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“Yes, nauseating the rest of us with your long glances at each other from across the room.” I rolled my eyes, but I could help but smirk a bit. At least his relationship ended up well.
“I had to work for those glances. Unlike you, who just winked and recited poetry at any woman in sight.”
“Perks of being the more attractive brother.”
“Is that a perk, wallowing away with women you know you can never have any real attachment to, always doubting if they truly want you or just wanting the crown that comes with you?”
I did not answer.
“That is why we do arranged marriages, Gale. It might not work for normal people, but it works for us.”
“Maybe you all picked the wrong woman for me then—”
“From your tone, I feel like I was correct. I am quite glad she is giving you such a hard time. Nothing worth having comes easily.”
“I would like to go to sleep now.”
“Don’t you want to hear my advice?”
“You’ve been waiting your whole life for this, haven’t you?”
He chuckled. “You rarely give me big brother moments to work with, Gale. What else can you do?”
“Please, impart on me your great wisdom, big brother, so I may get some sleep.” The only good part of this conversation was that I now felt tired enough to close my eyes and keep them close.
“She is the one.”
“What?”
“Tell yourself that she is the one, believe that the circumstances that brought you together, whether good or bad, were meant to happen because you two were meant to happen. She is the one. It is fate. Once you believe that, you never give up, and eventually, she will always look for you to be there.”
I looked at my phone to make sure the number was correct. Yes, I heard his voice, but this was odd. “Are you writing a book, Arty? It’s fate. That’s your big advice? That does not help me at all. As I said, the problem here is not me. It is her.”
“I guess you are going to have to figure out how to change that.”
“Goodnight, Arthur, and stop calling me so much.” I yawned, hanging up on him and tossing the phone to the side.
She is the one. I snickered, burying my head into my pillow. Note to self: do not ask Arthur for romantic advice.
Tomorrow, I’d try another date.
And the day after that, and the day after that.
She just needed to get to know me better.
Once she did, I’d win her over. She wouldn’t be Odette, the cold-hearted with me.
Rising back up quickly, I marched to the door and wrenched it open. “Iskandar.”
“Yes, Your Highness?” he said, rising from the couch below.
I stared at the pillow and sheets that were now his makeshift bed, confused. “Wait, why are you sleeping there? There are three bedrooms here, correct?”
“One is for you, the other is the personal one of Ms. Wyntor—and I do not believe she would be comfortable with that—and Wolfgang is using the other.”
Right on cue, I heard the snoring come from the other side of the door beside me. “I said not to lecture him. That did not mean pampering him, either.”
“No pampering, sir. We alternate. I slept there last night,” he answered.
