Royal Disaster #6

by Ember Casey

  Abby.

  She’s still out there, somewhere, hiding from the police. But after everything she’s done, I have a hard time believing this is the end. As long as she’s free, she’s a threat to us, and having a huge royal wedding is going to put the target right on our backs again.

  Only this time, she’ll make sure she gets her real target. My hand tightens on Sophia’s. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her. I don’t know how I’d live with myself.

  But I’m being paranoid, I know. This is probably the safest place we can be—across the ocean from Abby. Surrounded by royal security. I bet if I say something, I can get them to bar her from even entering the country. We’ve got nothing to worry about.

  So for now, at least, I decide to keep my worries to myself.

  Sophia

  The closer we get to my father’s office, the more my stomach begins to tighten to a knot. It isn’t that I don’t want a proper wedding—I’d like nothing more than to show my family exactly how much I love Pax—but something isn’t right. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t here before.

  Pax seems to sense it, too. Being summoned to my father’s office is enough to put anyone in a foul mood, but there’s something else going on.

  His hand tightens around mine, and he looks down at me with a forced smile. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “I thought I was the one who was supposed to comfort you when we faced my father.” I give his hand a squeeze. “And I don’t think anyone can assume things will be fine when you’re about to face the king.”

  He arches a brow. “Power of positive thinking.”

  “If only.” I smile up at him. “But I’m glad you’re thinking positively.”

  “How bad can it be? If he wants to talk about our wedding, it must be okay.” Something washes over his expression, but I can’t quite tell what it is. “We just need to tell him what we want.”

  “What we want?” My brow furrows. “I’m fairly certain that is not how my father will see it. This is one of his conditions, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember.” He works his jaw for a moment. “All too well.”

  I nod. There’s not much more I can say about it—my father has likely already come up with a plan, and he probably thinks he’s being very progressive in telling us about it.

  We arrive at his office, and Stephan is standing in the doorway waiting for us.

  He gives me a slight sneer, not even bothering to look at Pax. “His Majesty has been waiting for you, Your Highness.”

  “We arrived as soon as we could, Stephan. But thank you for warning me.”

  “Hmph.” He lifts his nose in the air and turns to walk across the room to my father’s office. He knocks twice, and then opens the door. “They’ve arrived, Your Majesty.”

  “Send them in,” my father calls, loud enough for us to hear from the outer office.

  Stephan motions with his head, lifting his nose even higher in the air.

  We step around him, and as we do, Pax looks down at him. “Thanks, Stevie.”

  Stephan’s eyes widen in horror, and his mouth drops open.

  I would giggle, but the thought of facing my father has me feeling like I might vomit.

  “Come in, Daughter. Patrick,” my father calls from his desk.

  I close the door behind us, leaving Stephan standing there looking like he’s been sucker punched.

  “Sit.” My father motions for us to take the chairs opposite him.

  Pax and I both sit as my father spreads a stack of papers in front of him.

  “I’ve been thinking quite a lot about your wedding.” My father’s expression is unreadable, just as it always is.

  “So have we, Father.” I glance over at Pax. “I’d like to suggest—”

  “You’ll be able to discuss the details with your mother, of course.” My father’s lips tick into the slightest of smiles. “She does love planning these affairs. And after the last fiasco, she’ll delight in actually having the event take place.”

  He’s talking about my brothers’ weddings—after all the plans my mother made, the event fell through at the last moment.

  I force a smile. “And I’ll love having her plan it. I merely wanted to suggest that we keep it a small, private affair.”

  “Nonsense.” This time, my father actually does smile, one of the rarest sites in all of Montovia. “We’ve decided it will be part of the Independence Celebration. We’ll already have most of the family here for the State Dinner, and all of Montovia will already be celebrating. Penelope thought it would be nice to open it to all the citizens. They’ve suffered enough these past months. As the only princess, your wedding should be cause for celebration.” His smile widens. “It will be the largest party this country has ever seen.”

  Pax is gripping the sides armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

  “Father…” I frown. “It sounds a bit…over the top. I agree that the people deserve a celebration, but that is what the Independence Celebration is about, is it not?”

  He nods, still smiling. “It is, indeed. But this will show our citizens that we value them as much as any member of our family.” He looks over at Pax. “You would agree with that, wouldn’t you, Patrick?”

  “I…” Pax gulps. “I…don’t know.”

  “Of course you know.” My father’s smile falls only slightly. “Our citizens should receive equal treatment, even if they aren’t of royal descent.” He arches a brow, still smiling. “Something tells me there is nothing about this you should disagree with.”

  The hint of a threat in my father’s comments doesn’t go unnoticed by me, and by the way Pax’s expression turns almost sickly, it didn’t for him, either.

  “Father…” I let out a long breath. “I do agree. I love our citizens. Our concern isn’t that. This just seems…” I glance over at Pax. “It’s too much. Even if it is a celebration for the citizens, we don’t want it to be garish. We could have an open reception—invite guests into the palace after the ceremony.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll have an outdoor wedding where anyone who wants to observe may do so. After all, you’re already married. This ceremony is for everyone who…somehow missed your first nuptials.”

  Pax glances up at the ceiling, his hands still firmly affixed to his armrests. “We can’t.”

  Every bit of the happiness—or whatever it was—in my father’s expression drains from his face. “I don’t believe I was asking you.”

  “I…” Pax gulps again. “I know.”

  My father is silent for a long moment, his gaze narrowing at Pax. “You know.” There’s nothing resembling a question in my father’s tone.

  “I…do.” Pax looks like he might vomit, too.

  “I think what my husband is trying to say is that we don’t want a large fuss made over us. We’re very happy. I’m sure you’ve noticed, Father.”

  His glare turns to me. “You agreed to my terms, Sophia. You agreed that if this country was going to recognize your marriage, you would abide by those terms.”

  “I did. And I will…abide by them.” I suck in a breath. “But I think I should have some say in my own wedding.”

  “As I said, you already had a say in your wedding.” He stares at me for an uncomfortable moment. “And your mother and I did not.”

  “You already know the circumstances of our marriage, Father. We didn’t intentionally keep anyone—”

  My father interrupts, still glaring at me. “The largest wedding this country has ever seen. That is what you will have. And I won’t settle for anything less.”

  Pax

  And apparently, the king doesn’t want to waste any time. When we’re dismissed from his presence, that weasel Stephan is waiting for us just outside with orders to whisk us off to the tailors’. I spend the next hour being poked and measured and fitted for my “wedding suit,” which as far as I can tell will be even stiffer and more uncom
fortable than that thing they made me wear to dinner. I can only imagine what monstrosity they’re going to make Sophia wear—probably something she can’t even walk in.

  You agreed to this, I remind myself. You said you’d do anything for Sophia.

  But honestly, I can deal with the frills of the wedding—that’s not really what I’m worried about. I just have to make sure Abby doesn’t show up. The king’s demands—that it be outside, that anyone and everyone can attend—make it all too easy for her to sneak in. I’m going to have to have a private chat with His Royal Snootiness and explain the situation—maybe then he’ll be more reasonable. Even he must put his daughter’s safety above all else.

  After the tailors’ I’m sent to another room in the palace. I expect to find Sophia waiting for me, but instead, it’s a young man about my age with a long white apron.

  “This way, Mr. Donovan,” he says, gesturing to a chair before a big mirror.

  I sit. “What’s going on?”

  The man whips a pair of fine shears out of his apron pocket. “Your haircut, sir.”

  I almost leap up out of the chair right then. “I’m fine with what I have, thanks.”

  The man gives a little shake of his head. “I’m under strict instructions to make sure you’re polished for tomorrow’s portrait—”

  “Portrait? What portrait?”

  He blinks. “Why, for the official royal wedding announcement.”

  I should have known this was coming. Of course a royal wedding isn’t just about the wedding itself—there’s a bunch of bullshit leading up to it, too. I almost storm right out of the room, but I stop myself.

  Remember, this is for Sophia. Besides, hair grows back. One haircut isn’t going to kill me.

  With a sigh, I collapse back into the seat and close my eyes. Might as well get this over with.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Do your damage.”

  While he clips away, I keep my eyes shut and try to think of pleasant things. Like Sophia naked. And Sophia lying on the bed, waiting for me. I lose myself in image after image after image of her: Sophia in the shower. Sophia bouncing up and down on top of me. Sophia with her mouth around my—

  Something buzzes against my jaw, and my eyes fly open. I jump up, and the man falls back. He’s got an electric razor in his hand.

  “What are you doing?” I demand. “I never said you could touch my beard!” Doesn’t he know how much work it takes to maintain this perfect level of stubble?

  I glance in the mirror. There’s a huge smooth patch along my jawline on my right side now. The fucking bastard shaved my stubble!

  “What the hell!” I curse as I inspect the damage. The patch is several inches long. There’s no hiding it.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the man says. “I was told you needed to be clean-shaven for the portrait—”

  “I never fucking agreed to that!” Fuck, I’ll look like a preppy little fuckwad without my stubble. Especially with this haircut he’s given me. I twist my neck, examining my haircut in the mirror. I look like one of Sophia’s stuffy brothers now, even with what remains of my stubble.

  The poor bastard with the razor looks absolutely terrified. I’m not sure whether he’s scared of me or of what’ll happen if he disobeys his orders, but I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

  “Please, Mr. Donovan,” he says. “I was told to shave you. I had no idea you hadn’t agreed.”

  With a heavy sigh, I flop back in the seat. The king wins again. He’s probably sitting back in his office, waiting to hear that I’ve refused his demands. Well, I’m not going to give the bastard the satisfaction. Besides, what can I do? It’s not like I can walk around with a huge chunk taken out of my beard.

  “Fine,” I say. “Just shave the damn thing.” It’ll grow back soon, too, just like my hair. And next time I’m not letting anyone near it.

  I close my eyes again as he flips the razor back on. I can’t watch this.

  I try to think of Sophia again, but even images of her naked can’t distract me. My beard is disappearing. This is bullshit.

  Finally, the man steps away. “You’re done, sir.”

  I peel open my eyes, looking in the mirror. I don’t even recognize the guy who stares back at me. He looks like a pompous buffoon.

  The things I do for love…

  I stumble out of the room, making my escape before anyone else finds me and tries to maim me again. What’s next—they cut off my balls?

  It’s by sheer luck that I manage to find my way back to Sophia’s rooms. It helps that there’s a portrait of a woman with four chins at the head of her hallway—it’s hard to forget a mug like that. I race to the suite and close the door behind me, safe for the moment.

  Sophia is already there. She looks up at me, her nose wrinkling in confusion, and then she bursts out laughing.

  “Oh my God,” she says. “I didn’t even recognize you! What did they do to you?”

  “They mutilated me, that’s what they did.” I try to run a hand through my hair, to ruffle it up a little, but it’s too short to do much but stay exactly where it is. “They fucking destroyed me.”

  She’s still laughing as she comes over to me. “It’s not that bad.”

  “You haven’t stopped laughing since I walked in the door.”

  “Because it’s different, that’s all.”

  “I look like one of your brothers!”

  “That was probably the point—to make you look more royal.” She purses her lips as she examines me up close. “It’ll grow back.”

  “Yeah, I know. But after this silly wedding portrait of me is broadcast to the world. Fuck, what’ll my fans think?”

  “They’ll think you look very handsome. And royal.”

  “That’s not my image.”

  “I know, but…” She looks up at me. “It could be worse, couldn’t it?”

  My arguments die. She’s right—it could be worse. Only a few weeks ago I was in a hospital bed, clinging to life. If this is the price of remaining to live—and living with Sophia—then I guess it could be a lot worse.

  “I still don’t have to like it,” I grumble.

  “No,” she says, smiling. “And as a thank you, I’m going to give you an extra special reward tonight.”

  She has my attention. “You are?”

  In response, she takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom.

  Maybe I can get used to this princely life after all…

  Sophia

  It’s been two weeks since the wedding announcement photos were taken—and there are only two weeks more until the big day.

  I grab my toothbrush after entering the washroom, and I stand next to Pax.

  He rubs at his jawline. “It still isn’t right.”

  “It’ll grow back,” I say as I brush my teeth. It seems like I’ve spent the past two weeks assuring him that both his hair and his beard will eventually return to their normal state.

  “You keep saying that. But look at this spot.” He tips his chin toward me, pointing at a bald patch on his jawline. “This might never grow back.”

  I try not to roll my eyes as I finish brushing my teeth. As soon as I’m done, I turn to my husband. “I think you look very handsome.”

  “Yeah, right. Not with a patchy beard.”

  “I’d love you even if you couldn’t grow a beard.” I reach up to touch his face. “Or even if you had one of those horrible goatees.”

  He chuckles, rubbing again at his face. “That would be even worse than this.”

  “I will say I’m quite liking your hair, though.”

  He makes a face. “It’s still too short. And somehow, I think your family is going to insist on cutting it again before our wedding.”

  “Probably.” I hop onto the sink to sit in front of him. “But it will grow back. And we’ll have a month-long honeymoon to celebrate it.”

  He grins. “Have you decided where you want to take me?”

  I slap at his chest. “Have you decided where
you want to take me?”

  He slides his arms around my waist. “I thought maybe I’d take you right here.”

  Pax tips his head to kiss my neck, but he’s almost immediately interrupted by a loud knocking on the door of my suite.

  We both stop what we’re doing.

  He lifts a brow. “Important enough to stop?”

  “This early? Probably.” I slide off the counter, pulling my robe tighter around me as I make my way for the door to my suite.

  I pull open the door and find my brother Andrew standing on the other side.

  “Sorry to wake you, Sister.” He glances over my shoulder. “Is your husband still sleeping?”

  I shake my head, stepping aside to let him in.

  As soon as I close the door, I turn back to my brother. “What is it?”

  “Your husband should probably be present for this.” His brow furrows. “Where is he?”

  “Obsessing over his facial hair.” I turn toward the bedroom. “Pax!” I call.

  Andrew rolls his eyes. “Very princess-like of you, Sophia.” He shakes his head. “Perhaps we need to send you back to etiquette classes with Monsieur Bonnaire as long as we have him here.”

  Pax enters the room and gives Andrew a look. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me I have another lesson?” He shakes his head. “What’s next? Learning how to fold napkins into farm animals?”

  Andrew looks at him for a moment. “We have staff for that. But if that’s the role you’ve chosen for yourself, I’m sure our father would approve.”

  “Fuck, that’s why you’re here?” Pax drops onto the sofa. “I haven’t decided.”

  “I thought we discussed it…” I force a smile, looking up at my brother before turning to my husband. “We had discussed—”

  “I’m not going to be some court jester, Sophia.” He leans back, staring up at the ceiling. “Believe me, I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “I don’t think that’s what we decided at all.” My smile falls instantly to a frown as I turn back to my brother. “We had talked about—”