Chapter 27
Sophie
“Iwant to see the dungeons,” Ashton announces the next day. “You’re pretty good with your crutches. Think you can make it?”
“Hasn’t Gunnar ever taken you down there?”
He shakes his head. “There’s always something else we’re doing. I kept asking because it’s a castle with dungeons. Who gets to see that?”
“There’s really not much down there,” I tell him. “A few cells, but this was a Viking castle. I don’t think they had much of a need to lock people up.”
“Why, what did they do to prisoners?”
I lift my shoulders. “When I was a kid, and we’d go down there, Odin would always tell us stuff about the Vikings, but I never really paid attention,” I admit. “I know I should have, because Odin knows a lot about Vikings. It’s sort of his thing.”
“I wouldn’t have listened,” Ashton scoffs. “History isn’t my thing.”
“And wandering around in the dark is?”
“Yeah. You scared?”
“Of course not.” I don’t know where the bravado comes from because no, I am not fond of the dark.
And back then, I never listened to Odin because I was too concerned with staying as close as possible to Spencer—who wanted to be as close as possible to Lyra—or Stella, who was too busy trying to be brave in front of Gunnar to pay attention to a scared little sister.
“I think Gunnar is scared to go down there,” he decides.
“He did like Stella to hold his hand, but I’m not sure if he was scared or he just wanted to hold her hand.”
Ashton’s grin is just a little bit wicked. “I needed to know that information.”
“I really don’t think you did.”
“Oh, I do. It’s Gunnar. I always try to find out some little tidbit when I come here that I can hold over his head. It’s my lot in life. To make my friends’ lives miserable.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good friend.”
“Who says I’m a good friend? I don’t make them miserable all the time,” he relents. “But it’s fun knowing something about them that they don’t want to be reminded of.”
“What do you think I don’t want to be reminded of?” I ask. “If we were friends.”
“I thought that we clarified that we are friends. I know it seems unlikely that I would actually be someone’s friend. I’m the grumpy billionaire. You told me that yourself.”
“That’s true, but you’re kind of non-grumpy, too.”
“You think.” He holds my gaze for a long moment, and just as it’s becoming awkward, he smirks. “Guess I’m doing something wrong then.”
“Or maybe you’re doing something right.”
There’s a flash of surprise, and his expression softens for just an instant. “Nah.”
I laugh to break the moment, and to remind myself that wasn’t a moment. “Well, if you want to see the dungeons, you probably need an extra sweater. This is the land of snow and ice, and you can really feel it down there.”
Ashton grins, and for a moment I see how he looks like a little boy. “Be right back.”
“See if you can find a flashlight, too.”
“Ever heard of a cell phone,” he throws over his shoulder as he heads for the door.
When he returns, we take the elevator to the main floor. But it’s stairs the rest of the way down, and Ashton waits patiently as I slowly descend.
I’ve been doing my exercises every day, but there are a lot of stairs into the dungeons.
The air is cold and a little musty, and once the door closes behind us, it’s very dark.
“Are you going to be able to get us out of here?” Ashton asks as we creep forward. He turns on the light on his phone, which helps.
“No, I thought we’d wander around indefinitely.”
“Hmm. Sarcasm. That’s new.”
“Maybe you just didn’t pick up on it before.”
“Sophie, I am the king of sarcasm, giving and receiving.”
“You should be so proud.”
There’s a noise from behind that might be an Ashton chuckle. “Have we reached the banter stage?”
“How better to deal with a grumpy billionaire than to banter?”
I can feel his smile behind me.
“Are there secret passages in this place?” Ashton asks a few moments later. “I feel like there should be.”
“There are, but I don’t know all of them.
There’s one that leads to a closet near the main doors.
And I remember there was one that ended up in the Queen’s sitting room.
Gunnar and Spencer used it once and ended up interrupting the queen and the First Lady of France, who was here on a visit.
We were kind of banned from the passages after that. And now… no one really uses that room.”
“You really grew up here.”
“Only until I was ten. And then…no. Until now, anyway.”
“Do your parents still get along?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘get along’ is in the cards for them.”
I have to believe my parents were happy once. Back when they first met, when they married, living together with Spencer. When they had Stella, and then me soon after.
There were years of laughter and conversation. No raised voice. No cold silences.
And then Dad left, and took Spencer with him.
I worshipped my brother. And he never treated me like an annoying little sister, like the princes often did with Lyra. He would read me stories, take me to the park, and talk to me like I was one of his friends. He always included me.
Having your family torn apart at ten years old is hard enough, but when you lose your favourite person in the world along with your father, it’s almost unbearable.
I dealt with it better than Stella. She got angry and bitter. I kept up the hope that someday Mom and Dad could be happy again. Maybe not together, but I wanted them both to smile again someday. I kept the hope that Dad was happy in his life, even though he wasn’t with us.
And with Spencer, I refused to give up on him. I wrote him letters. Sent him pictures of the two of us. I did the same for my father, only I was never able to send them.
Stella blamed our father, for picking the royal family over us, but even at a young age, I somehow understood it wasn’t only his fault.
I was hurt, but I managed the anger better than Stella did.
“What about your parents?” I ask Ashton.
“They reside in the same hemisphere sometimes. Sometimes not,” Ashton says lightly. He does a good job of hiding how he feels about that, but I hear the scratch of pain underneath. “My father is very busy, and my mother has her committees, and both are content.”
“That’s not happy.”
“How many happy adults do you know?” he asks. “Yes, I know that technically I am an adult, but my frontal lobe only fused together a couple of years ago, and I don’t feel very adult-like.”
I don’t know what to say about Ashton’s less than stellar home life. He’s a billionaire. What kind of normal home would he have? Homes? He must have more than one home.
He’s mentioned houses and hemispheres, and that’s unbelievable to me.
But here I am, living in a castle. Anything is possible.
By the light of Ashton’s phone, we see ice on the walls. It’s a dry cold, the kind that seeps through the soles of your shoes and works its way up. Even with the extra sweater, I’m chilled through, and the tips of my fingers are like tiny ice cubes.
But finally we make it to the old cells.
“This is where we used to play Truth or Dare,” I say, stopping in front of the last cell.
“Who all played Truth or Dare? And how old were you?” Ashton wants to know. I see a gleam in his eyes.
“Young, so it’s not like what you’re thinking about.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking about?”
“I was ten,” I remind him. “I shouldn’t have even been playing.”
“Oh, come on. I’m sure it was harmless.”
“It was.” Am I reassuring him or myself? “Secrets, gossip about our parents. First kisses.”
Ashton rubs his hands together. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Who was your first kiss?”
The only thing good about the flush that rises in my cheeks is that it provides some warmth. “It wasn’t a kiss like you’re thinking about.”
“And what kind of kiss am I thinking about?”
I glance up to find Ashton studying my lips. “It wasn’t… it was sweet,” I protest.
“And I can’t think about sweet kisses?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Maybe. Who was it that gave you your first sweet kiss?”
“I was ten.”
“He could have kissed your cheek. That would still be sweet. So, spill it. Which one of the handsome Prince Charmings gave you your first kiss?”
“Bo,” I admit, even as I chastise myself for saying anything.
“Was he your favourite? Did you have a crush on him?”
I had a crush on all four of the princes at one time or another. I’m sure most of the girls in Battle Harbour shared the same infatuation. They were handsome. They were our version of Prince Charming come to life.
Each time one of the boys appeared in People’s Magazine Sexiest Man of the year edition, the copies would sell out in Battle Harbour. And yes, because this took place during the blip in my friendship with Lyra, I did pull out the pages to hang them on my wall.
Thinking about that is embarrassing now that Stella is with Prince Gunnar.
“No comment,” I say, grateful that I manage not to tell Ashton any of what’s going through my head. I’m more of a say what’s on my mind than a keeping secrets gal, especially when I have someone like Ashton asking questions about my life.
“Ah, come on. It was Bo. Sophie and Bo,” he sings.
Ashton is not a good singer, and the realization makes me laugh. “Bo is happily married, so it doesn’t make much difference.”
“But it did back then. What else did you do down here?” He wraps his hands around the bars, but lets go with a hiss because of how cold they are.
“We’d bring books and comics. Odin brought down all these blankets and old pillows so it was warmer and kind of comfortable.”
“As comfortable as hanging out in a dungeon can be.”
“Exactly.”
It was the last time in my life that I felt safe and sure of who loved me. I had Spencer and my father, and the protection of the royal family. It was as if I was wrapped in a cozy blanket of everyone who cared about me.
I was happy then.
I was always happy at the castle.
Maybe that’s why being back here makes me smile more.