Chapter 11
ADDISON
The next time I pass the chessboard, it has a new note waiting for me.
I spot the folded paper tucked beneath the board. My pace quickens because during yesterday’s painting session, he was weird and distant. I’m hoping he’ll explain. I unfold the paper and trace my finger across his handwriting.
You’re on my mind.
It’s four words that shouldn’t make my stomach flip, but here we are. I pull a pen from my bag, already thinking about my response. It should be something flirty, but not too much. I need to match his energy without revealing he’s tattooed on mine.
“A handful of princesses are arriving before dinner,” a high-pitched voice echoes down the corridor.
I freeze with the pen hovering over the paper.
Two women in staff uniforms pass the intersecting hallway, their arms full of fresh linens. They don’t notice me standing in the nook. I let out a breath because I don’t want anyone to see me here. I’m aware how gossip spreads around in places like this.
“The north wing is absolute chaos,” the second one says. “Fresh flowers in every room, and he was forced to write each one a personalized note. Tonight, the queen has instructed us to use the finest china for dinner.”
“Wow. I guess the prince is serious about settling down. At thirty-six, he should.”
“We’ll know in two weeks. Can you imagine all those women fighting for his attention? Survival of the brattiest.”
Their voices fade as they turn the corner, but I’m stuck to the floor.
Princesses, probably all drop-dead gorgeous, will arrive today to fight for his hand in marriage.
I feel physically ill, blindsided by this. He only has two weeks to make his decision.
I look down at the paper in my hand and read those four words again.
You’re on my mind.
Yesterday, in the conservatory, he was distant and distracted.
He intently watched me while I painted him and never once mentioned what was happening.
I think about Sunday night, when he cooked me dinner and unbuttoned my dress and made me feel like what we had meant something.
Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I was his last little hurrah before he settled down.
“Of course,” I whisper. “I almost fell for a fuckboy.”
The pen in my hand feels heavy. I was two seconds away from flirting, but instead, I write something entirely different. This isn’t a game.
This ends now.
I reset the board piece by piece, placing each one in its starting position until it looks like nothing happened.
When I tuck my note beneath his king, my hands are steady even though I’m shaking on the inside.
I should channel this frustration into my work and prove I came here for the art, not the crown prince with the sad eyes and secret loft.
That afternoon, I find myself walking toward the trail that twists toward the north wing of the palace.
The circular drive and courtyard are utter chaos.
Black cars with small diplomatic flags are lined up in a procession while staff in pristine uniforms rush between them, directing traffic and collecting luggage.
I stay hidden behind trees, watching Prince Louis greet them individually.
He’s smiling, but it’s his fake one that doesn’t meet his eyes.
One luxury car door opens after another. The women who emerge are tall and beautiful. They move with grace that only comes from a lifetime of royal lessons. Their clothes are expensive, and their smiles are polished. He’d look incredible standing next to any of them.
A blonde in a cream pantsuit steps out, pulling Louis into a hug, where she slides his hand down lower onto her back.
Behind her, a gorgeous brunette with perfect posture pauses to smooth her skirt before gliding toward him.
I see her nibble on his ear, and it makes him blush.
A redhead laughs at something her assistant said, and the sound carries across the courtyard like wind chimes.
At a glance, he looks excited. When the women walk away, I can tell he’s over it.
Seven women disappear inside the palace. I wait for jealousy or rage or heartbreak to hit me. Instead, I feel drained, like I’ve been swimming against a current that would always take me under.
At least I tried. These women were raised to be queens. I was raised to be difficult.
I should go home.
It’s the first time I’ve felt that way since I arrived. On the way back, I slide into the gardens because the alternative is staring at Louis’s half-finished portrait. The roses are blooming along the southern wall, and I walk the gravel paths without direction, needing to clear my mind.
“Addison?”
I turn to find Delphine walking toward me in a neon-orange sundress that makes her look like bottled sunshine. She falls into step beside me and loops her arm through mine like we’ve been friends for years.
“I thought that was you. What are you doing out here?”
I tilt my head at her. “What are you doing out here? There’s guilt written on your face.”
She pulls her hand from behind her back and shows me a bottle of tequila. “Want some?”
I lift a brow. “You are a bad little princess.”
She shrugs and moves the bottle to her lips. “I assume you’ve seen the circus,” she says, chugging it, then passing it to me.
“Hard to miss.” I take a swig and immediately start coughing.
“Shit. You’re going to be so drunk,” she whispers, snickering.
I roll my eyes and hand it back to her. “Good. I need to calm down.”
She takes my other hand and leads me farther down the path as we drink. Eventually, we end up on a bench that overlooks a cliff. I close my eyes, taking in the sea salt air and smiling.
“Thanks. I needed this.”
“Me too,” she says. “Sometimes, I come out here to escape life.”
I meet her eyes. “Is it really that bad?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s heaven on earth here. It’s not easy being the spare.”
Calm takes over me. “I know what it’s like to live in my brothers’ shadows. Don’t know how I survived having two.”
“I don’t either. Louis is more than enough. Guess it could be worse.”
We keep drinking until we’re both tipsy. The warm breeze brushes against my cheeks, and it feels freeing.
“So, that’s really happening? Louis is getting married?”
She nods. “I’m still holding out hope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For the two of you.”
I shake my head and laugh. “That’s absolutely not happening.”
“Really?” She lifts her brow. “I’ve been watching you sneak around. It’s been quite entertaining. Better than reality television.”
My mouth falls open. “You haven’t.”
“When you’re together, you’re both oblivious. But going forward, now that the princesses are on the premises, you’ll need to be a lot more careful.”
“I ended it,” I whisper.
“No, you haven’t,” she says, shaking her head. “Louis won’t give you up.”
“He has to.”
She shrugs. “Things aren’t always as they seem. My brother is more cunning than he lets on. He has a very special talent for always getting what he wants, rules be damned. He’ll find a way, Addy.”
It’s encouragement I didn’t know I needed. “I’m here to paint. That’s all.”
“Of course you are.” She lets out a long breath. “I can help you, but you have to win the contest legitimately. Do you know what you’re painting?” She studies me.
“Your brother,” I mutter.
She nods. “That’s the royal who will win this for you. Give it your all. Win. After that, the pieces will fall into place.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, studying her, noticing how similar the two of them are. They have the same blue eyes and smile. “You shouldn’t be helping me.”
“I like you a lot. But it’s for my personal benefit as well. It’s important that I stay in the good graces with the future queen of Montclaire,” she says, squeezing my hand.
“That’s ridiculous. I could never—”
“It’s not. You are the one for Louis. His true match. I knew the moment I saw you together at the gallery. He’s never looked at anyone else that way.”
“I don’t know how you can be so sure. We barely spoke.”
“How can you not be sure? You look at him the same. You both have stars in your eyes anytime the other is close. It’s a powerful connection.
” She stands and curtsies to me. “Anyway, I have to go. Win the contest, Addison. Everything is riding on that. If you don’t, this ends in two weeks.
Paint like you’re trying to win my brother from these skanks. ”
When I laugh, I feel something spark in my chest. It’s hope.
Before she goes, she gives me a tight hug. “Everything will work out. I have a sixth sense for these things.”
She strolls down the path, and I watch her until she disappears.
I turn back to the sea, watching the sunrays glitter across the water, allowing my mind to wander.
When I’m fully relaxed, feeling like gelatin without a worry in the world, I walk back to the cottage.
It takes me twice as long because I’m drunk.
When I return to my home away from home, I look at Louis’s half-finished face staring at me from the canvas. I throw a sheet over the easel because I can’t look at him right now. I’m frustrated, but also, I understand.
An hour later, I’ve given up pretending that I’ll be productive today.
I take a hot shower, and when I get out, I slide on a soft, oversized T-shirt that hangs to my mid-thigh, which I’ve worn as a nightgown for years.
My hair is loose and messy because I didn’t want to wash it.
Tonight, I’ll watch a terrible Steven Seagal movie and question my life choices. It’s a comfort habit.
I curl up on the couch with my laptop and choose something full of explosions out of sequence, and car chases for absolutely no reason. The booze has mellowed me out, and I let myself sink into the cushions with a bag of chips, a can of peanuts, and some pretzels.
Outside the window, the sun drops toward the horizon in shades of orange and pink. Somewhere in the palace, Louis is sitting through a welcome dinner, surrounded by women who were born with golden spoons in their mouths.