Chapter Three
Sophaya
Water laps gently against the sides of the gondola.
Music plays softly from hidden speakers as the gondolier guides the boat beneath an old stone bridge.
Buildings rise up on either side, the stucco-covered walls painted in shades of dark red, dusty yellow and deep orange, with the occasional pale pink or faded blue.
Moss clings to the limestone foundations, while flowers drip from ornate balconies overhead.
It’s magical. A romantic atmosphere most couples would bask in.
But not me. I bite back a sigh. Romantic evenings and dreamy dances with masked men are off-limits to a princess who will become queen next year. An inheritance shoved upon me with no discussion.
I sink back against the velvet cushion as much as I can without touching my massive bodyguard. I had a choice. I could have refused, let some distant cousin take the crown. But unlike my father, and apparently my brother, I understand duty. Commitment. Values my grandparents instilled in me.
Grief stirs, but I squelch it. Now is not the time for revisiting the past. I don’t want to inherit. I hate that my life was turned upside down. But I’m not going to shy away from the difficulties my new role has caused.
Including Dominic Hawke.
My chest tightens. I knew the man was built. But observing his muscled body from a distance and sitting right next to him in the intimate confines of a gondola are two very different things.
Especially after those moments back at the palazzo.
When he first interrupted my dance, I wanted to scream.
Yes, I knew I’d been taking a risk going to an event hosted by my bodyguard’s half brother.
But I honestly expected Dominic to show up for the first hour or so and then disappear.
He doesn’t strike me as a party kind of guy.
With over two hundred people present, and all of them wearing masks, I’d assumed I could slip in after the event was well under way, enjoy half an hour of anonymity at my first masquerade and then retreat to my hotel.
But when Dominic took me in his arms, my mind blanked.
His palm had burned like fire against my naked skin, the press of his fingertips claiming me as his own as he’d chased off my nameless suitor.
Unlike the light steps of my first partner, Dominic had dominated, taking control of the dance with a prowess that had left me quietly furious and incredibly aroused.
I glance at Dominic out of the corner of my eye. His mask is simple, a swath of black across his eyes and the broad bridge of his nose. The night creates shadows in the hollows beneath his cheekbones. His dark beard is trimmed closely to the chiseled edge of his jaw, the prominent chin.
I slowly focus on the dark waters of the canal in front of us. Yes, the man is one of the most handsome I’ve ever laid eyes on. And yes, I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Especially after having his muscular arms around me on the dance floor.
But he’s my bodyguard. And I have no desire to follow in my family’s footsteps and engage in a meaningless fling. My parents have each had their share of affairs. My older brother left a string of broken hearts in his wake, along with other self-indulgent vices like drinking and gambling.
Charles never seemed to desire power. Rather it seemed like he used his indulgences to run away from a duty I don’t think he ever wanted in the first place.
My parents were prepared to look the other way when he wrapped his car around a tree last fall after he drank one too many cocktails at dinner.
The accident occurred on palace property. Easy to cover up.
But I think it was the last straw for Charles. I woke up the next morning to the first text I’d received from him in over a year.
I’m sorry.
I texted. I called. He never answered. He left the palace after formally signing his abdication. Last I knew he was somewhere in the United States. I hope he’s better. But I also mentally prepare myself on a regular basis for him ending up in jail or worse.
Guilt creeps in as I glance up at a passing balcony.
The delicate twines and twists of metal remind me of black lace.
I remember Charles when he was younger, remember him as kind and attentive.
He spent quite a bit of time with tutors, but we still played together.
It wasn’t until my grandparents passed and my parents started to drum his impending inheritance into his head that he withdrew. Changed.
I took his withdrawal personally. I didn’t reach out, didn’t push, because I didn’t want to be rejected by yet another family member after my parents had essentially ignored me for most of my life.
With my grandparents gone and my brother locked into his role of heir, I was left to my own devices unless my face was needed for a picture.
The possibility that things might have been different will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.
Logically, though, I know I couldn’t have done much, if anything, to stop Charles from making his poor choices.
Especially when he had my parents as his primary examples.
I at least had my grandparents, who showed me more love and grace than I imagine my parents showed my brother.
Mother and Father were better than Charles at concealing their affairs, but their public personas as King and Queen of Siravelle are a far cry from the self-absorbed ruler and bitter consort I get to see.
I will not make their mistakes. Not only do I not want to be like them, but the entire country is now focused on me. Not just Siravelle, but most of Europe and even the United States. Attention I’m not used to.
A shiver traces down my spine despite the warmth of the evening and the heat emanating off the body of the man next to me.
Hiring a specialized bodyguard was not my first choice.
But despite how much I detest Dominic Hawke’s high-handed manner and arrogance, his presence is reassuring.
Not something I’d ever admit to, but the threatening letters I’ve been receiving ever since New Year’s have unsettled me.
I look up toward a series of arched windows trimmed in white.
When the first anonymous letter came just after the New Year, I assumed the flowery phrases were from someone with an innocent crush.
But then the second letter came, followed by half a dozen more over the next few months.
The letters grew increasingly aggressive, angry.
My parents initially dismissed it as part of public life. My security team added two more members to my detail and tried to track down the letters, but they only hit dead ends.
Then came April. A letter was left on my chair at a restaurant in downtown Villeluz, along with a crushed red rose. The letter included details like where my quarters were located in the palace, and a vow that if we couldn’t be together now, the writer would make sure we could be together forever.
The nightmares started that night. I didn’t tell anyone, but even my self-centered parents noticed I was struggling.
Dominic arrived at the palace two days later. I asked why they didn’t just hire more bodyguards or reassign some members from palace security to my team. My mother had sniffed and said our team had failed so far to keep me safe.
“Besides,” she’d added, “it wouldn’t be a good look for Siravelle if we let our crown princess get hurt while on her European tour.”
Because how things look has always been the most important thing to her.
Her and my father. Perhaps, if they had been actual parents instead of just playing the role, I could have told them about waking up in the night, heart pounding and sweat cooling on my back as I frantically looked around my room for a phantom with no face.
My fingers curl into the voluminous fabric of my dress.
It was a nightmare that drove me out tonight.
I did lie down early. But I must have only been asleep five minutes or so when I woke up, my heart in my throat as my breath came out in sharp, quick gasps.
I don’t know how long I tossed and turned.
Finally, sick of my own mind taunting me, tired of the additional restrictions on my life, I decided to have an adventure.
Too bad it lasted all of twenty minutes before my brute of a bodyguard had to ruin my taste of freedom.
And now he’s taking me back. I still have the herbal supplements Claude gave me that are supposed to help me sleep.
But the thought of lying down again, of trying to achieve some sense of calm as the dark presses in, sends a cool shiver whispering over my skin.
“What’s wrong?”
I ignore the flare of heat as his gravelly voice rolls across my skin and keep my gaze trained on the passing buildings. “Just looking.”
“I told you not to lie to me, Princess.”
I grit my teeth. Princesses, especially ones who are set to inherit the throne, are not supposed to display negative emotions.
But right now, I’d love nothing more than to roll my eyes or stick out my tongue.
No one knows about the nightmares, the panic attacks.
I’ve already had so much of my life yanked out into public view. I’m allowed one or two secrets.
“I’m permitted to have my own thoughts, Mr. Hawke.”
Silence falls between us. The music playing through the gondola’s speakers shifts from a lighthearted tune to a nostalgic melody.
“You handled yourself well with Maryanne.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. I hate what happened to her, especially after I overhead part of Maryanne’s boyfriend’s hushed confession to Dominic.
But it was so nice getting to use my training, to be more than a ceremonial ornament or a photo prop.
“Thank you. I noticed you have a soft side, Mr. Hawke.”
He chuckles. Deep and husky. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard him genuinely laugh. The sound chases away the cold and sinks low into my body. “Not an adjective most would use to describe me.”