Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ARCHER
The wind feels more biting than usual as I pull the balcony doors shut behind us.
I don’t exactly want to talk to the woman who left me high and dry on the day we were supposed to announce our engagement, but something tells me talking this out is the only way forward out of this mess.
And I would much rather talk to Princess Kya than the King of Drenland.
I sigh. Then steel myself before I turn around.
“I’m sorry,” she says first. Round, apologetic brown eyes look up towards me. Kya is distinctly taller than Ella, and it’s almost disconcerting to have my supposed ex-fiancée appear so close to my face. I take a step back as far as the limited balcony space allows me to.
“I suppose I should be relieved that you are,” I say, all business.
“I really, really did not mean to cause such a mess.”
I take in her features. For a girl born to the world of titles and honors, she has an almost girl-next-door type of face. There’s less of Ella’s kind glow about her, but there’s not a lot of aristocratic hauteur going on either. In another universe, we might have been friends.
I clear my throat. “I believe the people in the room behind us are probably even sorrier.”
“Please let me be very clear. Whatever it is my uncle wants, what my father wants—that’s not what I want.” There’s something urgent about the way she talks, like she’s worried I won’t believe her.
Maybe she should be worried.
I shrug. “You were willing enough to go along with it.”
“Well, so were you. But that doesn’t mean you still are.”
I let her words simmer for a moment. I tuck my hands behind me. “I don’t think you are in the position to speak for me.”
“No.” She sighs, looking both angry and defeated at the same time. “But I can speak for myself.”
“Is the idea of marrying me truly so repulsive?”
“It’s not that—”
“You could have left a message. You could have asked to talk to me.” I spin fully towards her, noticing for the first time the injured pride within me that Kya’s desertion had left behind.
Ella, with her infinite gentleness, has managed to put a balm on the wound.
But that doesn’t mean the original pain never existed.
Kya winces. “I guess I could have handled matters better.”
I wait a moment. “We all could have, I suppose,” I concede.
“It didn’t occur to me at first—the magnitude of what they wanted us to do.” Her brows knit together. “But by the time my dress came and the ring came, reality set in like a rock. You, as a man, have so much more say in the matter. But as a princess who has no say whatsoever—”
“I didn’t think I had much of a choice, to be honest,” I respond, frowning too. “An heir is sometimes a pretty restrictive job.”
“But at least you have some agency.”
I consider the statement. Do I? Do I really have any agency in all this?
Ella’s face jumps to my mind. Ella’s smile. Ella’s genuine concern and adorable curiosity. Ella’s eyes across an airport cafeteria. Ella’s kisses in the cellars of Langford Castle.
Kya might be the princess trained from birth for a royal role, with the proper pedigree for a future queen.
But I’m not going to become the best king of Northandria one day by marrying the person with the best resumé for a queen consort.
I can only be the best king of Northandria one day by marrying the person who makes me the best man I can be.
And I’m not about to find that person in an arranged marriage to the niece of a neighboring king.
“I think you were braver than I was,” I say softly.
Kya smiles for the first time today. It’s kind, and sweet, and sisterly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I nod. The wind is getting chillier, but I’m too relieved to mind it. I consider the full implication of my words before I say them. “Maybe someday, you’ll meet your own prince. Someone you actually want to marry.”
She huffs, as if equally relieved. Then she says, “Or maybe I don’t need a prince.”
I think about it. “No, I suppose not. I don’t think anyone really needs a prince these days.”
“Doesn’t stop most girls from wanting one.”
I chuckle a little obligingly. But I guess that was the one thing that was always special about Ella. I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve ever met without being known as ‘the prince.’ It’s somehow extremely special that Ella is one of them.
“Do you want one?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“What? A prince?”
“Yes. Not need one—but want one. Because I know a few.”
Kya laughs. “I don’t know if I deserve one.”
The odd word choice confuses me. She of all people should know that royals are just ordinary people born into extraordinary circumstances. There’s nothing meritocratic about this. In fact, hereditary monarchy is probably the least meritocratic system there is on the planet.
But she smiles and turns around as if she’s about to leave the balcony. “But hey, what really matters is that Ella wants one.”
I think of Eds laying on his charm with Ella, and my stomach twists. “Not just anyone, I hope.”
Kya laughs. “You do like her.”
I do. I do very much.
“Thank you,” I say, “for being brave enough for the both of us.”
Kya’s smile looks sincere. “You’re welcome.”