Broken Prince: A New Adult Romance Novel (2 page)

"How are you feeling?" Eliot asked.

"Fine," Brynn said, too politely. "How about you?"

"I'm doing well."

"Well enough to go out to dinner tonight?"

"No
." The word came out more sharply than he intended, and he saw its effect on her, her eager face dropping quickly into a defensive mode. He did not mean to hurt her, never did, but going out in public now... it wasn't a good idea. He remembered the woman at the deli, the way her mouth had turned up into a sneer when she saw his scar, when she remembered him. Ten years, and he was still a public disgrace. Not to mention the cameras that followed him everywhere.

"Fine," she said. Her face had snapped back under its shield.

"Brynn, you know—"

"I said it's fine. I'll just go by myself."

"Do what you want," he said. All of a sudden they were arguing, and he didn't even know what had started it. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to explain what happened to him after Clare's death ten years ago, but he didn't know how to start. She had her shields up already and there was no getting around them. She needed space and he had to give it to her.
Stay back, Eliot
, he thought.

Brynn picked up her books with rapid precision and stood up.

"Where are you—"

"I'm going into town," Brynn said flatly. "To visit my mom." She didn't look at him as she strode by towards the house. "I'll be back tonight."

Eliot stopped himself from saying
be careful,
but she was already gone. He looked at the closed door and his shoulders sagged.

I should have been kinder. I should be braver. I should let her know—

"No!"

Eliot turned and kicked the pool chair hard enough to send it skidding across the poolside. The terrible scraping noise frightened a flock of birds out of a nearby cypress and they took wing, turning their backs on the estate as they flew into the forest. Eliot clasped his hands to his head in mute frustration. Back in his home country after so long, he felt like a complete outsider, shunned for a past disgrace he hadn't even committed. And now the one woman he cared about was turning away from him too.

Brynn
—beautiful, wonderful, talented Brynn. Since the moment he saw her, Eliot had recognized in her face the brilliance and passion that he had fallen so easily in love with. The frailness was there, too. It ran alongside her eyes in sorrowed brows, in the line of her set jaw, in her smile too bright when it blossomed, too quick to fade. He wanted to reach his arms around her and protect her from the elements that sawed at her so roughly, from the misfortunes that come upon everyone and are always unexpected. It wasn't simply that she was passionate about mathematics, no, and it wasn't only her beauty that attracted him to her, although her curves made his breath catch in his throat. It was that kindness in her eyes when she handed him a cup of coffee to warm himself that melted his heart and caused him to know that only she could pierce through the defenses he'd spent the past ten years building around himself.

But their beginning had been built on shaky footing, and he wasn't sure how to reach out to her once they started bickering as they had just now. Another wall had risen between them, something muddy, harder to pin down. He couldn't continue to pretend that everything was alright in Hungary.

He
had
to tell her his secret.

CHAPTER TWO

Brynn

I passed through the house quickly, stopping only to scratch Lucky behind his gray ears. My heart was beating hard, but as I stroked his silken fur I felt myself relax somewhat. His whiskers twitched and he purred as I pet him, rolling onto his back in feline bliss.

"I'll be back soon, Lucky," I said. He was almost full-grown now, but he still acted like a kitten, and he batted at my fingers when I dangled them over his head. I gave him a quick kiss on the head and he ducked away.

"Goodbye," I said.

"Brynn?" Eliot's voice carried through the house, but I did not want to stay and argue further. Quickly, I slipped out of the front door and closed it behind me, walking up the lane of cypresses to the front gate. I half-expected Eliot to chase after me, but he did not. I had the strange feeling of being watched, though when I turned to look at the house all of the windows were shuttered.

After just a minute or so, the taxi driver pulled up to the gate of the estate and craned his neck outside of the window, obviously impressed with the castle. I got into the back seat.

"Where to?" The man must have expected me to say the Faust Cellar or the five-star Gundel restaurant, or perhaps Vaci utca where all of the finest boutiques lined the street. Sometimes it was fun to pretend to be a rich tourist, even if only to window shop. But I wasn't in the mood to pretend today.

"The Fiumei cemetery," I said, looking away down the mountain.

I didn't know what was wrong with me, or whether it was Eliot's fault. It seemed like every other time we spoke to each other we ended up fighting. He'd been so kind to me after the attack, but every time I suggested going out somewhere he would find a reason to dismiss it. Even dinner!

As I thought about it, my mind flashed back to the last time we'd gone out in public together. That night had ended with Eliot shoving a photographer against the ground, leaving me stranded in the shocked crowd. It had something to do with his wife's death, I knew that, but I wasn't going to push the issue. He had to grieve in his own way, just as I had to grieve in mine. But it had been weeks since that happened, and he still didn't want to go out with me anywhere, no matter how nicely I asked.

I wondered if he was ashamed of me. The crasser city papers had splashed my picture all over the front page and even though I couldn't quite read all of the words,  I could make out the gist of it.
NEW HERCEG LOVE INTEREST! YOUNG STUDENT IN THROES OF PASSION! CRAZED PROFESSOR ATTACKS PHOTOGRAPHER!
Tabloids are just as sleazy in Hungary as they are in America. Eliot was tall, dark, and handsome and I was... I was Brynn. Maybe the initial attraction was wearing off, and he was getting tired of me staying in his castle, spending his money. He never said a word about it, sure, but I could tell something was bothering him.

I clutched the letter from Mark in one hand, the daisies in the other. I thought I knew what Mark's words would say. Ever since I had rejected him, he'd been weird around me, still hoping for me to change my mind and realize I loved him back. I hadn't seen him since after...since the hunter. My skin tightened on the nape of my neck as I thought about the man who attacked me. I hoped that the next time I saw Mark at the Academy he would avoid the topic.

The taxi driver tried to make small talk but I pretended not to understand much Hungarian. Easy for me to do—although Eliot's sister-in-law had taught me a lot of Hungarian, Marta had never been able to fix my American accent. We sat in silence until the taxi pulled up to the cemetery.

"Köszönöm," I said in thanks, slipping a couple of bills into the taxi driver's hand. I scooted out and passed through the entryway into the graveyard where my mother was buried. The woman who normally sold roses on the corner was not there today, but I had the daisies Eliot had given me. My mom would like them, I thought. She had always liked daisies.

Clouds moved overhead and covered the sky, blotting out the sun in a white-gray haze. This morning had been so sunny, at least at Eliot's estate. Now everything seemed gloomy and claustrophobic over the cemetery. Down the end of the first pathway, I stopped briefly at the place where Eliot's late wife was buried. Normally I would leave half of my flowers, but it seemed strange to give his daisies to Clare. Wrong, somehow. Instead I paused and bowed my head, not really praying but wanting to do something, anything, for Eliot's sake. The young wife, the tragic car accident. Would I ever be able to live up to his perfect memory of her? Maybe that was why he was pulling away from me...

I shook myself out of my thoughts. Jealousy was a terrible emotion, but jealousy of the dead was even worse. Tucking the flowers under my arm, I kept walking. Back, back, all the way back and to the right. That's where my mother was buried, in a small and unassuming grave in the corner of a Hungarian cemetery. I sat down next to the small white gravestone and set the daisies to rest against the front of the stone. The roses I had left there last week had wilted in the summer heat. The silken petals were edged with brown decay. Death creeping in, just like always. I put the old bouquet up to my nose and inhaled deeply. The scent overwhelmed me. Fresh roses were beautiful, but dying flowers always gave off a richer, headier fragrance. Like they were trying to give all that they had to the world before shriveling up completely.

"Hi mom," I said, tucking my legs under me as I sat down on the grass. The air was still warm even with the clouds covering the sun, and more humid than usual.

"I'm doing okay, mom, but I don't know what to do about Eliot. Maybe it's just that I'm stressed. The paper is set to be published this summer, but we still have to do a ton of revisions. I want to get this proof done before we publish, so it can be included, but it's not happening, no matter how hard I push myself. He doesn't push me, it's not his fault, I'm stressing myself out."

I sighed and leaned back against the gravestone, closing my eyes.

"I don't know, mom. I love him, I do, and I think he loves me. I want to be with him, I really do. Only—every time he touches me now, it's different. I can't believe he really wants me. Something inside of me shuts down and pulls away, and it freaks him out, I can tell. It freaks
me
out. I want to tell him it's okay, but how do I know it's really okay? How do I know if he wants me? How do I know if I want to be here?"

I waited silently. I wanted my mom to tell me the answer, I wanted some kind of reassurance that I wasn't going crazy. After all the time I had spent falling in love with Eliot, to have our relationship fall apart so quickly terrified me. He had grown so irritable, getting mad over nothing at all. Second thoughts, maybe. Second thoughts about me. Once upon a time, he'd sworn that he loved me...

I touched my bare neck. He'd given me a small necklace, a silver heart with two diamonds inside, and I'd lost it last year. I'd searched the house everywhere but never found it. It was irresponsible of me, and I thought that Eliot would think me immature, but he only laughed when I told him and asked me if I wanted another one. But I was immature. And irresponsible. And now things were falling apart.

"Maybe we went too fast. I thought I wanted him close to me after...after the hunter attacked me. But maybe that wasn't a good idea.  I don't know, mom."

I plucked out one of the daisies from her gravestone and twirled it in my hand.

"What do you think, universe? Does he love me? Do I love him? Is this what love is?"

My fingertips trailed over one of the daisy's petals, soft and white. Without letting myself hesitate, I plucked the petal from its center.

"I love him."

Another petal.

"I love him not."

Another petal. This one ripped a third of the way down the middle, leaving a jagged edge of white.

"I love him."

A bird called out from one of the cypress trees edging the cemetery and I stopped, closing my hand over the daisy. How could the random distribution of petals in a flower, whether even or odd, predict love? I crumpled the flower in my palm.

"What am I doing here, mom? Should I stay? Here in Hungary?"

An image of my mother flashed into my mind—a dark, hooded figure, tearing her to shreds. A chill ran through my bones, even in the summer sun. My mother had come to Hungary and never left. I shook the cold thought from my mind.

"I'm sorry, mom. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better. I wish I knew more. I wish you could be here to tell me what to do."

I tilted my head back and kept talking.

"Eliot told me that I could stay with him as long as I wanted, even next year. I could finish up my math degree at the academy. It would be nice, I guess, to be with him. I'd live in the castle. It's a nice castle. I know, right?
A nice castle.
And we'd be working on the math problem more."

My eyes burned red as I knew what I had to say next. It had been so many times now that I'd visited my mom that I had stopped crying. I never really did cry much. And yet now, thinking about staying with Eliot, with his strange withdrawals, I was on the verge of outright sobs. I managed to choke out the words quietly, without letting the tears fall.

"But I miss my friends back home. I miss Shannon. I miss everyone in the math department. Even Quentin. And Mark is going home soon..."

I looked down at the envelope. Mark's letter. I hadn't responded to any of his texts. He'd left me voicemails telling me that he loved me, telling me that he understood if I didn't want to talk, telling me that he hoped I was better. I didn't know how to answer him. How do you talk to a friend after you've broken his heart?

I blinked back into focus, took a deep breath, and ripped open the envelope. When I read the letter, all of the air in my lungs seemed to disappear, and the crumpled daisy in my hand fell forgotten to the ground.

Brynn,

I need to talk to you. It's about your mom.

CHAPTER THREE

Eliot

“All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.”

Galileo Galilei

When the doorbell rang, Eliot had no idea who it could be. Hard at work on the general case of the mathematical proof he was working on, he groaned to hear the distraction.

"Who is it?" Eliot asked through the closed door.

"For God's sake Eliot, don't be a ninny. Open up."

There was only one person who would say something like that, and he opened the door to find his sister-in-law grinning brightly at him, her blond hair tied back into a sleek ponytail.