To Steal a Prince (17 page)

I step back into my dress. Eris is wasted on menial chores. Maybe someday I can convince her to follow her passion.

“Let’s get you back to the hall.” Eris shoos me out of the room, closing the door behind her like she’s protecting a stolen treasure. “I promised Damon I’d have you back as soon as possible, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Reluctantly, I follow her down the labyrinth of hallways. Even though it would have looked ridiculous, I wish I could still be wearing that beautiful bronze gown.

Eris leaves me beside a pillar, with instructions to wait for Damon. “I’ll see you later, Grace. We should do one more fitting before the ball, just to make sure it’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Eris. In your hands, I’m sure it will be.”

She beams to me, curtsies out of habit, then runs back the way we came, no doubt to take up a needle and thread.

I collapse against the pillar, grateful to be alone for a moment. Maybe now my thoughts can have a chance to settle.

Someone clears their throat beside me. My heart almost stops when I realize that the king is standing there.

“Your Majesty!” I don’t know what to say. My head has emptied of all the formal curtsies Damon showed me.

“Hello, Miss Sparrow.”

What’s the king doing here, anyway? Why would he want to talk to me? My first instinct is that he’s lost, but I’m guessing that he probably has a sense of the palace layout.

He glances to either side, as if checking for spies or assassins. “Could I speak to you a moment?”

Maybe he’s not checking for spies, but for witnesses. Maybe he’s about to kill me himself. I wish Eris hadn’t left. Clasping my hands behind my back, I pinch myself. I have to snap out of it. “Of course, Majesty.”

“You may call me Darius. May I call you Grace?”

“Certainly, Majesty.” I wince, but he can’t expect me to jump into using his first name immediately. It feels wrong, and incredibly rude.

The king nods. “Use Darius whenever you’re comfortable. ‘Majesty’ gets old very quickly.” He moves closer to me, almost too close. If there weren’t so many, I could count the number of gray hairs in his beard.

“Now,” he lowers his voice, “mind if we talk?”

“Sure.” I can have a casual conversation with a king. Why not?

He frowns, as if unsure where to begin. “My son seems quite fond of you. Whether that’s against his better judgment is open to interpretation. That’s not why I’m here, though. I’m here to ask if my son, and the life that comes with him, is right for you.”

I do my best not to bristle with indignation. The king and his family have been awful to me. Now I’m supposed to think that he has my best interests in mind?

Darius pieces me with a regal gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t have to trust me. I’m simply going to tell you the facts. It’s easy to get drawn into this life by the sheer glamor and opulence. The excitement fades in time. Do you think you’ll be able to hang on Damon’s arm every day? He’s away almost 100 days of the year on missions of diplomacy for the City. His life isn’t his own, and yours wouldn’t be either.

“You would be assigned a handler to help manage your image, since a whole kingdom is watching you. Trying to have a life while being on show for the world is like walking the edge of a knife, and you have to look lovely and poised even when the blade is cutting you to shreds. And you will be cut.

“Everyone will feel owed a look into your life, and nothing can replace the desire to be able to blend into a crowd, to disappear. No matter how much wealth you give away, people will always feel envious because you’ll always have more. You’ll start to feel like a marionette, with everyone else pulling the strings. And there will be no easy escape. Once you’ve been brushed with this kind of fame, you’ll never be anonymous again. There’s no going back from that.”

“Why do you think I’d want to escape?” I try to sound brave, but my palms started to sweat halfway through his monologue.

“I had someone look into your background. You worked on the Blue Whirlwind cruise ship? A couple years ago, burglaries seemed to spike wherever she pulled into port. A painting here, a ring and a briefcase of bearer bonds there. Most of these cases are still open, but going cold. You were on that ship. I’m sure any testimony you could give police in those thirteen countries would be much appreciated.”

“Is that an accusation?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere miles away.

“Of course not. That would be absolutely vulgar. I’m simply saying that such a life of … adventure would be impossible with my son. He’s a prince. Any act of wrongdoing, no matter how tenuously linked, would be devastating for him. You wouldn’t want to shatter Damon’s reputation, would you?”

“No.”

“Let’s not waste our time pretending that you’ve never stolen anything.” The king takes out a gold pocket watch, checking it briskly, as if this conversation’s wasting his day. “I have footage of the car theft. The media wouldn’t make much of it now, but if it came out that you were with the prince, well,” he stares at me. “Neither of us wants that to happen, now do we?”

I do my best not to look as pissed as I feel. Does this conversation have a point, or is he trying to break a personal threats-per-minute record?

“Think long and hard before choosing this life, Grace. Damon was born to it, and must follow the path that was laid for him. You are fortunate in that you can decide to forge your own path. I would advise you not to take that freedom lightly.”

“Thanks for the advice, sir.” I hope that our little chat is finally over. Curtseying as best I can, I turn to go.

“Oh, if you do choose to leave the palace for good, there are ways of cushioning the blow. I could make sure you’d forget Damon in a fortnight.”

“What are you suggesting?”

The king gives me a cold smile. “I don’t deal in coin myself, but talk to Nic. He can handle everything.”

“Is that all?” The words feel thick in my mouth, but I can’t think of anything else to say.

The king’s eyes are lighter than Damon’s. Colder, too. “Before you make a decision, keep in mind that your mere presence casts Damon in a rather unflattering light. That’s hardly fair to him. If you really cared for him, you wouldn’t put him through that.”

He waves a hand at me, flashing more rings than I can count. It seems that my audience with the king has ended.

I stand stock still as he sweeps out of the hall. As soon as he’s out of sight, I race away in the opposite direction. I have no idea where I’m going, but the need to
get out
pounds in my head like a drumbeat. I dash outside, my mind racing. I need to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to pull myself together before Damon finds me. The gravel paths weave in and out of each other, daring me to follow them and get lost amongst the high hedges.

This was a mistake. I don’t feel any better in the sunlight. There’s nothing to comfort me here.

But there is something familiar.

I duck into the rose garden. It doesn’t feel as magical in the day, but then I’m not in much of a magical mood. Curling up on a bench, I let myself breathe, hoping that I’ll stop shaking any second now. If nothing else, there’s a wall of thorns protecting me from the world outside. No one can find me here.

Did that really just happen? Did Darius try to bribe me? For a fleeting moment, I wonder how much he’d offer. I shake my head. Damon’s worth more than any gold his father could give me. Besides, I can’t take any of the king’s money, not ever. It would only prove his low opinion of me.

I draw my knees to my chest. Damon seems so normal. I never would have guessed that his entire family was insane. And even though his father wants me gone, I think he was telling me the truth about palace life. I’m not sure if I’m crazy enough to join them.

Feet crunch on the gravel path. I hold very still, hoping they’ll pass by. After all, Damon did say that only he and the gardeners could enter.

No such luck. The crunching grows louder, and a woman I’ve never seen before pokes her head in.

“Sorry,” I say, “this isn’t really a place for tourists.” Maybe she’ll leave me alone without asking for directions. Did she wander off from a tour group or something?

“You think you’re the only one who knows about this garden?” She strolls in like she owns the roses, bending delicately to sniff one.

“Then you know no one’s allowed in.”

“Except you, it seems.” She examines another flower, acting like I’m fortunate that she’s deigning to speak to me. As she moves, she holds up her gown with one hand to keep it from dragging through the dirt. Why did she bother to wear such a garment if she knew she was going to skulk around forbidden gardens?

Her white heels were another bad decision. She keeps sneaking downward glances, her face looking like she took a swig of curdled milk. Despite her sour expression, she still looks gorgeous. She’s not the kind of woman who would make men turn their heads—she’s the kind who would make them break their necks. I wonder if she’s royalty.

“Are you here for the ball?” I ask.

“That took you long enough.” Her eyes flick up and down, though they linger on the necklace Damon gave me. “You must be Grace.”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve worn that dress before.”

I run my hands over the fabric, trying to decide whether or not she’s messing with me.

“Let me guess,” she says. “Damon has given you a stockpile of clothes, shown you his car, his horse, his yacht…”

“He has a yacht?”

“Oh. I guess he doesn’t show that to just anyone.”

I’ve had about enough of her. “You know who I am. Who are you?”

“Goodness. I haven’t had to introduce myself in ages. How refreshing. I’m Natalia Fa of Andova. My father is Duke Fa.” She holds out her hand like she expects me to kiss it.

I give it a firm shake instead. “Andova?” That country’s on the Adriatic. My cruise ship stopped there. “I think I’ve heard of it. Where is it again? Near Russia?”

There’s the curdled milk expression again. “It’s near Italy. Perhaps you’ve heard of that.”

I shouldn’t feel so smug that I upset her, but it was so easy. “Are you looking for Damon?” Maybe I can point her in a ridiculous direction. Like France.

“No,” she says primly. “He should be looking for me. He asked to meet me here.”

“He did?” Was he really planning to put off spending time with me for this harpy?

“Of course. We have quite a history. How long have you been acquainted?”

Before I can think up a clever response, another pair of feet crunches the gravel. Damon enters the garden.

“There you are, Grace. I’ve been looking all over for you. Oh.” He stops short. “Natalia. It’s been quite some time.”

The woman embraces him. “I’m so glad you could see me.” She kisses both his cheeks, forcing him to do the same. During this exhibition, she keeps her eyes locked with mine.

“Did you want something?” Damon asks. “I can have someone show you to the guest quarters.”

“No, I know where those musty chambers are. I wanted to spend some time with you here. Do you remember all those late nights we lay here under the stars, with only a blanket to warm us?”

I can feel my pulse throbbing in my neck.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Damon says, “but this garden is off limits to our guests.”

“What about former lovers?” Natalia purrs.

“Even them, I’m afraid.”

If the prince doesn’t kick her out soon, I’m going to have to do the job myself, with a handful of slashing thorns.

Natalia sighs. “That’s a pity. But if that’s the case, I’m sure current lovers aren’t welcome either.”

I cross my arms. I’d like to see someone try to make me leave.

Damon rests a hand on my shoulder. “Grace stays as my guest.”

“Does Darius know about that?” Natalia twirls a bud, threatening to break it from its stem.

The prince sighs. “Green simply doesn’t look good on you.”

Natalia unfurls a fan, waving it lightly. “How I haven’t missed your wit.”

“Look. I’m sorry my father promised you my heart. But no matter how much it irritates him, it’s not his to give.”

“Don’t pretend that’s what this is about.” The fan looks like it’s in danger of being snapped in half. “You stood me up on our wedding day.”

“I didn’t know I was the groom until my father tried to push me down the aisle.”

That must be the surprise Eris was talking about.

Natalia snaps the fan shut. “That’s no excuse.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I could have done.”

“You could have married me! Do you have any idea of how embarrassed I was, in front of everyone we knew?”

The woman is starting to sound hysterical. I’m seriously contemplating making my escape through the hedge, thorns be damned.

Damon steps between us, as if trying to shield me from her craziness. “You’re going to need to go.”

She glares at me, then looks back to him. “Give me a rose first.”

“Why?”

“You never did. Give me one now, it’s the least you could do.”

“Fine.” Damon reaches for a flower.

“Not that one. A red one. A nice one.”

The prince breathes in like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Will this one do?”

“Yes.”

He plucks it for her.

“Thank you.” She snatches it from his hand. “I’ll wear it to the ball as a sign of your affection.” She spares me one last glance then strides from the garden, her head tilted up like she just won something.

“I’m sorry,” Damon says. “I really wanted to get rid of her.”

“Why did you ask to meet her then?”

“I didn’t ask to meet her. Did she say that?” Damon eases onto the bench beside me. “She knows that I come here a lot. Don’t pay attention to her. She makes an art of getting under people’s skin.”

“Oh. She got me, I guess.”

“She’s had lots of practice. Don’t worry about her.”

I lean against him. It’s been a long day, and his presence is so comforting. “So she’s your ex, huh?”

“One of them. The only one my parents tried to arrange a marriage with. They really like her family, and I guess that blinded them to the fact that we were terrible for each other.”