Royal Marriage Market (39 page)

He owned up to his mistakes and is willing to pay the price to rectify the situation.

Elsa stepped up alongside her father, working tirelessly with Parliament and the people to help resolve the situation. And I am bloody proud of her for doing so, because through it all, she has kept her cool and proved to Vattenguldia why, if they decide to keep the monarchy, they are in good hands for the future.

When I returned to Aiboland after my trip to Paris, I discovered that Lukas wasn’t joking when he claimed the She-Wolf would lock me down. She and I raged together for days—weeks, even. I’d had it. Once I had word from my brother that all the money I requested be transferred into out-of-country accounts she could never touch, guaranteeing my father and brother financial solubility if push came to shove, I let the Grand Duchess of Aiboland know exactly what I think of her, her lifestyle, how she screwed up both her sons’ childhoods, and how she pretty much destroyed my father’s life. She threatened to remove me from the line of inheritance and I calmly dared her to.

“If you think I give a flying fuck about what you think of me,” I told her one rainy afternoon, “be prepared for a lifetime of disappointment.” I picked up a newspaper from her desk, one whose headline screamed about the dwindling importance of monarchies in the world alongside Vattenguldia’s scandal. I threw it just off to the side of her. “I’m done being your Prince Perfect.”

And then the first call from Gustav came in. And then many more subsequent calls over the following weeks, followed by further calls from his associates in the Monarch Council. I was—and still am—wary as all hell toward their intentions, but it is a start.

So here I am, my heart in my throat as I make my way toward the waiting town car. Gustav’s personal secretary waits for me, the door already open. As I slide onto the rich, black leather seats, I receive a text from Charlotte, alongside a picture of Elsa holding Dickie. The lad’s mouth is open wide, his fists tight as he bellows silently from my screen. I can’t help but laugh at the look on Elsa’s face.

“May I inquire as to how your flight was, Your Highness?” Bittner asks from the front seat.

“Uneventful.” I send Charlotte a quick text in response, and then one to Parker who stayed behind in order to help Lukas deal with lingering affairs I’m bypassing. “And much shorter than it was to California back in April.”

He chuckles politely, and we resume the rest of the drive in silence.

Minutes later, a pink palace trimmed in white comes into view. It’s no Hearst Castle, but it’s charming in its own regard. The Vasas have ruled over this landmark for nearly four hundred years, and despite current tribulations, I have a sneaky suspicion their lineage will continue to do so for some time. Gustav and Sofia may not be winning any popularity polls, but Elsa sure is.

Once we pull around the drive, I find Prince Gustav waiting by the side entrance. After I exit the car, the embattled prince clasps my shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Christian.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

He does not take offense that I declined to offer the same greeting in return. Instead, he says smoothly, “I trust that everything is in order?”

I squelch the urge to laugh bitterly. But that’s not fair. I’m here, and that is what counts. “As much as it can be, sir.”

Several staff members collect my luggage from the car.

“The Grand Duchess can be difficult at times,” Prince Gustav says as we head into the palace. “I would like to say she’ll come around, but you and I both know the chances of that are not the kind we ought to be betting on.”

And yet, I am at peace with that nowadays. “Change isn’t always the easiest,” I admit.

But sometimes, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“What’s that?” He motions to the box I hold within my hands.

“A fulfillment of a promise I made your daughter,” I tell him.

He doesn’t press further. “I had several calls with the Monarch Council this week,” he says. “I wish I could give either of you answers and solutions right now, but . . .”

“But tradition wins out.”

His smile is tight. “As you just said, change isn’t the easiest. In lives such as ours, tradition is often law. That said, many in the MC are not entirely unsympathetic with your plight. Discussions will be had, Christian. Beyond that, I cannot guarantee anything further, at least at this moment.” A hand claps my shoulder once more. “Except to assure you that Elsa has my support.” Distance crowds his eyes, as he no doubt reflects upon his piss poor choices over the last year when it comes to that daughter—or the other one his actions forced away.

Change is definitely not the easiest.

chapter 62

Elsa

When the smell of burned butter wafts out of the pan, I throw the wooden spoon across the length of the room. Despite Charlotte’s insistences, cooking is not a useful tool for relaxation.

“Is that a first, Els?”

I whirl around in the palace’s vast kitchen to find the Hereditary Grand Duke of Aiboland lounging against the doorway, holding a square box.

I must be dreaming. Because Christian is supposed to be in Aiboland, attending a groundbreaking ceremony for a new school.

My knees quiver as I stare at him. My hands have no idea what to do. All I am able to voice is his name. Just his name that holds a thousand questions and hopes all at once within two syllables.

Three months
. We have not seen one another in person, outside of Skype, in a little over ninety days. Our physical time together has been perilously short, and yet . . . over the past ninety days, the feelings I own for him grew exponentially, even as fears that the future we wish for might not come to pass match in growth.

The love of my life breaks eye contact first, but not before gifting me one of his too divine smiles, all wide and smug and beautiful and delicious, leaving me want to launch myself into his arms and lick the corner of his mouth. “The poor spoon. What did it ever do to you?”

“Burn butter,” I say. “And no—it’s not a first. I burned the last two attempts at this idiotic recipe.”

“I meant throwing it.”

“Oh! Well then, yes. I restrained myself until now.”

He crosses the kitchen to where I stand. My heart sprints right out of my chest and joins the marathon I know to be coursing through the capitol today. There is a real possibility I am close to passing out, which would be most unfortunate because hope is sparkling through my bloodstream like fireworks in a perfect sky.

“You didn’t tell me you’d taken cooking up as a hobby,” he says lightly.

“We don’t tell each other everything. For example, you failed to inform me that you were coming to Vattenguldia.”

“And ruin the surprise?” He tsks. “I think not.”

He holds out the box; inside is a pie. I look up at him, my mouth aching from stretching so wide. “Apple?”

“It was past time we finally cavort with pie. PIN has been far too silent lately for my tastes.”

I groan at his pun as I slide the pie onto the counter. Then I reach out and press my palms against his warm chest. “Didn’t the Grand Duchess have you on lockdown?”

“It was very Rapunzel-ish, to be sure,” he teases. “And to think, you didn’t come and climb my hair to save me from my tower. I had to escape and find a pie maker all on my little lonesome.”

I lift an eyebrow.

“Fine,” he says. “Parker went out and bought it for me. He’s a handy fellow to have around.”

I laugh. Seeing him here, in my kitchen, after so long, though . . . While my feelings for him have never wavered, not even in the tiniest bit, I am also quite aware that, realistically, we are in a stalemate. Neither is forced to marry against our will any longer, but tradition looms in the miles between us. Vattenguldia was—and still is—in crisis, requiring its royals to be ever vigilant in the eyes of the public. Aiboland is nearing the Grand Duchess’ Silver Jubilee. There is little time to be selfish and turn our backs on our commitments.

But here he is. In my kitchen. In Vattenguldia.

I love seeing this man in kitchens.

He cups my face. “I missed you, Els. Pie aside, I came here today because I needed to tell you that.”

Love, sweet, beautiful love for this man swarms every cell in my body. “I missed you, too.” The tiny fairies within my chest begin their dancing. “And I am glad to see you, but I thought you were overseeing a groundbreaking ceremony today?”

He leans forward, his mouth finding mine. I savor this kiss, and how I feel it all the way to my toes. “Lukas is there in my stead. There is a much more important matter to attend to. An RFC matter, to be precise. See, there’s a bridge we need to finally cross.”

Time grinds to a halt. Nothing moves, nothing but him and me and the hearts in our chests thumping painfully in miraculous unison.

“I thought the bridge was guarded,” I say quietly. “Or lost. Or blown apart. Or even no longer in existence, because the MC trolls were guarding the bloody hell out of it.”

He shakes his head slowly. “I found the bridge, Els. And I know the way across it. It’s simple, really. I don’t know why it took so long for me to understand that.”

chapter 63

christian

“See, here’s the secret: I choose you.”

Her blue eyes, so beautifully, fantastically expressive, blink in confusion. They hypnotize me just as easily today as the first night she asked if I was a virgin. And I was, I realize now. Not in the literal sense, but metaphorically, because I’d never truly loved anyone like I love this woman.

“I don’t know what the future holds for us.” My voice is steady. Calm. Assured. “I don’t know if the MC will ever accept a Hereditary Princess and a Hereditary Grand Duke marrying. But I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. I choose you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, while I have hope that someday the MC and world at large will accept us being together, I’m tired of waiting. Three months is a long time to not see your face in person, Els.”

“Yes, fine, I missed your face, too,” she says. “But what does it
mean?”

Our hands twine together. “It means I’m here. We still have a battle within the MC and our respective parliaments, if it comes to that, but good or bad, I’m here. Vattenguldia needs you right now. Let me be someone you lean upon in this time of crisis.”

Her words are barely voiced. “Are you abdicating?”

“Officially?” I ask. She nods, so I clarify, “I haven’t formally stepped down. Unofficially?” I smile. “Lukas and I had some lengthy discussions about what will happen if the MC doesn’t allow us to both retain our titles. He’s agreed to take my place if and when it comes to that.”

“I cannot allow you do that.” She swallows. “You are the Hereditary Grand Duke. Aiboland needs you, especially after the She-Wolf’s rule.”

I love that she thinks this. Knows about my mother’s duplicity. But more importantly, I love that she believes in me. “Aiboland isn’t in crisis. Vattenguldia is. And I’m not willing to wait it out to make a decision. I love you, Els. I want to be with you. I hope you want to be with me, too.”

“Are you daft?” she asks. But that gorgeous smile of hers returns. “Of
course
I want to be with you.”

      
“Then it’s settled. I’m here. It might even be a good distraction for the public, seeing you and I in our star-crossed states. Your parents wanted a fairy tale, right? A public one? Besides. I’m rich, remember? Really, really rich. And I’ve got all those nice bank accounts the Grand Duchess can’t touch with money that has nothing to do with the crown.”

An eyebrow quirks up. “You don’t even know if I want you to stay.”

Good God, do I love her sass. “I hoped my
too
-ness would sway you in person.”

She gasps in mock outrage.

“That said, if you want me to leave . . .” I motion behind us, taking a step back.

She tugs me right back. “Damn your
too
-ness,” she mutters. “Also, will you ever allow me to live that down?”

“What, admitting you think I have some mystical
too
-ness?”