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“Ah. Good morning.” I wave at the chair before my desk, perplexed. “Have a seat.”
That smile is the same. A little wider, perhaps, but of course she’s less afraid of me now.
Olympia sinks into the chair and I drag my own back across the rug. It creaks as I throw my weight down, too unsettled to be graceful.
“Prince Alden.” She’s finally using my name, then. I shift in my chair, stomach tight. It doesn’t feel like the victory I thought it would be. “Thank you for the wonderful ball last night.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“And thank you for announcing our engagement. It will be a very productive match for our countries, I think.”
I… yes. Yes, that was the original logic. But after everything we shared yesterday, surely it’s not the only reason to marry?
I open my mouth to say something, lord knows what, but Olympia speaks again, cutting over me with cool confidence.
“I’m sure given the nature of our match, I don’t need to spell this out, but my sister has convinced me to be perfectly clear. Ours is a political arrangement, yes? Not a personal one.”
I stare at her, chest tight.
No. No, that’s not what I want. That’s not how this feels.
“And as such, I fully expect that you will have your own private attachments. Just as I plan to take my own.”
I lunge to my feet, ears ringing.
“No,” I growl. “Absolutely not.” I’m towering over the desk, lungs heaving, but Olympia doesn’t even blink. She sighs and pulls out her phone, tapping out a message on her screen.
And this is wrong, wrong,wrong.Everything about this is wrong.
Her words.
Her manner.
Everything.
“Please sit down, Prince Alden.” My fiance blows a lock of hair out of her face. Even her clothes are so different from yesterday—a band t-shirt and shorts, so casual after those dresses. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
* * *
I hammer on the guest suite door, but I don’t wait to be called in. It’s my fucking palace, and I barge into Beatrice’s room like I own it.
A suitcase lies open on the bed. The rose-printed summer dress from yesterday is folded inside it, the edges neat. Other clothes are in there too, and a journal and hairbrush. An e-reader and phone charger.
She’sfleeing.Running away from me again, without ever facing me for what she’s done. I’m so angry, I can barely see straight. When she emerges from the en suite, dressed in a long blue dress with a wash bag tucked under one arm, Beatrice’s mouth drops open in surprise.
“Hello,sweetheart.” My words drip with venom. I can’t believe the young woman I spent time with yesterday would do this to me.
She lied non-stop. She led me on.
She let me announce my engagement to hersister.
“Y-Your Highness.”
There she is. There’s the shy wallflower I know and—no. I won’t even think it. “Running away again?” Prowling across her suite, I glare down at her packed suitcase. “Probably for the best. God forbid you stick around and face the consequences of what you’ve done.”
“I’m so sorry.” She’s ashen, her lips pale. As Beatrice crosses to the bed, the wash bag shakes in her hands. “I know I did all the wrong things. Made terrible decisions. But please know, I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I scrub a hand over my mouth, my pulse throbbing in my throat. “How is leading me into a false engagementprotection, Beatrice?”
