Before the train has even left the station, I know I’m doing the right thing. I can’t remember the last time I had this sensation of…relief. Everything with William has been difficult from day one. I realize there are fewer than two months left in the agreement I’ve made with my father, but I don’t care. I’m done playing this charade. I’m finished with lying to myself that things could have ever worked between William and me.

Carter sits across from me in the private double compartment. I don’t generally take trains—something about the movement usually makes me ill—so having the privacy of a separate space is welcome.

“It’s been too long, Justine.” He smiles at me, leaning back in his seat and resting his hands behind his head. “We graduated and you just disappeared.”

I lift a brow. “I didn’t exactly disappear. I had a lot of work to do in Rosvalia.”

“For two years?” He shakes his head. “You send an email to the group once in a while, but you have to admit you’ve drifted away.”

“I haven’t drifted—”

“That pageant thing with Prince Andrew?” He clucks his tongue. “If you’d have sent a single email, we could have talked you out of that fiasco.” He leans forward, propping his elbows on his lap as he leans toward me. “And if we could have prevented that fiasco, we probably could have prevented this one, too.”

“My marriage is not a…fiasco.” Even as I say the words, I know they don’t ring true. Marrying William has been nothing but a fiasco from day one. But maybe if I had been less of a bitch to him at the start, we wouldn’t find ourselves in the situation we do now.

And perhaps if he had asked me to marry him instead of telling me of our impending nuptials, we would have started out on a different note.

“Is that why you didn’t invite anyone from school?” He levels his gaze at me. “Because you knew we would have talked you out of it?”

I frown. There’s really nothing I can say. Carter and my few other close friends from college weren’t invited because I didn’t want to make a spectacle of myself at my wedding. The fewer people who attended, the better. And maybe there was a small part of me that knew if anyone who knew me in my real life were in attendance, I never would have gone through with it.

He returns my frown, waiting for me to respond.

“I suppose that’s part of it. Not the only part, though. I’ve already told you—there were few people in attendance. It wasn’t a large wedding. It wasn’t even a small wedding—by royal standards, it was practically a non-event.”

He nods. “It’s the practically part that’s concerning.” He leans back again. “We would have come. We all would have.”

“I know. That’s why I couldn’t invite you. It wasn’t personal. But I knew you’d disapprove.”

He lifts a brow. “Of him? Or you marrying him?”

I shrug. “Probably a bit of both.”

He rubs his chin, nodding. “Yeah. I can see that. I will say Emily was pissed. I’m not sure she’s going to be happy to see you. Something about her only chance to attend a royal wedding or some bullshit thing like that.” He chuckles. “Of course, according to Professor Camden, it was my dirty… What did he call them? Paws?” He laughs. “Yeah, my dirty paws that were going to soil the princess’s reputation.” He rolls his eyes. “I guess he never though about his own dirty paws.” He pauses for a moment. “He had no clue at all, did he?”

“I was very young. And very stupid. That is my only excuse.” I wish I could laugh about it, but the pain from that time still sits in my chest, rearing its ugliness all too often. “Very stupid.”

“Well, you won’t hear me disagreeing, at least as far as your thing with Professor Camden is concerned.” He looks at me for a long moment. “You still haven’t let it go, have you?”

“How does one let something like that go?” I stare back at him. “Not that I would expect you to understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” He lets out a long breath. “But what I do understand is that it happened two years ago. And you’ve clearly moved on with your life.”

I roll my eyes. “Clearly.”

He nods. “Does he know? Your husband?”

I turn my head slowly from side to side. “No. And he never will.”

Carter is silent for a long time. He finally sighs. “Justine, I’m not saying you have to tell him. That’s your call. But I think if it were me… If my wife had something like that in her past, I think I’d want to know.”

“What difference would it make?” Tears well in my eyes. “It isn’t as though it changes anything. It…” I shake my head, trying to push back the emotions that still seem to come flooding back at the most inopportune times. “It wouldn’t make a difference. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I don’t disagree. It doesn’t make a difference—not really. But it still clearly affects you. You’re still angry about it. You’re still…” He waves a hand at me. “You’re still hurting from it.” He shrugs. “And if I was married—if my wife had something like that in her past that was still clearly upsetting her—I’m just saying I would want to know.”

“Trust me, William does not want to know.” I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. At least it isn’t my husband I’m crying in front of. Carter has seen me through the worst of things and has been my most supportive friend through everything. I’m not sure why I pushed him away when I moved back to Rosvalia. Probably because of the way it looked to outsiders, having a male friend as close as Carter. No one seems to truly believe that a man and woman can be friends and nothing more. And I suppose if there was one shred of attraction between Carter and me, we would be together. But as it is, he’s been the type of brother I always wished I had. James had been upset about our friendship, too.

I don’t know how to make people understand that I care deeply for Carter, but that it has nothing to do with attraction or sex.

And I’d hoped William would be mature enough to understand that, as well. As it turns out, he’s even worse than James. At least James never punched Carter.

He stares at me for a long time, but I turn my gaze to the window, refusing to respond to him. Even if things ever did work out between William and me, my past—my darkest secret—isn’t something I want to share with him, nor do I feel I owe him any knowledge of the things that happened to me before I met him.

“You know,” he interrupts my thoughts. “It’s a long trip to Berlin. They said it’ll be almost six hours before we’re there.”

I nod, still staring out the window.

“I think I’m going to take a nap. And maybe you should, too.”

It’s the first logical thing I’ve heard in months. I turn back to face him, giving him nothing more than a nod as I settle down to lie onto my bench. As I drift off to sleep for the first time in days, I think of William. William, and how no matter what I do, I can’t seem to find any amount of perspective when it comes to that man.