4. Chapter 4
Michaela
M y first steps beyond the entryway felt damp and cold.
Fitz wouldn’t make me do something dangerous, would he?
I’d never been a fan of spiders. I kept the beam of light on the ground in front of me to avoid seeing anything that might steal my courage. From the dank smell of the tunnel, I felt positive it hadn’t been used in years, maybe decades. Instinct kept my breathing short and shallow. With my luck, I was going to open the other side and stumble into the middle of some summit meeting, or release a deadly ancient virus on the world, or worse—anger his mother.
She’d never been a huge fan of mine as far as I could tell. Despite how much she loved all things American, something about me didn’t qualify for the adoration she gave to the rest of the old Red, White, and Blue. Fitz had told me for years about his mother’s different obsessions, from reality TV to monster truck rallies, to even Las Vegas and its showy lifestyle. She had nothing but warmth for the whole lot of it. But when it came to me, she was as cold as the snowy mountains surrounding Nolcovia.
Speaking of cold, while my room was downright balmy because of the fireplace, the tunnel had my teeth chattering, reminding me that it was definitely winter in the frosty country. The floor slanted upward. My apprehension mounted as the tunnel came to an abrupt stop. Shining my flashlight on the wall, I noted an ancient latch and a rectangular shape of what could pass for a door. While the walls were made of stone, the space in front of me was constructed of wood. Clenching my teeth, I locked my grip on the latch and said a silent prayer that I wasn’t about to start an international incident.
Though if I did, it wouldn’t surprise me.
The knocking sound of the latch sliding back echoed off the walls of the tunnel but with hardly a push from the tips of my fingers, the panel swung forward. Light flooded the darkness around me. I squinted and stepped through the opening. Blinking, I waited for my eyes to adjust to my new surroundings.
Deep hunter-green walls accented with gold trimmings greeted me. I quirked a grin because it was another aspect of his love of frogs and had always been his favorite color. A massive bed took up most of the far side of the room with a door that led to what looked like an enormous bathroom. I couldn’t even imagine his closet. Most of us wanted a walk-in. Did Fitz own a live-in closet? Sized for a family of three to live comfortably?
As I moved clear of the doorway, it struck me that I’d only assumed the bedroom belonged to Fitz. It was just as possible that I was wandering in some random fella’s bedroom. I stopped and turned back, facing the opening I’d come through. What if it was the king’s bedroom?
Visions of Alice in Wonderland popped into my head. With a country as old as Nolcovia, was the guillotine still in play? My hands immediately went to my neck.
Footsteps clacked against the wood floor in the next room. Driven, full of purpose, and headed straight for me. I scurried to the opening, suddenly realizing that the rectangular door was actually a painting on a hinge. If I could get inside, then I would pull it shut, sprint down the tunnel and no one would ever have to know I was creeping around in the king’s bedroom.
“Excuse me.” The voice stopped me mid-step. “Might I ask how you found your way in here? This is highly irregular and rather bold, maybe even impetuous, but if you can explain your presence then I do think it might be possible to—“
I spun so fast my hair whipped across my face, temporarily blinding me for a moment. But that didn’t matter. I knew his voice. Yes, it was deeper. It didn’t crack with every other word anymore. His accent had only deepened, but there was no way in the world I could ever mistake his voice. And if he was here, then everything would be okay.
“Fitz?” I waited with suspended breath. Did he recognize me? Would it all be as it was, or had too many years passed?
His eyes narrowed but quickly registered as they locked onto my face. A crooked grin tipped his cheeks, the same grin that had gotten me through some of the hardest times of my life. With a short laugh, he took the steps between us in huge strides, never pausing once before he threw his arms around me and pulled me into his tight embrace. Warmth from his frame had nothing on the glow in my heart. It had been years since we’d been together, but our bond didn’t understand time. It reached beyond the rules of the rest of the world and connected us in ways I’d never connected to another soul. My fingers locked into his jacket, clutching him like the treasure he’d always been for me. His face turned into my hair, close enough that his whisper tickled my ear. “Coco, how I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Tears filled my eyes. The product of too many emotions I couldn’t understand. “I never knew how much until now.”
He laughed and pulled me tighter. “Likewise. In fact, I may never let you go again.”
“That may make this whole competition a little awkward, don’t you think?”
A deep groan rattled in his chest. “Don’t remind me.” He released his grip enough to push back and survey my face. “I have to apologize. Reginald didn’t tell me he’d found you yet. I simply did not recognize you. Not until you spoke my name.” His hand shifted to touch my jaw, but quickly dropped. “You really grew up.”
“Happens to the best of us.” I cupped his ears between my palms. “You finally grew into these. I bet no one teases you about taking flight anymore.”
His head tilted to the left as he considered his words. “Here in Nolcovia, not many mock the Crown Prince.” His smile spread wide. “At least not to my face.”
The title brought me back to the reality of the moment. We weren’t kids anymore, and he wasn’t a foreign exchange student I was showing around for fun. He was next in line for his country’s throne, and I was there to help him find a wife.
“So, tell me,” I stepped away from his embrace and crossed my arms around my waist, “what are my duties as your royal wingman? What have I gotten myself into?”
Fitz drew in a slow breath and released it twice as slowly. “It started last year. I told you in my letters that my father had fallen ill. His condition has stumped doctors all over the world and only worsens by the day. Because of the way the laws are written and because he’s a traditionalist, if the time comes that I’m supposed to rule in his place,” Fitz sighed again, “I will forfeit my birthright because I’m not married.”
That felt insane to me. In this day and age, there was no point in having a clause like that. Marriage needed to be entered into with forethought and planning, not because it was a requirement of the law.
“If I don’t take the crown, it passes to my uncle who has no intention of ruling. From there, the options get worse. A cousin who is more playboy than prince and so forth down the line. The legacy my family has constructed over the years will be lost and I fear the country will fall to ruin, people forgotten, and heritage abandoned.” He curved a palm around the back of his neck. “So, you see my predicament and my concern that my desperation will lead to bad decisions.” His arm dropped to his side before he brushed his palm over his vest. “I’m still the hopeless romantic I always was.”
We had a standing movie night on Fridays. Since my single mom never dated, she was always home and the three of us watched countless rom-coms during his year on exchange. Without fail, Fitz always teared up when the guy got the girl. I was happy to see that hadn’t changed.
Fitz met my eyes, conviction strong. “Many have urged me to pick anyone and make the best of it. If it ends in divorce, then so be it, but my heart refuses to accept that fate. I want love, Coco. I hope you can help me find it.”
I thought of the women I’d briefly met. Were any of them worthy of someone as priceless as Fitz? I doubted it, but if that’s what he wanted, then I would do my best.
“I met some of them.” I walked through the doorway into the adjacent room. Large windows let in streams of light that bathed the sitting area in sunshine. “Lady Esmerey is something else. A bit snooty, though I guess when you’re that pretty, you probably learn to get away with it. “
“Esme is my father’s choice. She’s the best political move in his eyes. The only problem is, I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than five minutes.” Fitz crossed the room and slumped onto the couch. “I hear that makes marriage more difficult.”
I shrugged. “Depends on how much time you have to put between those five-minute increments.”
Fitz leveled his glare like he was sending it to the raven-haired snob. “A week at minimum.” He shook his head. “Who else did you meet?”
“Esmerey had a friend, though they acted like it was a secret. She’s tall, with sandy-blonde hair and—“
“Lilith Seagrave,” Fitz filled in for me. “Noble blood way back. One of my mother’s choices on her pedigree alone. I think she feels like it would quell some of the fighting in parliament if I married her. I’ll admit she’s less toxic than Esme, but when I look into her eyes, I don’t feel like there’s anything there.” He frowned. “She’s an empty vessel.”
“Is that the royally polite way of calling her an airhead?” I couldn’t help but tease him a little to lighten the mood.
“I think airhead would be nicer.” He drew in a breath and met my stare. “Tell me there were others or I might call this whole thing off.”
“I didn’t meet them all. Though I met Reginald. Nice guy. Hates me. But nice guy.” When Fitz’s brow furrowed with concern, I explained. “You said to go through the gate, but I was at the wrong one and it was closed, but I thought you meant—“
“The Detwellers’ pool.” He made the connection right away. “You tried to squeeze through one of the gates?”
“And good ol’ Reg caught me. Great first impression.” I waved off any attempts to make me feel better. “I was late, so I missed a lot of introductions.” I held up a finger. “I do know Dagny took off into the garden, and Blair went after her.”
Fitz nodded slowly. “Blair was one of my choices. Daughter of our chauffeur. And Dagny is a… friend of the family.“ He sounded less than impressed with both of them. “Anyone else?”
I thought of the saucy supermodel Gwendolyn had mentioned and the romantic history she shared with Fitz. Bracing myself, I breached the subject. “There was a really hot chick.”
Fitz perked up. “I like the sound of that.”
“Kinda sassy. She likes making jokes.”
“A woman who appreciates humor. That’s a plus.”
Instead of preparing him for the truth, I was gearing him up for something amazing. Thus far, I made a terrible wingman.
“One of the other girls said she was possibly,” I couldn’t beat around the bush any longer, “an ex of yours.”
The smile on his face sank like an anvil. “Perfect face? Amazing body?” His features tightened. “Responds to ‘Heartless Witch’?”
“Sounds like her,” I agreed. “I swear, I thought her face was a filter. I didn’t know people could look that flawless in person.”
“If you could see her soul, you’d have a different opinion.” He shifted on the couch and draped his arm across the back. “Her name is Chantal Libelle. We dated for a year. Everyone thought she would be the next queen, but the second I started playing with the idea of abdication, she no longer found me interesting .“ His jaw tensed at the memory. “However, she found a few others within the crowd absolutely irresistible.”
“You thought about abdicating the crown?” I probably should have stayed on the part about Chantal, since he’d never mentioned her in his letters, but I couldn’t ignore what he’d said.
“It was before my father fell ill. That was still a reality I could entertain because none of this was real yet. I thought I wouldn’t have to take the throne until I turned fifty. It felt liberating to consider a life where I wasn’t ruled by my obligations.”
That was an aspect of his world I hadn’t considered. Sure, I played royalty sometimes, but I could slip back into a normal life for the majority of my time. Fitz never had that option.
“You said your parents both had a say in the participants, but who did you invite?” If I was supposed to help him choose the right woman, it seemed imperative that I understand what he was looking for and seeing his ideal picks would give light to the matter.
His eyes drifted to the left as he considered the question. “First was Gwen. We were chums through college and she’s of a decent pedigree and beautiful, of course.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Pedigree? Are you looking for a wife or a schnauzer, Fitz?”
As if caught, his gaze locked on mine, surprised but amused. “A wife, but when marrying into royalty, the entirety of the family tree must be considered.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Gwendolyn is fun and vivacious. I never know what to expect from her.” I waited for some wisp of attraction in his expression, but it never came. “She would make a worthy queen.”
“Oh,” I pressed my palm against my chest, “excuse me while I swoon, Your Highness.”
Fitz grasped a pillow and lobbed it at my head. “Such disrespect.” Anyone else, I would have worried, but Fitz loved our give-and-take. “If you’re done mocking me—“
“I’m never done mocking you,” I quipped back.
“As I was saying,” he rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat again, “I also invited Blair, whom you met. She’s shy but nurturing. We’ve talked extensively before about her world views and I find her… intriguing.” He held up a finger to stop me before I started again. “And, I also invited Dagny.” He sighed. “She’s more like a cousin at this point. No attraction there. Quirky, keeps me on my toes, but,” he leaned forward, bracing his arms against his knees, “have you heard her laugh?” His lip curled upward. “It’s positively ghastly.”
I laughed easily. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, really?” He tilted forward even more as if disclosing a secret. “Consider an animal whose laugh is a hyena’s call mixed with a banshee’s scream and combine those with overtones of nails on a chalkboard, and even that creature would have a better laugh than hers.” His description left me giggling which brought a smile back to his otherwise frustrated face. “For the record, it’s nothing like yours. Perhaps you could train her. Yours is pure music.” He paused to listen as if appreciating the symphony. “I’m not sure I can endure a lifetime of Dagny’s screeching laughter without locking myself in a tower or removing my ears.”
I pouted my lip out. “And you’ve only just grown into them.”
Another pillow soared between us as retribution for my words. “I’ll have you know, Michaela Caldwell, I am greatly respected and revered in my country.” He chucked another pillow at me and reached for a fourth, though his laughter had greatly impaired his aim. “You’ll do well to remember that.”
I caught the last pillow and peered over the top. “It’s weird when you call me Michaela.”
“As it’s equally off-putting to hear you call me Leonidas,” his head tipped to the side a bit as he reflected, “and I’ve never heard you call me Prince Fitzborough.”
“I should probably start.” I set the pillow aside. “Reginald’s head nearly imploded when I called you Fitz. Actually,” I sat and mimicked his position, “I don’t know how to treat you in public. I’m guessing being this informal is frowned on.”
“Yes,” reluctance stained his tone. “Certain protocols must be maintained in public, unfortunately, but we can meet here when necessary to discuss your thoughts on the competitors.”
I rose to my feet. “Help a girl out, would ya? Show me these protocols so I don’t make a fool of myself.” I frowned as I thought about the gate. “Or at least not any more than I have.”
Fitz stood and straightened his shoulders. For the first time, I found myself looking at him as a man, not the boy I once knew. He wore a grey three-piece suit, tailored to perfection, with a thin black tie that brought out the darkness in his brown eyes. Though I assumed he typically shaved, a few days’ worth of stubble shadowed his strong jaw. When we were young, his hair was rarely combed, let alone styled, but as an adult, he looked immaculate, gelled, styled, handsome in ways that didn’t compute for me.
He was… Fitz, but not.
“First of all,” he inclined his head with a smirk firmly in place, “you must know how to curtsy.”
“No bowing?” I winked and found joy in his slight blush.
“Not for a lady.” He looked me over, smirk deepening. “Which I understand is a foreign phrase to an American like you.”
My scoff only increased his amusement. “For the record, I can curtsy just fine, thank you.” To show him, I tucked my left leg behind my right, dropped my head forward, and sank into the curtsy I used when I was playing princess.
“Lower,” Fitz advised.
I bent my knee more, dropping another inch, but even that wasn’t enough.
“Lower,” he commanded again, and my thighs started to burn. “Come on, Coco, this is for royalty, not a tea party. Show some respect.”
Despite the wildfire burning through my legs and rear, I dropped another inch until I felt like I might end up on the floor. “I have to do this every time I see you? I don’t think—“ I looked up at his face, hand covering his mouth in an effort to smother his laughter.
He was messing with me!
“Fitz, you rogue!” I tried to rise up to teach him a lesson, but my leg cramped and I squawked as I tipped haphazardly to the side. Moments before I crashed to the floor, strong arms wrapped around my waist and prevented my fall.
I took two deep breaths while still at the mercy of his strength. Yet another aspect of his life that had changed. No longer the gangly teenager, his strength supported my weight with no effort at all.
“Leg cramp,” I whispered.
“Clearly.” Fitz made no move to right me to standing. Instead, his eyes wandered around my face, mapping the parts of me that had changed. With deliberate speed, his hand shifted along my back, supporting me between my shoulder blades. “Is it improving?” A flicker of a grin interrupted the concerned expression pinned on his face. “Your first curtsy was more than adequate. I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself for a bit of fun.”
“Well, your royal Fitz-ness,” I moved to stand, but he made no effort to help me, “I’m glad I don’t have to go into a full lunge every time I see you.”
“On that topic,” his mouth pinned shut for a moment as he planned his words carefully, “when we are in public, you should address me as Your Royal Highness, Prince Leonidas, or in informal situations, Your Highness. Though I can’t begin to imagine how strange that will be for both of us.”
Shifting once more, he pulled me back to my feet and stepped away to allow me a moment to right my sweater. A strange feeling tickled over my skin. Something I wasn’t accustomed to, unnerved, but not in a bad way.
“Why not practice? I’ll enter the room and you greet me.”
I wanted to roll my eyes because it felt stupid. How hard was it to curtsy and say hello? But since he was the prince, I figured I needed to take it seriously. Fitz returned to his bedroom and pulled the double doors shut. I drew in a deep breath to get my mind in the moment and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Oh my gosh, Fitz. Are you taking a nap first or something?” Internally, I berated myself. Pretty sure snapping at the Crown Prince was on the list of no-nos.
“I’m the prince, Coco. I enter when I feel like entering.“ The closed doors muffled his voice. “It wouldn’t be very accurate if I immediately showed up according to your whims, would it?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda high maintenance?” I teased.
“Royalty can’t be high maintenance. It’s merely part of the job.” He cleared his throat. “Now get ready. I’m coming.”
I crossed my arms and cocked my hip to the side, emulating every impatient mother’s best look. Before I could whine again, the double doors spread wide with an over-the-top flourish. Fitz entered, head high, shoulders squared, complete with an air of importance that had me debating between swooning or laughing. Instead, I settled on staring.
Seeing my faux pas, his shoulders slumped. “This is the part where you curtsy. When royalty enters the hall, all heads bow.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you feel weird with everyone looking at their shoes?”
“Actually, it’s quite lovely.” Fitz stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I could be picking my nose and no would ever know.”
“Gross.” I changed the subject. “And how do I know to stand up again? Do you give an all clear or an olly olly oxen free?”
Fitz eyed me with the faintest annoyance. “You know you take the fun out of being royalty.”
“I’m so sorry I’m making it hard for you to revel in being so much better than everyone.“ I left the sarcasm thick to make sure he understood.
“I’ll get over it.” He winked. “After all, I’m the prince.”
“You’re incorrigible.” I sank into a curtsy and stayed there. “Do I count to one hundred?”
“It depends.” He had to know my legs were still sore, but he took his time. “If we are in a great hall setting, you stand once all the royals have taken their seats. If I am greeting you individually, I’ll call by your name to bring you to your feet.”
“Well, don’t rush or anything. My legs love prolonged curtsy squats…”
“I forgot how much you whine.” He laughed lightly before he sobered. “Coco, rise.”
I looked up at him without standing. “I don’t think you can call me that in public.”
“Right.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “After you stand,” he waited for me to stand, “I’ll take your hand, place a kiss on your knuckles, and you’ll say thank you and then use one of the correct titles to address me.”
“Every single time?” I blew out my breath. “Don’t you find this exhausting?”
“Not incredibly, but it’s been this way my whole life.” His eyebrows rose. “Would you like to practice?”
“I guess we could but—“
A knock at the door behind me cut off the rest of my sentence. “Prince Leonidas, the delegation is here and ready for you. Shall I help you dress?”
Reginald. The last thing I needed was for him to see me in Fitz’s bedroom.
“Uh, no, thank you. I’m dressed.” The door started to rattle, and Fitz spoke faster to stop him. “Or I will be shortly. Give me a moment.” His hands pushed me toward the tunnel entrance, hurrying me to make my exit.
“I get how this looks, but surely they know I’m not here to try to win a crown or seduce you or anything.”
Fitz pulled the painting back and urged me inside. “All they understand is the crown, Coco. And you are a threat to that.” He didn’t elaborate. Gripping the frame, he issued one more word of caution. “Don’t let anyone know about this tunnel or let on too much about our friendship. To the rest of the competition, you’re the dark horse.” His tone softened. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re here. I mean it. I need you, Coco.”
His words touched my heart. Our friendship was bigger than curtsies and protocol. As crazy as it all was when I thought about it, I knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be than helping him.
“I’ll see you tonight.” With a sneaky smile, I added, “Your Royal Highness.”
Fitz
I held the painting closed over the entrance until Coco had a chance to latch it. The tunnels had been put in by my great-grandfather, but they were a highly guarded secret of the royal family. I could get anywhere on the palace grounds by using them, but they were meant as a method of escape. Though, I felt confident that my great-grandfather might have approved of sneaking a girl into my room as well.
Her final words rattled around my brain. ‘Your Royal Highness.’ Never once had it sounded so sweet, but I couldn’t pinpoint the difference. I’d heard it since I was a child, but something about Coco’s voice made it new.
Was it the fact that she’d finally acknowledged my birthright? Or was my pride bolstered, knowing that she, an American, was bowing to me? Maybe it was simply the sweet voice of a beautiful woman that got under my skin.
She’d certainly grown up in our time apart. While she teased me about my ears, Coco had finally grown into her oversized eyes. When we were kids, I thought she looked like a lemur, perpetually wide-eyed, but as a woman… I found myself staring into the depths of her crystal-blue pools more than once.
I caught myself and righted my thinking. Michaela was here to help me find a wife, and if I could be derailed by a couple of moments with her, I was likely to be sent flying off the tracks into a heap when I met the rest of the women. I had twenty-five to meet in a few hours and I had to send ten home on first impressions alone. I didn’t have time for fanciful daydreams. Reginald knocked again, a true reminder of pressing duties. I moved toward my chamber door.
When it came down to it, my relationship with Michaela was deeper than anything I would ever find in the parlor later. We’d been in contact for well over a decade, even if we weren’t face-to-face any of it. She’d grown into a beautiful woman, there was no denying that, but she couldn’t be the queen. Boundaries would have to dictate the nature of our relationship. No romance. Only friendship.
I set my grip to the doorknob and drew in a breath, preparing myself. Reginald would enter and I needed to put these foolish thoughts away. I wasn’t a boy anymore. Duties awaited me. Fantasies from my youth were for a life that would never be mine.