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All the more reason Tristan is a good match for me. His life was shaken up when his father won that first election, putting him and his brothers in the spotlight. And while he now seems to enjoy the spotlight as an actor, he’s shared how difficult those first few years were, the country seemingly obsessed with him and his brothers.
Just like all of Europe seemed to be obsessed with Anderson and me, the new heirs.
After successfully navigating the short walk from the plane to the waiting SUV, I duck inside, Tristan sliding in beside me. Within seconds, Archie, my chief protection officer, pulls away from the tarmac, driving down the familiar roads of Montrose, the capital city of Belmont.
The streets are filled with people — tourists posing for photos in front of the historic square, locals zooming by on their bikes, children playing in one of the many parks.
I once loved the beauty and spirit of this city. Now, I struggle to see it as anything other than an extension of my former prison.
A heaviness settles in the car as we continue through the city. Even Tristan doesn’t attempt to fill the silence with conversation. He simply holds my hand, brushing his thumb against my knuckles in a reassuring manner. This gesture once helped relax me. Now I doubt anything can stop the anxiety from bubbling inside me, especially as we approach the gates of Wintervale Manor, the official residence of the heir apparent my father gifted to Anderson when he turned thirty. I can’t help but feel like an inmate who’s been absolved of her crimes, only to be sent back to prison for the same crime years later.
I remind myself I’m here for my brother. That I’m not staying forever. Just a short while to help him with the adjustment period. Then I can go back to Paris.
The SUV comes to a stop outside the sprawling estate, and I look up at the three-story building, green vines snaking along off-white stones, the grounds pristine and well-kept. My brother’s butler appears out of thin air to open my door. He extends his hand, helping me to my feet before dropping his hold and bowing toward me.
“Your Highness.”
I force a smile at his greeting. A reminder of who I am after being away for so long.
Outside of this country, no one really knows me as the Princess Royal of Belmont. Hell, these days, most people only know me as Tristan Hughes’ girlfriend.
I like it that way.
Like my identity not being tied to this place.
“Good afternoon,” I say to Richard as Tristan sidles up behind me. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Tristan Hughes.” I look at Tristan. “This is my brother’s butler, Richard.”
“Wonderful to meet you.” Tristan extends his hand, smiling as they shake.
“Likewise, sir.” Richard turns to me once more. “His Highness is expecting you. This way, ma’am.” He spins and makes his way up the steps.
As I enter the high-ceilinged foyer of Wintervale Manor, it feels like I’ve stepped back in time, the décor exactly as I remember from the brief period my family lived here after my uncle’s death. That was short-lived, though. Mere months later, my grandfather passed away, making my father king, which required us to move yet again. This time to Lamberside Palace.
Over the past several years, I often wondered why Anderson always insisted on visiting me in Paris instead of trying to encourage me to come home to see him. But as I follow Richard up the sprawling staircase and along the familiar corridors leading to what was once my parents’ suite — now Anderson’s — I know why. He needed the escape. Needed to go somewhere he wasn’t reminded of who he is.
Or, more accurately,whathe is.
That’s the thing about this life. We’re not allowed to be people. Not allowed to display emotion. Not allowed to show weakness. Instead, we’re merely objects for the people of this country to worship from afar, like rare works of art on display in a museum. Nothing more.
As we walk in silence along the carpeted hallways, the papered walls adorned with portraits of important figures in Belmont history, including one of my family mere days after my father’s coronation, Tristan leans close, his shoulder skimming against mine.
“I probably should have brushed up on my royal etiquette rules before coming,” he whispers upon noticing every staff member bow or curtsy toward me along with a murmured greeting of “Your Highness.” “Should I be bowing toward you like that?”
“Don’t you dare even think about it,” I admonish. I notice Richard’s posture stiffen at my response. “I like that you don’t treat me that way. That you treat me like I’m a nobody.”
He pulls me to a stop and loops an arm around my waist, dragging me into his chest. “You’ve never been a nobody to me, beautiful.” He inches toward me, breath warming my mouth. “You’ve always been somebody, even if I didn’t quite know who that somebody was.”
His lips touch mine, and I melt into him, tuning out the rest of the world for a moment, not caring about any of my brother’s household staff seeing us. I never quite understood why public displays of affection were frowned upon. If anything, they should be encouraged, prove we’re not these uncaring objects incapable of love.
But when the sound of a door closing echoes in the hallway, the noise loud in the typical solemnity of this place, I startle, jumping back.
When I do, I’m met with a pair of familiar dark eyes.
ChapterThree
Creed
I stare,pulse steadily increasing, jaw tight, as heat rushes through my body.
