passed. But…he was right. I couldn’t make myself hate that much. I couldn’t make myself Marta enough.
“Well, they’re losing the house, and any access to whatever is left of your father’s money.” Rian’s brow furrowed. “That part isn’t negotiable. Not to me for what they’ve done to you. Beyond that though?” He sighed. “Not prison.”
I smiled wryly as I hugged him. “Thank you. I know that sounds crazy.”
“It sounds like the compassion a Queen needs to have,” he murmured, kissing my forehead.
“How do you feel about banishment?”
“I feel great about banishment.”
Rian grinned. “Consider it—”
Suddenly, another helicopter came roaring over the treetops, coming in hot and fast but quickly leveling before it sat down on the lawn. The rotors died down, and when the side door opened, a man suddenly came screeching and tumbling out, kicked by the boot behind him. The owner of the boot jumped down after him, tearing his flight helmet off to reveal Oren, Rian’s Captain of the Guard.
And the man on the ground, sniveling with his hands cuffed behind his back, was Tomilson, the royal advisor.
I could feel Rian tense, his growl catching in his chest.
“Oren!” he scowled, hugging me before pulling away. “The fuck are you—”
“Your Highness!” The Captain looked furious, his face red and his eyes blazing as he sneered down at the sniveling advisor on the grass. “What I’m doing is advising your advisor to get a fucking lawyer, because I’ve just placed him under arrest.”
Rian stopped cold. “Excuse me?”
Oren’s face was grim. “It’s been him, Sire. It’s all been him. Kim getting into the palace, the rumblings from the lingering remnants of the coup.” His jaw clenched as he looked right at Rian. “And it just gets worse from there, Highness.”
Rian’s hands clenched into fists, and I could see him sway, like the whole thing had hit him sideways. Instantly, I was by his side, my hand in his as I squeezed tight. He squeezed back, taking a deep breath.
“Thank you, Oren,” he said, turning away from Tomilson, like he couldn’t look at him. “Take him to the palace, and keep him in chains.”
“At once.” Oren cleared his throat as he stepped closer. “Coming too?”
“Yes.”
Rian turned, his eyes suddenly locking on mine and a smile creeping over his face.
“At once, actually. We’ve got pressing plans that can’t wait.”
Oren frowned. “I didn’t see anything on your official schedule for the—”
“I’m getting married, Oren,” Rian said quietly, looking right into my eyes as he pulled me close. “We’re getting married. At once.”
The Captain of the Guard grinned, clapping Rian on the shoulder, like a friend. “I’ll let the palace chaplain know to expect you.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Sirens wailed as the cars and vans of the royal guard roared up the house, lights blazing as more guards came running up to finish searching the house for threats, and to haul Marta, Portia, and Renata away.
“If it’s too fast, if you want to wait for something grander—”
“I don’t want to wait five minutes,” I breathed, melting into him as I leaned up to kiss him softly.
“Marry me, Emilia. Be my Queen, my heart, my love.”
Yeah, like I had to even think about that.
The “yes” tumbled from my lips as I jumped into his arms, kissing him, and letting everything else just fade away.
“Let’s go get married,” I whispered into his lips.
He grinned as he spun me around. “Let’s. Shane and Adam can pilot us back to—”
He frowned. “Where the hell are Shane and Adam?”
And suddenly, I frowned too. “Wait, where the hell is Vi?”
We turned to each other, the grins spreading over our faces.
“Well, I think we’ve got a very interesting ride home ahead of us,” Rian murmured, pulling me into him. “But for now, I just want to kiss the love of my life.”
“For now?” I teased.
“For always.”
His lips seared to mine, and the rest of the lights and the sounds and the chaos around us just faded away.
For always.
Epilogue
Emilia
Things have a way of working out — sometimes or even especially when you least expect them to. When I’d been in that attic, I’d been convinced that I’d lost it all. But just like that, it can all change. Just like that, love, and goodness, and hope can have a way of working out.
Marta, Portia, and Renata skipped prison, though Rian almost changed his mind when he found out that they’d hit me too. They were no longer welcome in Bandiff though, and last I heard, they were working as household help in a Lord’s home somewhere in a small kingdom I’m not sure I could find on a map.
The house and my father’s bank accounts went to me, but then, what use did I have for them? I was Queen by that time, and living in the palace. And it’s not like money was something I needed anymore.
Instead, I gave the house to the people who’d worked there from when my father was still around and then through Marta’s reign of terror. The ones that’d stayed had stayed because they loved that house, and me, for that matter. They’d earned it, and I’d rather have seen it go to people who’d remember the memories that had once laughed and sung through those halls then sell it to some stranger who might just tear the whole thing down.
I’d wanted to give it to Vi, of course. But then, well, she’d found her own happy ending. One that came with a palace, I might add. But maybe she’d be better at telling that story. Actually, she’d definitely be better at telling that one. Three is a very complicated number, after all.
Tomilson’s betrayal hit Rian pretty hard. And it went dee
p. His insistence on setting Rian up with Princess Jin had been part of this elaborate plot by her kingdom of Xijiangdu to take over Bandiff from the inside. The plan was to hook Rian, have her marry him, and then set up some sort of accident to kill him.
It was Oren who’d harbored suspicions of Tomilson for years, and his diligence and his digging had finally revealed the truth. It went all the way back to the attempted coup from years before, too. That was the worst part of it, actually. The truth, it seemed, was that the attacker who’d tried to knife Rian in his sleep those years before had been Tomilson, not his older advisor, William.
It’d been dark, but the truth of that night was that Tomilson had been part of the coup, and he’d been the one to try and stab the King. William had barged in trying to save Rian, and when he and Tomilson had tumbled out into the hallway fighting, Tomilson had gotten the upper hand and killed the advisor, later claiming that it was William who was behind it all. The limp Tomilson carried from that day wasn’t from his fight with Rian’s “would-be assassin,” it was from Rian fighting him off when he’d awoke right before Tomilson could strike.
Rian had showed leniency to Marta and her girls.
He did not to Tomilson. Unless you consider three consecutive life sentences in solitary to be lenient. I guess.
With Tomilson went the last shreds of the coup that’d tried to upset the throne years before. The last of the conspirators were rounded up through Tomilson’s emails and his own confessions, and Bandiff suddenly came together stronger than it’d ever been.
True to his word, Rian and I married the minute we got back to the palace that day. And actually, we weren’t the only ones.
…But like I said, maybe that’s a story for another day.
I found my King, and he found his Queen, which is good because she ran twice like a complete spaz. But she’s not running anymore. I’m not running anymore. Not from love, not ever.
In the end, it’s all about trust. Trust in yourself. Trust in the world. Trust in fate, or karma, or destiny. Or if nothing else, you just have to trust in love.