When someone knocked on Tess' bedroom door the next day, she didn't even bother to say anything. Instead, she waited, listened as they knocked again, and then watched as a servant girl pushed open the door and left a silver tray, laden with food and tea, on her dresser.

Though the girl glanced at her, something in Tess' expression must have told her not to say a word, and when she slipped from the room, Tess listened as her footfalls faded into silence.

She wouldn't touch the food--just like she hadn't gone near the one they'd left for breakfast and lunch. Still, the smell of roast beef and potatoes consumed her, and she twisted in her bed, trying to force herself to fall back asleep.

Antone had not come to visit. He hadn't asked why she never came to his quarters for bed the night before, and--if she had to guess--she thought he wouldn't be stopping by to ask about tonight either. No, he was probably pacing his study, too full of political strategies to bother thinking about her or the fight they'd had. Of what this would mean for their relationship.

But that was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Hadn't this always been the plan? That he would have his life and she would have her own? That they would be partners in raising their child, but in no other capacity?

And wasn't that what she'd told him? Hadn't she said she didn't want him to come, didn't want him to ask after her--that she would let him know when he was wanted.

She swallowed hard, picking up her phone to flick through the articles that had already been published about the wedding. As far as she could tell, her gown and demeanor had been well-received, though a few journalists still speculated about her barely-there baby bump, and even if still more of those journalists printed her wedding photo alongside a picture of her sitting with Laurence Halpern in that restaurant all those years ago, it was always alongside a mention of how far she had come.

Tess sucked in her cheeks and flicked to yet another article when her phone began to buzz in her hand. She jumped, glancing down at the name, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over her when her mother's face flashed on the screen.

She'd gotten pregnant, gotten married, and left the country, and still had not said a word to her family about it. In the grand scheme of sisters and children, she was pretty close to the bottom in terms of responsibility and consideration.

Still, she doubted anything her mother had to say would make her feel any worse than she already felt. Not now.

Taking a deep breath, she thumbed the green "answer" button and her mother's taut, supernaturally clear face filled the screen. In the corner, Tess could see herself, her hair frizzed and tiny, purple bags under her eyes, and she straightened, trying to assume a position that didn't give away her utter misery.

"Tess, sweetie," Her mother sing-singed and Tess tried not to betray her confusion.

"Hi, mom."

"Guess who's with me." Her mother tilted her camera and regret hit her like a punch to the stomach as her perfectly coiffed sister came into view.

Lydia waved, grinning just as broadly as her mother. "Hi, Tess! We thought you'd never call."

"Well, technically, I didn't," she started, but, thinking that might not be the best tactic, she changed the subject. "So, um, how are you all?"

"Us? We're the same as ever. You are the one who has all the news."

Heat rose in Tess' cheeks. Here it came. The stiff smiles would stay in place, but there was no doubt the speech was coming--the disappointment, the chastising.

"Right. I guess you guys heard about...everything," she finished lamely.

"Heard? It's everywhere. You're America's Cinderella." Her mother chirped and Lydia nodded behind her.

"Right," Tess said, her heart still in her throat.

"I don't understand why you would keep this all secret from us, though," her mother said.

Lydia shrugged. "I think it's romantic. I have to say, when I called you that day and you asked about the prince, I never dreamed..." She laughed. "Well, I guess it was meant to be, huh?"

Tess blinked. "So...you guys aren't mad?"

Her mother tried to frown, but her perfectly taut skin fought against it. "Why would we be? I mean, I would have liked to see you married, but there's no doubt you married well. I mean I never would have dreamed..." She shook her head.

"And the stuff about the baby bump? Did...did you see all of that?"

This time it was Lydia's turn to frown. "I did. People can be so ugly. I mean, you've always had a little pooch, you know, but--"

"It's true. I'm...Antone and I are pregnant." The words came out in a rush and Tess' mother clapped a hand over her mouth. A moment later, Lydia mimicked her.

"Look, I know you're disappointed in me and it wasn't supposed to go this way, but--"

"How far along are you?" Lydia said, finding her voice.

"Two months," Tess said, and her mother and sister looked at each other for a moment before they both burst into laughter.

"What's so funny? Am I missing something?" Tess asked.

"No, no, I mean...It's just so perfect. You just say the baby was premature, that's all," her mother said.

Lydia nodded. "Public sympathy for you will skyrocket. People love to support people in crisis. And if you're not actually in crisis? Well," Lydia shrugged. "So much the better."

"But..." Tess choked.

"I should really be thanking you. All this press has helped me tremendously, and then once people find out you're going to have a little prince or princess?" Lydia beamed.

"A prince or princess!" This time their mother practically shrieked. "Wait until I tell your father. Depending on how this next election goes, this whole thing could put him in the running for Secretary of State."

Tess blinked. Was it possible she'd heard them right? They weren't disappointed or mad or...anything?

"That would be great," she said, but her words sounded hollow, even to herself. Not that Lydia or her mother noticed. They were too busy squealing over their good fortune.

She wondered, vaguely, if she should be upset by this. If their opportunistic attitude should have annoyed her. If she should be disappointed that her mother had not asked about her pregnant child's health or, god forbid, asked what her child's new spouse was like.

Maybe it should have, but the truth of the matter was that it didn't. Not really.

When she clicked off the phone, she didn't even feel relieved that her family wasn't upset with her. She felt...nothing. Hollow.

Was that what politics were? Not caring about family so long as it furthered your agenda? Antone had consigned Ellaria to a marriage she didn't want for the sake of politics, hadn't he?

But that was Ellaria's choice. She'd said as much.

And Antone...well, he'd left his duties to be with her that day with the doctor. He'd even made sure the press wouldn't ruin their wedding day for her. He'd championed her in spite of all the damage she could have done to his career.

Sinking deeper into her bed, she pulled a sheet tight over herself, thinking of how different this bed felt compared with Antone's. Missing, in spite of everything, the warmth and security of his body beside hers.

Whatever happened next, however all this turned out, there was no way of turning back the tide. She would never have a child who wore overalls and drew on the walls. There would be no informal play dates or peanut butter sandwiches.

But, just like the call from her family, she couldn't bring herself to care much about all of that, either.

All she wanted was to be in a different bed, to think of raising her son or daughter not just alongside their father, but with him. Because she loved this baby.

And she loved Antone, too.

Gritting her teeth, she opened her phone back up to the last article she'd read and clicked on the journalist's name. She couldn't change the past, but she could change the way she handled the future, and she was going to do it in a way that made Antone realize just how serious she was about wanting to be a part of his life.

* * *

The door thudded on the far side of Antone's office, and though he didn't look up, he knew Luca was standing there, waiting for permission to speak.

Antone pinching his nose between two fingers, closed his eyes to block out the rush of emails that had swamped his computer all morning. Even now he couldn't recall what any of them had said. Details and questions, legislation and requests, but try as he might, none of the words could break through the fog of his brain.

And, as if that weren't bad enough, every five minutes he would find himself drifting toward one page of the internet or other, clicking through pictures of his wedding and thinking of Tess. A few times he had even come close to searching her name in his web browser.

Another soft thud sounded and Antone said, "Well? Are you going to say something?"

"The princess Tess still has not eaten," Luca said and Antone let out a deep breath through his nose.

What was she thinking? Not eating? Was she trying to force him to send someone to force feed her?

Antone nodded, but when Luca didn't move, the prince finally looked up at his closest friend. The other man, usually so cool and impassive, had one faint line of worry knotted over his brow.

"Something else?" Antone asked.

Luca gave him a curt nod. "The prince of Tripole will be here in two weeks' time, it has been confirmed."

"And Ellaria is throwing a fit?" Antone guessed.

Luca pursed his lips. "She's prepared to take on her duties."

Antone nodded. "Okay, thank you."

Luca still didn't move.

"Really? You have something else to share with me?" Antone asked and Luca gave another singular nod.

"The coronation had been set," Luca said. "The princess Regianna has accepted the role of sole organizer, but she has requested the addresses of the future queen's family so that we might arrange for them to attend the ceremony."

"Of course," Antone said. "Of course. Thank you, Luca. Tell my sister...I'll handle it."

Luca nodded again and closed the door behind him, and when Antone was sure he was alone again, he considered his options. It was possible, he knew, to go see Tess--to tell her to eat and to ask her for her family's information, but after everything that had happened at the wedding, everything she'd said...

How could he? How could he ever look at her again without feeling like he was her warden--the anchor that was holding her back from everything she'd ever wanted?

Still, he had to do something. So, with slow, careful fingers, he typed her father's name into the search engine and opened the first few results.

The first was his government page--detailing where he could be found and how he could be contacted along with a brief summary of his service to the state of New York. This was all Antone really needed, he knew, but still he found himself clicking over to the next search result--an interview with an American fashion magazine that had featured Tess' mother.

In big, bold letters, broken away from the rest of the article, there was a solitary quote: "We are so proud of both our girls and we are privileged to have raised two young women that America can be proud of. It speaks, I think, to the family values my husband and I have always held so dear."

Antone frowned, then scanned the article, flitting over paragraphs describing Tess' upper-class upbringing and her mother's declarations that she had raised America's newest and best Cinderella story, until he found a section that made him stop in his tracks. Beside the paragraph, there was a picture of a young girl who--based on her dour expression and wild mane of unruly curls--had to be his wife. She was glowering at the camera while her father stood at a podium in front of her, her mother and sister sitting upright, grinning and looking dutiful. Beside this photo was another--one he had been avoiding looking for. A picture of Tess, clearly a few years younger than she was now, sitting across from a man with salt and pepper hair, smiling as he held her hand.

Gritting his teeth, Antone read the words encircling the images.

"There is no doubt that Tess Strickland's story is one that little girls everywhere are watching--but even with her fairytale romance and marriage to a young, eligible prince, does that negate her sordid and--at times--scandalous past?

After all, it was less than a decade ago that Tess Strickland's name was not associated with pride, but rather with subversion of those same values her family claims to hold so dear. Her affair with a married college professor--and subsequent dismissal from North Hampton College--was the subject of political uproar the nation over, and in the years prior to the scandal that rocked the political dynasty she had been born into, she was none-too-shy about her feelings toward the country's political landscape.

'Just once I'd like to go out with my friends without becoming the poster child for one thing or another,' New York Magazine quoted her as saying in 2010. 'Don't I deserve the chance to have a normal life?'"

And the article went on--showing more pictures of a miserable-looking Tess at one political function or another, wearing clothes that looked nothing like her, her messy hair always pulled back into a painful-looking bun. This had been her entire life, just as it had been his, but, where he had been forgiven and taken lightly, Tess had been mocked and tormented--her every action watched and judged both by the media and, if these pictures told even half the story, by her family, too.

He clicked out of the window, trying to focus again on the emails still flooding his inbox, but just as he'd opened the newest screen, Luca burst through the door.

"What is it this time?" Antone asked, not looking at his friend.

In response, Luca took the remote from the nearby table and the flat-screen TV on the opposite wall flickered to life. As usual, the 24-hour news program was the first channel to appear, but rather than a dour-faced reporter, Antone found himself staring at his wife, her messy brown curls pulled into the same painful-looking bun she'd worn in all those magazine pictures.

She sat upright, and she wore a feminine, pink dress with tule and silk that matched a bow she'd pinned to her hair.

She looked, he realized, just like her sister. Like his wild, stubborn Tess had been put through some sort of political funhouse mirror.

"How long has she been on?" Antone asked.

"They announced her a moment ago. The interview has not started yet," Luca answered, and he sank into a chair as the interview began.

"How are you today?" The reporter, a dark-haired woman with a soothing alto asked Tess and she grinned.

"I'm wonderful. I could not be better."

"As I understand it, this is your first interview ever, is that right?"

Tess gave her a shaky nod, though the plastic smile on her face stayed in place. "Yes, it is, and I'm so thrilled to be here. Thank you again for having me."

The interview started simply enough, with the reporter asking how Tess had come to know Antone and what she thought of the country, and to each of the questions, Tess let out a light, airy giggle before lying through her teeth. Her relationship with Antone had been a whirlwind, but she'd known, apparently, that they were meant to be from the moment she'd first seen him. Her family was lovely and supportive. Her scandal in the states was the result of childhood and she was ashamed of it now.

With every passing question, Antone's heart sank lower in his stomach, and though he knew Luca was watching him from the corner of his eye, he didn't say a word.

"If you could say one thing to the people of Napoline, what would you say?" The reporter asked, and Tess looked straight into the camera, this time affecting a serious demeanor.

"I didn't expect all of this any more than you did, but I am honored but the chance to bolster your prosperity. You and I are blessed to have a prince who will fight for us and who deeply cares, and I look forward to the day he will become king with all my heart."

"Turn it off," Antone said, and though Luca shot him a look of confusion, he did as he was told. "Please send for the princess Ellaria. I have a matter I wish to discuss with her. Urgently."

He sucked in his cheeks, watching again as Luca left him to his thoughts.

He was heartsick, disgusted. Tess had lied--not because she thought it was the right thing, but because she'd thought it was the right thing for him. She'd submitted herself to the media, giving up everything that made her herself. Everything that made him love her.

But he never wanted her to do that again--she had sacrificed enough for his sake and the sake of their family.

From now on, he was going to be the one to make the compromises.

And for once? He knew exactly where to start.