Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
The Beige Prince… Boogies?
By Penelope Pemberley-Price for The Ledonian Gazette
Who was caught on camera dancing under the stars last night in the quaint mountain town of Monteluce? None other than Prince Frederic and his beautiful princess. Who would have thought?
It would seem Astrid has done exactly what we wanted of her. She’s managed to breathe much needed life into the monarchy, turning our beige prince from a marble statue into nothing short of a disco diva.
There he was, our famously frost-bitten heir, twirling his fiancée as though he’d been personally choreographed by Cupid himself. And not the stiff, ceremonial swaying we’ve come to expect at state balls, either. No. This was joyful. Unscripted. Dare I say… fun.
Witnesses report laughter. Actual laughter.
Who could have imagined?
Wager this: If Monteluce is any indication, the monarchy is no longer merely enduring.
It’s dancing.
Frederic
I don’t know what time it is when I finally wake, the sheets in a tangled mess at the foot of the bed. Pale light seeps through the edges of the curtains, telling me it’s early morning.
My body feels impossibly heavy, as though a stone has pinned me in place. Every muscle is drained, wrung out. I blink into the dimness, my jaw tightening as the events of the night before rush back with merciless clarity.
I fought my feelings last night, feelings that have been building day by day, minute by minute. Feelings for the woman who has somehow worked her way into my life. Into my thoughts. Into my everything.
Last night was magnificent. There is no other word for it. The way she coaxed me onto the dance floor. The way she made me forget the crowd, the cameras, the weight of being watched. She called it letting loose. I had no idea I was capable of such a thing.
I have never danced like that before. Not once. Dancing, to me, has always been formal. Proper. Structured. Something done at balls, under chandeliers, according to rules written long before I was born.
And yet with Astrid, I moved without thinking. I laughed.
I could do that every day, I realize with a jolt, but only with her.
She is it. She is the answer. The missing piece in my jigsaw.
Why am I fighting this? Why am I fighting her? She’s all the things I’m not. She’s impetuous and emotional. She makes everything feel like an adventure. She’s smart and witty and fun and so, so beautiful.
Because if I am honest, what I feel for her feels like I’m falling in love.
My eyes squeeze shut as my heart begins to pound.
Am I falling in love with Astrid?
The question barely has time to form before the answer arrives, unmistakable and absolute.
Of course I am.
How could I not be?
She’s light where I am shadow. Freedom where I’m duty. I would challenge any man not to fall in love with her.
And the most unsettling thought of all? She chose me.
Despite my rigidity and my reserve. Despite every wall I have so carefully built to keep the world at bay, to protect myself.
Somehow, she found her way through them anyway, and she’s worked her way right into my heart.
I’m falling for my fiancée.
A smile creeps across my face, and I can feel it all the way down to my toes. I am falling in love with Astrid more and more every day, and she’s drawing out a version of me I didn’t even know existed.
And what did I do last night after that spectacular kiss? I ran. I let all the reasons not to be with her get the better of me.
But now I know beyond a whisper of a doubt I want to be with her.
I need her to know.
I throw the covers aside, pull on a dressing gown, and open the door of my bedroom.
The windows and French doors stand bare, curtains undrawn, and beyond them the sun is beginning to peak over the mountain tops.
I come to a stop outside her door. I lift my hand, then hesitate. It’s still early. She’s probably asleep. I shouldn’t wake her. Even though I’m burning to share how I feel about her, I shouldn’t impose myself on her space after the way I left things last night.
But I’ve had enough of making excuses. I’ve had enough of hiding. I can push open the door. If she’s asleep, I will leave. But if she’s already awake, then perhaps she might be open to hearing what I didn’t have the courage to say last night.
The truth.
My fingers tighten around the handle, and quietly, so as not to wake her, I ease the door open.
For a moment, my mind refuses to make sense of what I’m seeing.
The bed is empty. The curtains are open and the pale morning light fills the room.
Astrid isn’t here.
A thousand explanations flicker through my mind. An early morning walk. Fresh air. Time to herself. But even as I come up with the possibilities, a tightness begins to build in my chest.
I cross the room in long, purposeful strides and pull open the wardrobe.
Empty. Nothing but hangers.
My pulse quickens. I push into the en-suite bathroom. Everything is pristine, exactly as it should be, no toiletries scattered across the counter.
The tightness in my chest sharpens.
It’s then that I see it, sitting on the bed. A note, and beside it, the ring.
My ring.
The family heirloom she has worn since the day I proposed, crouched on the living room floor, just wanting to get it over with. That ring may have started out as the symbol that once represented the union of two countries, but it has come to mean so much more than that.
It represented us, our union. Man and woman. Me and Astrid.
I snatch up the note, my fingers trembling as I unfold it.
Fred,
I wanted you to be my future, with all my heart. Last night on the balcony, I realized that no matter what I do, your heart will remain hidden behind a wall I’m not strong enough to climb.
I know exactly what this costs, what my leaving means for the schools and hospitals back home in Elkevik. It feels like I’m trading my country’s survival for my own, and the weight of that is almost more than I can bear.
But I cannot live as a PR solution to help you avoid a referendum.
I’m sorry I wasn't the solution you were looking for.
I will never forget you. But now, I think we have to say goodbye.
Asti
The truth crashes into me like a blow to the solar plexus, sucking the air from my lungs.
She’s gone. She’s really gone.
I fist the ring in my hand, a rush of emotion surging through me. Anger, frustration, desperation, all tangled together so tightly I can barely breathe.
Why did this happen? Why did she leave?
A voice in the back of my head tells me what I already know.
It’s because of me. Me and my stupid walls, those walls I thought I needed to keep myself safe.
Me and my ludicrous notion that I had to keep her at arms’ length, that I couldn’t allow myself to be vulnerable with her for fear of…
of what? For fear of falling in love with her?
Fear of feeling something real with an incredible woman, a woman who’s worth ten times me?
She stood in front of me day after day, offering herself honestly, openly, showing me that she was here for me. And what did I do? I pushed her away at every turn. I hid behind restraint and protocol. I made myself untouchable. Totally off-limits.
And now, I’ve lost her.
No. This can’t be happening.
I won’t let it.
Cold panic grips me and I storm out of the room. I grab a few things from my suitcase, and yank open the door to the suite.
I rush to Tommaso’s door and thud against it with my fist. “Tommaso! Wake up! Tommaso!”
The door opens and a bleary-eyed Tommaso peers out. The instant he sees me, he straightens, his professionalism taking over. “What is it, sir? How can I help?”
“Astrid,” I say. “She’s gone.”
The words cut through me like a knife.
“Gone?” he questions.
“She’s taken her things and left and I need to find her. I must find her.”
“Is the Princess in trouble?” Tommaso asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply, because the truth is, I don’t. All I know is that she isn’t here.
“May I ask if something happened between you and the princess, sir?” he asks carefully.
I swallow, my throat tightening. I don’t know how to answer him. How do I explain the extent of my own stupidity? That I pushed away an extraordinary woman after we shared the most intense and meaningful kiss of my life?
“I need to find her,” I say instead.
“Of course, sir. Give me a moment to dress. I suggest you do the same. There’s press hanging about.”
I glance down at my pajamas. “Yes. Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.”
I stride down the corridor, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Once inside my room, I pull on clothes and drag a comb through my hair before returning to Tommaso’s door.
He’s already there, phone pressed to his ear, speaking quietly.
“With the security detail,” he says, lowering it slightly as I approach.
“Any news?” I hold my breath.
“The princess is at the train station, sir. Paolo, one of your security detail, escorted her and her lady’s maid there an hour ago.”
My chest tightens. “And Paolo didn’t question it?”
“He did question her, but she insisted. She said she was returning to Villadorata.”
I make a mental note to speak to Paolo later. Right now, I have far more urgent matters to attend to.
Moments later, Tommaso and I are in one of the State vehicles, the engine humming as we pull away. He drives swiftly through the quiet streets of Monteluce, the town just waking up, as we head for the train station.
My mind drifts back to our time together last night. Our kiss was incredible, just as I knew it would be, but even more so, the way we talked. I’m rarely vulnerable with anyone, least of all someone I’ve only recently come to know, and yet she drew my feelings out of me with grace and warmth.
I’d wanted to kiss her for so long. I knew what it was like to feel her lips against mine, to know the softness of her skin, to breathe in her scent. Last night I felt I could lose myself completely with her. That I could be fully me with her.
I had been so close to telling her how I felt. But that kiss undid me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. It struck at something deep and unguarded, and the force of it shocked me to my core.
That was why I pulled away.
I’m not proud about it.
I ran, like a coward, only the worst sort of coward because I was running from both her and myself. I was overwhelmed. One thought kept circling through my mind: I barely know this woman.
I don’t know who Astrid truly is. Not yet. But my heart seems to know what my mind is still trying to catch up with.
She’s good, she’s kind, and her heart is open. She wants more from me than a diplomatic arrangement. I see the truth of it in the way she looks at me. It’s written in her eyes. It’s written in her kiss.
Today, I awoke with such clarity, the clarity I was too afraid of to show her last night. I want to give myself over to her, to let her be the one in charge of my heart.
And now I’ve messed it all up.
I let out a frustrated groan.
Tommaso’s gaze flicks to mine in alarm. “Are you all right, sir?”
“We need to get there. How much further?”
“Almost there, sir.”
He turns the car into the train station and I shove the car door open and leap out even before Tommaso has brought the vehicle to a full stop. I take the steps two at a time and burst into the small railway station, my gaze sweeping frantically from side to side.
There are only two platforms.
The first is empty.
The second has a train.
Hope surges through my chest as I sprint across the concourse, weaving past a handful of startled passengers.
I reach the platform just as the train pulls away, the wheels whirring.
“Stop the train!” I shout. “Stop the train!”
“We can’t stop it,” a guard in a blue uniform says firmly, moving to block me. “If you’ve missed it, you’ve missed it. You can catch the next one.”
I turn on him at this. “Where is it going?”
He blinks. “What do you mean, where is it going?”
Then recognition flickers across his face and his jaw slackens. “Are you the prince?”
“Is the train going to Villadorata?”
The guard looks totally confused. “Yes, Villadorata. But surely you… don’t you have a royal train?”
“Yes,” I say in reply, already turning away. “Thank you.” I bolt from the platform to find Tommaso just inside the station vestibule.
“We need to go to Villadorata,” I tell him. “Now.”