He’s silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t expect you to, Mother.” His voice is low and I hear that same quality in it I did before.

  My brow furrows, trying to decipher what that tone is, but the queen must think I’m concerned about something else. “You agree with me, do you not, Victoria? That this…performance would be a little ridiculous?”

  I nod slowly, still not looking over at Andrew.

  He almost growls. “It is not ridiculous. What is ridiculous is expecting that either of you would understand. And how could you?” He pulls his napkin from his lap and slams it to the table before he stands. His voice is low and he’s speaking almost under his breath. “I should never have expected commoners to understand my needs in this area.”

  The pain in my gut at his words almost feels like a knife being driven into it—and it’s at that moment I realize what it is about Andrew I couldn’t put my finger on.

  Superiority.

  Nothing about him has changed from the condescending asshole who showed up in my office almost a week ago. Even spending this week with a commoner did nothing to change his mind. He still feels some level of disdain for those of us who weren’t born into royalty—even his own mother.

  And it kind of makes me sick.

  He stands there in silence for a moment before he storms out of the dining room.

  The queen also says nothing, she merely stares down at her plate for a moment.

  I sip at my tea, pretty much uninterested in any of the food she’s set out. I haven’t even taken a bite of the tiny sandwich in front of me.

  She sighs. “Would you care for a pastry, Victoria?”

  My head snaps up and I look across to meet her gaze. “No, thank you. I think—”

  “Would you…” Her voice trails off and I see her blinking rapidly. I could swear she’s trying not to cry. “Would you think it terribly rude of me to cut our tea short, my dear?”

  I shake my head, feeling tears welling in my own eyes in response to hers.

  She gives me a weak smile before she stands. She looks at me for a moment, but says nothing before she turns and walks out of the dining room.

  I pick at my food for a few more minutes before I stand and leave, too, returning to my room.

  I thought he had changed. I suppose I knew there would always be some part of him that looked down on me—on anyone not born a royal—but I guess I had hoped what we had been through had helped him see he’s no better than anyone else. That he’s just as fallible as the rest of us.

  It’s several hours before there’s a knock at my door. I know without looking that Andrew is standing behind it.

  I consider not answering for a moment, but then think better of it. There’s no time like the present to tell him what an asshole he’s being—that making his mother cry is almost unforgivable.

  I crack open the door. It is Andrew standing there, but whatever superiority complex he had going on earlier seems to have disappeared.

  He frowns. “I’ve already apologized to my mother for my poor behavior.”

  I nod, glaring at him through the slight opening. “Good.”

  “May I come in?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  His jaw clenches for a moment. “Please, may I come in, Victoria?”

  My eyes narrow to slits. “No. I think it’s a really bad idea.”

  “It isn’t. I—”

  “Andrew, you can’t insult someone like you did and expect them to just forgive you. I saw what you did at tea. I saw who you were. And I have to tell you, I don’t like the person I saw in there.”

  He flinches like I’ve slapped him. “Victoria—”

  I shake my head. “No, Andrew. You don’t get to spit on a commoner and expect that she’ll just let you back in her bed. Even if it is only to sleep. Even if it is only for comfort.” I stare at him for a moment longer. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  He nods. “Only because I know you won’t be sleeping, either. And…” His voice trails off.

  I wait, but he doesn’t finish the thought. “And what?”

  His shoulders drop and I can see he’s hunched over the slightest bit, almost defeated. “And because…” He winces again. “And because I owe you an apology.”

  Andrew

  She stares at me for a long moment, her face unreadable.

  “Okay,” she says after a moment. “Apology accepted.”

  Relief rushes through me. I know I behaved abominably at tea today—there is absolutely no excuse, and I can only blame the stress and exhaustion that seem to have attached themselves permanently to me since the plane crash. I start to step in the room, ready to take Victoria in my arms and show her how very sorry I am, but she blocks my path.

  “I never said you could come in,” she says.

  I blink at her, frowning. “You just—”

  “I accepted your apology. You’re still not allowed in my room tonight.”

  Now she’s just being ridiculous. “You know as well as I that neither of us will be able to sleep unless—”

  “I know, and I don’t care. It’s a bad idea, Andrew. We both know it.” She won’t look me directly in the eye, and I wonder whether it’s because she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve otherwise or because she’s simply that repulsed by me.

  “Victoria,” I say softly, gently. I reach out, brushing my fingers against her cheek and tilting her face up so that I might catch her gaze in mine.

  She jerks away from me. “I mean it, Andrew. Not tonight.”

  I withdraw my hand, feeling as if I’ve been stung.

  “You’re still angry with me,” I say.

  “This isn’t about anger. This is about doing the right thing. The smart thing. And that means stopping this...this...whatever this is we’re doing.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want. If this were about what I want, then we—” She stops abruptly, shaking her head. “This is ridiculous. You’re not an idiot. You know we can’t keep doing this.”

  “Yes, we’ll have to stop eventually, but tonight—”

  “It will always be one more night. On and on until one or both of us can’t go back.” She swallows, her cheeks coloring slightly. “We can’t lie to ourselves forever, Andrew.”

  I frown. “I’m not lying to myself. Or to you.”

  She raises her chin, meeting my eyes again. “And that’s exactly the problem.”

  Before I have the chance to respond, she shuts the door in my face.

  I stand there, stunned, for far too long. Finally, I lift my hand and rap on the door again.

  Silence.

  “Victoria,” I say, knocking once more. “Victoria, please let me in.”

  There’s still no response.

  I almost knock a third time, but then I hear footsteps coming down the corridor. It won’t do to be seen outside Victoria’s chambers, begging her to let me in.

  I shouldn’t be begging at all, I think. What has happened to me, that I find myself outside a woman’s room, desperate for her attention? This is not appropriate behavior for a man in my position.

  I turn and stride quickly down the corridor, trying to put as much distance between myself and her chamber as possible. I run an agitated hand through my hair, trying to calm the tension coursing through my body.

  I shouldn’t have lost my temper at tea. I should have been more patient with my mother and Victoria. Though I’ve made my peace with my mother, I’m still not entirely certain she understands why I must do what I’ve decided to do. My father understands. But my mother... She and Victoria are similar in some ways. There are certain things they cannot—or will not—understand.

  When I make it back to my suite, I throw my nightclothes on the sofa. I thought it wise not to wear them to Victoria’s room, in case I should come across someone in the corridor, so I’m still wearing the clothes I wore all day. I start to unbutton my shirt, then pause. Why am I even going to attempt to sleep? I know that slumber will not come, not when I’m this agitated. Not when Victoria isn’t in my arms.

  I turn and stride right back out through the door.

  In minutes, I am outside the palace, heading across the grounds. I don’t know where I’m going, but perhaps if I exhaust myself, I’ll find a way to sleep later.

  The sky is dark tonight, the moon and stars hidden behind clouds. There’s a crisp chill in the air, one of the first signs of autumn.

  My feet crunch in the gravel as I march down the path. The lights from the palace behind me light the way, but even if they didn’t, small lanterns line the path. This time of night, the outbuildings lie silent and dark.

  Except one.

  I frown when I notice the gymnasium lights are still on. Our groundskeepers aren’t normally so careless. A palace of this size inevitably uses large amounts of energy and resources, but we do whatever we can to operate it responsibly, and we make sure the same attitude is instilled in our staff.

  I march toward the gymnasium. It’s an old building—in my great-grandfather’s time, they’d hold ceremonial tourneys there so young noblemen could show off their skills in arms, but it sees less use these days. As I get closer, though, I realize I hear noise coming from inside. I freeze on the path. Has someone broken into the building?

  Crime rates are very low here in Montovia—certainly we have the occasional petty crime or act of vandalism—but the palace still has security measures in place. And I can’t imagine why anyone would break into a gymnasium, of all places. They should know we don’t keep anything of value in there.

  Probably some teenagers, I think, starting for the door. I’ll scare them off and be done with it.

  When I open the door, though, I don’t find any teenagers. Instead, I see my brother William in the middle of the room, an épée in his hand.

  “Fencing alone?” I call out.

  He looks up at me, smiling. “Just practicing.”

  “Care for a partner?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  I walk over to the wall and select an épée. I grab two chest guards and head masks before walking over to William. He’s the middle sibling in our family, and while most of us take after either our mother or our father, William is somewhere in between. He has the same blue eyes as the rest of us, though.

  “I’m a little out of practice,” I say, handing him a set of practice gear. All of us received fencing lessons as children, but some, like William, took to it better than others. I’m fairly certain Leopold skipped half his lessons.

  “Me, too,” William says, pulling on his chest guard. “But I needed the exercise. And it was getting a little suffocating in the palace.”

  That, I understand. Even a building as large as the palace can feel too small when it comes to my family. And William has just completed his military training—if his experience was anything like mine, it will take some adjusting to get back to normal palace life.

  “Is that why you’re out here at this hour?” I ask.

  “I just have a lot of energy to work off,” he says, smiling. He cocks an eyebrow. “You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  We salute each other, then pull on our face masks. We each step into the en-garde position, épées raised.

  In our childhood lessons, we were forced to comply with certain traditions of the sport, but today, we’re just sparring. We move toward each other, looking for openings.

  While everyone in this family is encouraged to maintain a certain amount of athleticism—and considering our resources, there is no excuse for why we shouldn’t—William has always gone above and beyond. Though he’s the middle child—a good four years younger than I—he was always the fastest of us, the strongest, the one who showed the most proficiency in any sport we played. He’s not as tall as Leopold or I, but his shoulders are broader, and I hear he excelled at his training with the military, receiving the highest marks on his physical assessments.

  I take a stab at him, but he blocks me easily. I am definitely out of practice—but even if I weren’t, I suspect William would still outmatch me.

  “So you know why I am out here tonight,” he says. “But what about you? Why are you out here and not with that pretty reporter you brought here with you?”

  He doesn’t wait for my response. Instead, he strikes, breaking through my defenses and landing a hit on my chest.

  “Point,” he says.

  My jaw tightens as we square off again. Even though I know William is better than I am, I still hate losing. And his question is doing nothing for my mood.

  “Why would I be with Victoria?” I ask him as we move toward each other again.

  “Why not?” he replies. “She’s beautiful. You showed up here together. And—” He tries to dodge my strike, but I’ve managed to distract him. It’s not a very skillful hit, but I manage to touch the point of my épée to his chest.

  “Point to me,” I say.

  William is grinning behind his mask. “Point to you.”

  We start again.

  “Tell me you’ve at least thought about her,” William says. “You aren’t a robot.”

  I frown, trying to maintain my concentration on our match. “I don’t see why it should matter to you.” He lunges, but I manage to block him with my épée.

  “Just curious.” He’s still smiling. “Though if you aren’t interested in her, maybe you wouldn’t mind if I—”

  “Absolutely not,” I say, a little too quickly.

  He’s managed to rattle me. The next time he lunges, he hits me again. “Point.”

  My head has started to throb. My exhaustion is catching up with me, and William’s conversation is only drawing my attention back to the one thing I’m trying to forget tonight.

  “I thought that might be your response,” William says, raising his weapon again. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun, Andrew, especially after what you’ve been through. This country won’t come crumbling down around you because you sleep with some reporter.”

  If I had my way, Victoria and I would have slept together back on the plane. And a dozen times since.

  “She’s here to help me with some business,” I say finally. “I don’t want things to get complicated.”

  “Is this the business our parents were arguing about earlier?” he asks.

  “You heard?”

  “I heard them arguing. I didn’t stay to listen.”

  I lunge, but he blocks my épée. I retreat.

  “I’m going to get married,” I say.

  “Really? To whom?”

  “It hasn’t been decided yet. But Victoria is going to help. There will be a public pageant of sorts. It will draw the public’s attention away from...certain unpleasant stories.”

  William seems to consider this. “I’m not surprised our mother dislikes the idea.”

  “It’s the best way to manage my current situation.”

  “I’m not disagreeing. I think it’s a smart idea. Exactly the sort of publicity you need right now.”

  “Glad to have someone on my side besides Father.”

  William shrugs. “Mother thinks with her heart. Father thinks with his head.”

  “And Leopold thinks with his cock.”

  That earns a laugh from William. “There’s a reason our parents work so well as rulers. They balance each other.”

  I lunge at him again, but William is ready for the strike and escapes the point of my épée.

  “Victoria doesn’t understand,” I hear myself say. “She’s agreed to do the story, but she doesn’t like it.”

  “Why not? It will be the story of the year.”

  “You’ll have to ask her.” I block William’s strike then retreat a couple of steps. “She gets upset every time I try to explain that someone in her position couldn’t understand the responsibility I bear. She doesn’t understand why I insist that my bride must be a noblewoman.”

  “Well, you’re the one who has to live with your choice, not her, so you should pick the girl you believe is the best fit. God help you, though. I don’t envy you. I couldn’t do it. Noblewomen are terrible.”

  I frown. “You think so?”

  He grins. “Oh, I’m sure plenty of them are perfectly fine, but in my experience, there are two kinds of noblewomen—entitled little princesses with attitude problems, and those who want to ‘rebel’ against their lot in life. Both types are far too much work. No, give me a commoner any day. They’re much more fun.”

  “But to marry?”

  “Fortunately, I’m in a position where I don’t have to concern myself with such questions. As I said, I don’t envy you, Brother. But I understand why you’re making the decision you are.”

  He strikes out with his épée, and this time, I’m not fast enough to block him. His point hits me on the chest again.

  “Point to me,” he says.

  I lower my weapon. “I think that might be enough for me tonight.”

  “So soon? You thinking about going back to Victoria?”

  I wish I could, but honestly, I still don’t think I’d be very welcome there. Besides, my brother’s words have given me something to think about.

  “Not tonight,” I tell him.

  “Then stay for one more round,” he says, grinning. “We can discuss which noblewomen would make the least insufferable brides.”

  Another night, I would have retreated to my room to think, but I must admit, the exercise seems to be doing wonders for the tension in my body. And William’s cheerful mood is definitely helping things.

  “All right,” I say, lifting my épée again. “One more round.”

  Victoria

  Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored him after he asked to come into my room. It had seemed like the best plan at the moment, though I have to admit I’m regretting it now—especially since he gave up on me so easily.

  Of course he gave up...you’re the one who told him to leave.

  I’m not about to sulk over his disappearing—it was my decision after all, and he had merely agreed. Instead, I walk over and take a seat on the small sofa in my sitting room and pull out the new computer the royal family has so generously provided me. I should try to think about how to start my story—Andrew’s story. We really should have talked this through today, but he’d been such a dick at tea that I hadn’t wanted to see him afterward—and he clearly hadn’t wanted to see a commoner like me until he was tired enough to need me to help him sleep.