Royal Mistake #6 Page 15

  My face burns as hot as the twisting in my chest, but I interrupt anyway. “Except that your baby is going to need to learn how to be a proper prince or princess.”

  “Oh, I know.” She nods, almost to herself. “And Leo and I talked about it. We both think it’s time for some new laws. The people here in Montovia aren’t backward, Victoria. They would support a more modern system of ruling, especially…under the circumstances.”

  “The circumstances…of me not being able to have a child?”

  She nods again. “Exactly. I think if we let the people have a voice in the matter, they’d say the old ways of doing things aren’t that important. That some traditions are meant to be broken.”

  “That’s an…interesting perspective.” I force a smile. “I think I’m going to head back to the palace. I…I’m getting a migraine, I think.” What she’s saying is the complete opposite of what I’ve heard Andrew saying since the day I met him. Tradition is the most important thing to him and his family. And to even suggest otherwise…

  Her brow furrows with concern. “Do you want me to find you one of those carriages? I’m not even sure how they call for them, but—”

  “No, I’d rather walk. I think the cold air will do me some good.” I pull my cape a little tighter around my shoulders. “I’ll probably see you in the morning. And if you see Andrew, tell him I’ll see him tomorrow, too.”

  She gives me a confused nod as I walk away, back toward the riverbank to cross the bridge back up to the palace.

  I don’t even know what happened, I think as I trudge back up long road to the palace. The night started off like a fairytale and now…

  Now I don’t know what it is.

  Andrew

  We’ve gone some blocks before I realize, with a start, that Victoria is no longer behind me.

  I spin around, looking for her dark blue gown among the bright colors all around us.

  “Victoria!” I call above the noise. But my shout is lost beneath the music and laughter and other sounds of the festival.

  I should have grabbed her hand. I should have made sure she was there…

  I turn, ready to dash back through the crowd in search of her. But before I can move, I feel a hand on my arm—Sophia’s hand.

  “Over here,” she says breathlessly. “Hurry.”

  I start to argue with her, to insist I must find Victoria first, but then I see it—beyond her shoulder, a crowd has formed, circling a group of figures. I know immediately that Nicholas is among them.

  A shout goes up among the crowd—then a gasp. There’s no time to hesitate. I charge forward, pushing through the gathered throng.

  There are five people within the circle of the crowd. On one side stands my brother Nicholas. His mask is off and his cheeks are flushed—but whether that’s from drink or from exertion, I couldn’t say. Either way, he looks furious. On the other side of the circle stands Prince Reginald—and three of his friends. One of them is rubbing his lip—which sports a bright crimson streak of blood—and when I look back at Nicholas, I see a matching bloodstain on his fist.

  Fool. You’ve picked a fight with not one but four drunken fools! Have you no sense?

  Even as I think the words, though, I know Nicholas would never have picked a fight with these bastards—no, I have every confidence that Prince Reginald started this. Nicholas is far from hot-headed—but when he does lose his temper, everyone around him would do well to watch out.

  “Excuse me.” I push through the people in front of me, stepping out into the circle. “What is the meaning of this?”

  All eyes turn to me. I realize too late that my mask is still pushed up on my head, but I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point—the crowd would probably have recognized me by my actions either way.

  I stride into the middle of the circle, between Nicholas and Reginald. “This is the Festival. This isn’t the place for schoolyard tussles.”

  “You didn’t hear what he said,” Nicholas says through clenched teeth. He’s speaking low so the crowd won’t hear him, but his words must reach Reginald’s ears, because the bastard lets out a laugh.

  “I’ve said nothing out of line,” Reginald claims with a casual flick of his hand. “You Montovian princes get offended so easily.”

  “He said things about our father,” Nicholas says.

  Reginald laughs. “A bunch of daddy’s boys, the whole lot of you.” His friends laugh as well, even the one still holding his jaw.

  Nicholas’s eyes are hard as steel. “He was commenting on our father’s ‘impending death.’”

  It should be expected to hear a few insults from Reginald, but this is low, even for him. Slowly, I turn to fully face him.

  “Fine manners,” I say, trying to hold back the anger suddenly rolling through me. “You’d think someone of your status would have more class than to comment on our father’s health while standing on Montovian soil. I’d advise you to remember your manners while enjoying another country’s hospitality.” And then, since I know the surrounding crowd has probably picked up on some of our conversation, I raise my voice so they can hear. “As I announced in my last press conference, my father is doing well and is expected to make a full recovery. While it is true that his health is a concern, the worst is past. He will be your king for many years to come.”

  There’s a small cheer from the surrounding crowd as people cry out their support for my father.

  Reginald, however, seems unfazed. In fact, his lips have curled into a smirk.

  “Oh, I hope for the sake of Montovia that he lives for many, many years,” he says. “Because God help them when you ascend to the throne. These last few months you’ve become even more of a joke than your brother Leopold.”

  My fingers involuntarily curl into a fist. Keep your head, I tell myself. He’s purposefully trying to goad you.

  “That’s enough,” I say evenly. “This is a celebration. Let’s all go our separate ways and forget this ever happened.” To the crowd I say, “Please, go and enjoy the Festival.”

  But Reginald isn’t done. “You insult and humiliate my sister on live television, and yet you can’t take even the slightest bit of constructive criticism. I’m only trying to be helpful, Andrew. You’ve become quite reckless recently. Is it because of that woman?” He looks over my shoulder, but thank goodness Victoria isn’t anywhere to be found. “I must admit, I’m a little shocked to see what she’s done to you. You used to fight your own battles, but now? Good God, you’re having her go up against me in the tournament rather than facing me yourself.” Another one of his sharp laughs cuts through the air. “Do your people know you’re such a coward?”

  Coward? The word burns through me, turning my anger into pure rage. Part of me knows I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’s gotten to me, but as he tips back his head and laughs again, I lose all sense of control. It’s one thing to insult me. But to insult my family, my father, Victoria, and Montovia is too much. Far, far too much.

  I’m no longer seeing straight. My vision has gone red, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m striding toward Reginald, closing the remaining distance between us. He’s still laughing, not even looking at me—in fact, it’s one of his cronies who first sees the intention in my eyes. But it’s already too late. I’m right in front of Reginald now, and before he even has a chance to react, my fist flies at his face. My knuckles hit his nose with the most satisfying CRRRACK!

  For a moment, the whole world seems to go still. The crowd around us goes dead silent. My body goes perfectly still. No one seems to know what to do, myself included.

  And then all at once Reginald’s friends move—all three of them charge me at once, even as Reginald is still recovering. A fist flies at the side of my face, and I duck—only to be hit in the ribs by a fist coming at me from the other side.

  Shit. I should have known that a fight with Reginald was a fight with all four of them…

  I bite back a comment about other
people fighting Reginald’s fights for him—I need to concentrate all my energy on getting out of this without causing an international scandal. Or losing all my teeth.

  But I have a feeling the time for diplomacy is past. I swing my arms—more in an attempt to protect myself than an attempt to land any punches, but at least one of my fists connects with someone’s stomach. The next few minutes become a blur of bodies and punches and sharp stabs of pain.

  And then I realize I’m not alone—Nicholas has joined in, too. And William—when did he get here?

  “Stay out of this,” I growl at them before shoving one of Reginald’s cronies away from me. There’s no reason for them to be beaten to a pulp as well.

  But I know my brothers better than that—there’s no way they’re running from this fight, not now. And frankly, I’m glad to have them on my side—it might be the only way I get out of this.

  Dimly, I’m aware that the shouts around us have gotten louder, and I pray none of the other citizens of Montovia are careless enough to join in the fray. In fact, I hope at least one of them has the sense to go retrieve the Montovian Guard. They might be the only ones who can stop this now.

  Knuckles slam into my jaw. I stumble back a step as pain shoots through me and stars flash across my vision.

  I should leave the fighting to Leopold. I’m going to be one giant bruise by the end of this. But I don’t stop. I swing my arm at the man who just struck me, hitting him right in the gut. He doubles over, and I straighten, trying to get my bearings.

  Just in time to see Sophia leap into the fight.

  I curse and lunge for her, but it’s too late—she leaps toward Reginald, who has Nicholas by the collar and is about to clock him right in the face. She grabs Reginald’s back, and he doesn’t pause to see who’s attacking him. He twists around, throwing his fist at his attacker.

  And hits her right on the cheek.

  A collective gasp goes up from the crowd around us, and once again, the entire scene seems to freeze. The angry glee on Reginald’s face gives way to shock when he realizes he’s just struck my little sister. Even for a bastard like Reginald, punching a young princess is going too far.

  “Holy fuck,” he mutters, clearly understanding the horror of what he’s just done. His fingers release Nicholas’s collar, and he glances around. “She grabbed me! You all saw that, didn’t you? She grabbed me!” He swipes at his nose—it’s bleeding from where I hit him a few moments ago.

  I rush forward, bending to help Sophia. William does too. She looks all right—if dazed—but she’s going to have a terrible black eye in the morning.

  “I think you should go,” I say to Reginald, my voice dripping with venom. “Or should I have the guards throw you into our prison for attacking our princess?”

  “She attacked me first!” Reginald insists, looking around at his friends for support.

  One of them steps forward. “She did. I saw it.”

  “Is it acceptable to strike a woman in your country?” I demand. “Under any circumstances?”

  “I didn’t know she was a woman when she grabbed me!” His eyebrows snap together as his gaze focuses on me. “And you’re the one who has me going up against your little American whore in the tournament tomorrow. Are you going to be upset if I actually fight? Or are you going to blame me and accuse me of things if I hit her with the pointy end of my épée?”

  I stand, helping Sophia to her feet beside me. It’s taking every ounce of my energy to keep from charging him again.

  “Go,” I say, “or I will have you escorted away in handcuffs.”

  Reginald doesn’t have to be told again. With a glance at his friends, he turns and strides through the crowd. The onlookers fall back, stumbling out of his path—all of them but Lady Clarissa, who stands at the front of the circle. She must have arrived with William, but she doesn’t have eyes for my brother now. Instead, she watches Reginald, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was interest in her expression. When Reginald strides past her, she doesn’t even look our way. Instead, she walks through the crowd after him and his friends.

  Let her go, I think. One less person to worry about right now.

  I turn my full attention to Sophia. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live.” She presses her fingers gingerly against her cheek. “His punch is pretty weak. Nicholas used to hit me harder when we were kids.”

  Nicholas stumbles over, rolling his sleeves up over his elbows. He looks tired, but otherwise in one piece—though I suspect he’ll have a few bruises of his own showing up over the next few hours. William looks a little ruffled, but far better off than the rest of us.

  “We should get back to the palace,” I say, realizing we’ve caused something of a scene. Within an hour the entire city will be talking about this. I glance around again. Where the hell is Victoria? I need to find her, and quickly.

  Before I can move, though, the crowd parts again—this time to allow Leopold through—with a regiment of the Montovian Royal Guard at his back. Leopold takes one look at the three of us before cocking his head.

  “Who said you guys were allowed to have all the fun without me?” He glances around. “Where’s that blasted Reginald? I heard you were having quite the scuffle.”

  “Reginald knew it was time for him to leave,” I say, looking around at the other revelers. “I have a feeling the crowd would have turned on him if he’d lingered even a moment longer.”

  Leopold whistles. “Really? That would have been great to watch. I would have—” His voice cuts off when his eyes land on Sophia. “Fuck, Sophia, what happened?”

  She smiles. “Reginald’s weak right hook.”

  In an instant, all of the mirth goes out of Leopold’s eyes. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

  “You’re going to have to wait your turn,” I say. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need to get out of the street before we start plotting murder.” My eyes scan the crowd again. “But first, I need to find Victoria.”

  “Victoria? Elle said she went back to the palace,” Leopold says.

  Oh. I guess that’s fine. Still, I feel terrible about losing her in the streets—though part of me is glad she didn’t witness this little scene. No doubt she would have been just as foolish as Sophia, diving into the middle of it without stopping to think.

  “Perhaps we should go by the hospital,” Leopold says as the four of us start toward the hospital. “Have some of those cuts and bruises looked at.”

  “And risk our parents hearing about our little scuffle?” I say. “I don’t think that’s a very wise idea.”

  “They’ll hear about it either way.”

  “Our cuts and bruises are nothing our palace physicians can’t handle, I’m sure,” I say—but I have to admit my right side hurts a little when I breathe. Please don’t let me have cracked a rib…

  Still, the most important thing right now is to find Victoria.

  I reach up and touch my face. Yes, I’m going to have a few bumps and bruises, but fortunately, I’ll spend most of the rest of the week behind a mask. Somehow, my raven mask is still propped up on my head, though a few of the feathers seem to be hanging loose.

  Reginald’s words echo in my head: You’ve become quite reckless recently.

  He’s right. I have been reckless. And though it stings to acknowledge that, another part of me can’t seem to care. Given the choice, I’d punch him again.

  Did Victoria do this to me? Is she the reason I’ve been behaving like this? Or is she just another symptom of whatever madness has come over me?

  Again, I can’t seem to bring myself to care about the answer. In fact, now that I’m thinking about her again, there’s only one thing on my mind. It seems like that little fight got my blood boiling in more ways than one—suddenly, I want nothing more than to grab her and sink into her and lose myself in this wild feeling coursing through me.

  And when I get back to the palace and find her, that’s exactly what I’m
going to do.

  Victoria

  By the time I return to the palace, I’m freezing cold. The cape I wore tonight did little to protect me from the chill in the air.

  I return to my room and take a long, hot shower, trying to wash away my doubts as much as I’m trying to warm myself.

  Part of me wants to remind myself it’s not too late to back out…of everything. I can call off the fencing tournament where I’m sure to have to spar with that Reginald asshole. I can still cancel everything—including the engagement.

  I look down at my ring for a moment. I’ve only been able to take it off to shower, and even then my finger feels naked without it on. There’s something so right about this ring. It’s the perfect symbol of my love for Andrew. Of his love for me.

  But the pressure of this entire situation is about to kill me.

  I slip into bed and stare at my ring for a long time. I don’t understand exactly where this uncertainty is coming from. I’ve been uncertain about everything since the beginning, but the one thing that always felt right was Andrew. Andrew the man, not Andrew the Crown Prince of Montovia.

  It’s only a moment after I turn off the lights that Andrew slips into my bedroom and lies down beside me.

  He reaches for me, and I slide over on the bed to avoid his grasp. “Andrew, I told Elle I’d see you in the morning. You shouldn’t have—”

  “I didn’t see Elle.” There’s something almost broken in his voice. “What is it, Victoria?”

  “I…” I pause, hesitating. He has enough to worry about without hearing my fears again. “It’s nothing. I just… I need some time to think.”

  He sighs. “There’s nothing to think about tonight, my love. Tonight, we should be happy we have to opportunity to be in each other’s arms.”

  I can’t quite place it, but something definitely seems…wrong. “I am. I am happy to have something to celebrate. I just… I love you. I do. I’m just not sure—”