Chapter 31 #2
I carry my bourbon back to my bedroom, letting the music wash over me. I take a long drink and let the bourbon burn its way down.
The song changes to “In Bloom,” and I’m halfway through my second glass when a chime cuts through the music. I almost don’t hear it.
I’m off the couch so fast that I nearly trip over the coffee table. The phone screen glows in the dim study, the Apple logo fading into a home screen, cluttered with apps I haven’t thought about in over a decade. The battery shows four percent, but it’s alive.
“You beautiful piece of outdated technology.” My hands shake as I pick it up.
There’s no SIM card, which means no calls and no texts, but there’s Wi-Fi, and the palace network automatically connects because IT has never bothered to change the password. I could kiss whoever made that decision.
Five years ago, after a particularly close call with a stalker who’d gotten past palace security, Dyson and I sat on his balcony overlooking Central Park and discussed worst-case scenarios.
He asked me what I’d do if things ever got bad enough that I needed to disappear.
I laughed it off, told him I was a prince, not a spy. But he was serious.
“If you ever need out,” he told me, “just send me a word, like now, and I’ll have a plane sent for you. No questions asked.”
I called him paranoid, and he said I was naive. We finished the bottle of scotch and never spoke of it again.
My battery drops to three percent as I open the Email app and type Dyson’s address from memory.
Now.
I hit Send and watch the loading circle spin on the shitty screen.
The email disappears from my outbox, and I exhale. Dyson will know exactly what it means and come to my aid without hesitation. It’s a Banks thing—when they make promises, they keep them.
The battery drops to two percent even though it’s plugged in, and the screen flickers, then turns off.
I shove it back to the bottom of my drawer, then take several gulps of bourbon, knowing I need to figure out how I’ll get to the airport.
I lie back on the couch and close my eyes, which are heavy.
By the time I wake up, the sun has shifted from that early morning gold to harsh afternoon white.
I actually feel rested, even though my arms hurt from where the guards held me back.
I spend the next few hours packing a duffel bag, tossing in my wallet and passport.
I change into jeans and a T-shirt and grab a hoodie, knowing that when I get to New York, I’ll need to blend in.
The room gets darker, and food is delivered to me. Before the server walks away, Tatiana steps inside. Every muscle in my body goes rigid. She’s wearing a silk robe over a nightgown. Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders. She closes the door quickly behind her.
“Get out.”
“Louis—”
“Now.” My voice is barely controlled. “You did this. You and my mother planned the whole thing. I trusted you, and you fucking played me. And now you’re here to, what? Gloat? Watch me suffer?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
A laugh rips out of my throat. “You destroyed my life.”
“Shut up and listen because we don’t have much time.”
She moves deeper into the room, putting distance between herself and the door. Her hands tremble, which I’ve never seen happen. Just like me, she’s been trained for high-stress situations, but right now, her composure is cracking. Her eyes keep glancing at the door.
“You have thirty seconds,” I say. “Talk.”
“There’s a dinner planned three nights from now. Friday evening. The council will be there, along with foreign dignitaries and press from every major outlet in Europe.” She keeps her voice low. “You’ll be expected to formally announce our engagement.”
“I’m not announcing anything.”
“You will. Are you aware she has a look-alike for you?”
I stare at Tatiana. “What?”
“A stand-in. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“She’s prepared to do what’s needed, Louis. I’ve met him. It’s really fucking eerie.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you lying?”
“No. Tonight, we were at a dinner together. Me and him. Everyone thought it was you. The only problem is, he’s American, and he sounds nothing like you. So, I’m forced to tell everyone you lost your voice from the excitement.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the look-alike is my limit. I’m smart enough to know when I’ve lost.” She gives me a slow clap. “Congratulations, Your Highness. You win. Very well played by you and your girlfriend.”
I smirk, loving the way that sounds. “Thank you.”
“So, now what?” I ask. “Aren’t you going to tell my mother everything we discussed? Setting me up for another trap?”
“Not this time.” She moves toward the door and pauses. “I’m going to tell her that you and I had a lovely chat, that you’ve calmed down, and you’re considering your options.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you deserve to be happy.” Her voice softens. “I’ve been engaged twice, politically convenient matches, and not once has anyone looked at me the way you looked at Addison. That means something.”
“Tatiana—”
“I don’t want to marry someone who’s in love with another woman.
If there was no one else, fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m twenty-eight years old.
Far from an old maid. I’m beautiful, I’m intelligent, and I’m perfectly suited to be a queen.
I deserve better than a husband who’s thinking about someone else every time we’re together.
“If you’re planning to go after her”—she looks me up and down—“do it before that dinner because once the engagement is announced, even with a fake you, the world will believe it.” She opens the door. “Good luck, Louis. You’re going to need it. Your mother is brutal.”
Tatiana knocks on the door, then opens it, and I see Davis in the hallway, guarding my door. Before it closes, I push my foot forward, leaving it cracked. His posture is rigid, his eyes forward, and he won’t look at me.
“Davis,” I whisper.
His head stays forward. “Your Highness, please close the door.”
“I need your help.”
“I can’t, Your Highness.”
I push the door open another inch and drop my voice so only he can hear. “I need to get off the grounds tonight. You know the security rotations because you’ve been part of them for weeks. You know the blind spots and when the shifts change and which guards pay attention and which ones don’t.”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “They’ll arrest me for treason.”
“Then come with me.” I grip the door handle. “I’ll need protection, and you’re the only person in this palace I trust right now after being thrown to the ground and essentially arrested earlier.”
“Your Highness—”
“I know what I’m asking and what it could cost you. Your career, your pension, your future here. Everything you’ve worked for.” I hold his gaze even though he won’t meet mine. “I’m asking anyway because you’re the only person who might actually help me.”
“My loyalty is to the Crown, Your Highness.” His voice is flat, rehearsed, like he’s reciting something he’s been told to say.
“I’m the Crown, Davis. Not my mother, not the council.
Me.” I keep my voice low and steady. “I’m the future king of this country, and in three days, I’m going to be forced into an engagement announcement with a fucking look-alike standing in my place while the woman I love thinks I’ve abandoned her.
You’ve shadowed me for weeks, and you’ve seen everything.
Is that the Crown you want to be loyal to?
One that uses body doubles and imprisons me for falling in love? ”
His jaw tightens. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
I chuckle. “You’re not wrong.”
The silence stretches between us. The clock at the end of the hallway ticks. Boots against marble echo in the distance.
“But know that, otherwise, this is how it ends for me. I will be locked in this room while someone else lives my life. It’s death by a thousand cuts, Davis.
” My voice cracks, and I let it because I need him to hear how much this costs me.
“Either I get out of here tonight and fight for the woman I love, or I spend the rest of my life trapped, resenting every person who helped cage me.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and his nostrils flare. After a second, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His shoulders are rigid, and his hands are still curled into fists.
“I’m not asking as your prince, and I’m not ordering you.” I exhale. “I’m asking as someone who has lost it all. I have to do the right thing.”
His hands uncurl, and his posture shifts.
“Please, Davis.” I’ve never had to beg for anything in my life. “Help me get back to her. A private jet will be waiting for me at the airport. It won’t leave without me.”
I’m almost certain I’ve lost him. I’m already running through other options in my head, already trying to figure out who else could help.
“You owe me, Your Highness,” he says.
“Fuck yes, I do,” I tell him.
“There’s a service tunnel under the east wing that comes out near the old groundskeeper’s cottage, past the main security perimeter.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “The cameras don’t cover that section because it’s technically outside the palace grounds.”
My fingers tighten on the doorframe because I’m aware of the tunnel, I’ve just never accessed it.
“Shift change is at two in the morning, and there’s a short window when the guards switch positions, and no one watches the east corridor.” He straightens his posture and fixes his gaze forward again, every inch the professional guard. “We’ll have to be quick.”
“You’re the best,” I say.
“You should know I’m terrified,” he tells me, even though his voice is perfectly steady. “But I’ve spent the entire summer watching you risk everything for Addison.” He swallows. “I’d rather risk treason than spend the rest of my career wondering what would have happened had I helped you.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Your Highness. This could be a disaster.” He exhales. “Please get some rest. We have a long night ahead of us.”
I close the door and glance at the clock. There are seven hours until the shift change.