It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. The guests have finally left, and I can’t find Tessa anywhere, which has panic rising in my chest. Brooke’s timing could not have been worse. If only I had a chance to explain to Tessa that it was all real. Everything I said to her, I meant. But then again, maybe it was only real on my end. She’s the one who was looking for ammunition to hand over to Jack the Wanker Janssen. I’m angry and hurt, and I hate like hell to know that she’s feeling the exact same way about me.

After Brooke showed up, I ended up stuck in a long, but vital discussion with some very powerful friends who are willing to pull out all the stops on our behalf. I could hardly leave them to go find Tessa, but now as I hurry to the private residences, I know in my gut that she’s gone. I check her room first, letting myself in with the key that she gave me weeks ago. Her bed is made. The closet empty. She is gone. I hurry around the suite for any sign of her, then rush to my room.

When I open the door, I see them. The slippers are sitting neatly on the coffee table. Next to them is an envelope. I tear it open and see her handwriting.

Arthur,

We’ve been playing a horribly, stupidly dangerous game, and I’ve decided to end it. Even Michael Corleone wouldn’t have dared to keep his enemies this close.

I am sorry for keeping the truth from you for so long, and were we to speak again, I imagine that you would say the same thing to me. Whether you would mean it or not is another matter entirely.

The truth is none of that matters. There’s no point in trying to fix what has been broken beyond repair because whatever we were to each other was built on lies and bad intentions, which means it was nothing from the start.

But even if we had been honest with each other, and even if we could trust each other, you and I could never have a future together. It became crystal clear tonight that I don’t belong in your world, and I never have.

Don’t worry, you’ll still get what you want from me. I told you the other night that I wanted to help you, and I will keep my word.

You win,

Tessa

Oh, fuckity-fuck-fuck.

* * *

“Arthur, get up!” The shrill sound of my sister’s voice wakes me from a dead sleep.

I open my eyes just in time for her to throw open the curtains and let the sun burn the corneas off my eyeballs. “Ahh! Shit.”

“The parade is starting in fifteen minutes. Vincent has come by three times already to wake you.” She whips off my covers, then screams and turns around. “Why are you naked?!”

“I sleep in the nude.” I gather a sheet around me. “Why the hell are you tearing off my covers, anyway?”

“I just told you! You are meant to be outside in your morning suit right now, looking more like a crown prince and less like a vagabond.”

“Can you dial back the shrill by about ten points? I have a splitting headache.”

“Get. Up!” Her heels click across the floor. “The entire country is waiting for us. You will not keep them waiting if you know what’s good for you.”

* * *

Exactly twenty-three minutes later, I climb into the gold and black open-air carriage, dressed in my ridiculous grey penguin suit and top hat. My father and grandmother sit across from me, and I sit next to Arabella, facing backwards as the horses begin to jostle us around for the unbearably long trek around the city. Grandmother is in a yellow dress with a large feathered matching hat that is so bright it’s like sitting across from the sun. Arabella is in a white dress with pink flowers and a tiny hat that looks like it belongs on a Chihuahua.

I burst out laughing. “Nice hat. Did your maid shrink it in the dryer?”

Arabella sighs. “So glad you could join us. It wouldn’t be a parade without your snarky commentary.”

“Finally up, I see?” my father sneers.

“Who plans a bloody parade at ten in the morning the night after a ball?” I grumble.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t get piss drunk and stay up all night, you would’ve had an easier time getting up at a respectable hour,” Arabella says.

“You didn’t seem drunk at the ball,” my grandmother says.

“I wasn’t. That was after.”

“Why would you and Tessa start drinking so late at night?” she asks.

“She’s gone.” I take a flask out of my pocket. “I was drinking alone.” I tip up the flask and let the liquid burn down my throat. I feel like I could vomit, but if I can keep it down, a little pick me up is exactly what the doctor ordered. Okay, so, I’m not a doctor, but I did play one once in a fun little role-play thing with the Duchess of Funsville, so I figure I’m qualified to prescribe alcohol to fill the gaping hole in my soul.

“Put that away, you bloody idiot,” my dad says, leaning forward to take it from me. I raise my hand so it’s out of his reach and glare at him. Oh, it’s good to be tall.

“I’ll have it finished by the time we leave the palace gates.” I tip it back and let the rest pour down my throat until the flask is empty.

“What do you mean she was gone?” my grandmother asks.

“Just that.”

“Good. So the girl can take a hint,” my father says.

My gaze hardens. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Arabella swats at me with her hand. “Put that away. We’re about to cross the river.”

I tuck the flask back in my pocket and hear the thrum of the television news helicopter that will follow us for the next three torturous hours. Oh, Christ. Where is a lone shooter when I need one? “No answer, Father?”

“I simply paid her the kindness of ensuring she was being realistic about the future.”

As soon as we cross the river, the sound of people cheering joins the slapping of the helicopter blades. As if on cue, we all turn to look out the carriage and begin to smile and wave at the crowd.

None of us move our mouths, but we manage to hold an entire conversation through our teeth.

My father waves as he says, “Don’t I get a thank you? I was doing your dirty work for you. I saw you with Brooke and knew you’d want to rid yourself of the blogger woman as quickly as possible.”

“We’ve been over this before. I have no interest in marrying Brooke.”

“Tell me you’re not actually considering that little idiot to be queen.”

I grin at a group of children waving miniature paper versions of our family’s flag. “You’re a total son of a bitch. No offence, Grandmother.”

“None taken, darling.”

“I may be a son of a bitch, but that’s better than being an utter disappointment.”

“Ha!” my grandmother says. “If anyone in this carriage is a disappointment, it’s you, Winston. A bitter one.”

“Shut up, you old bat.”

“Don’t speak to Gran that way!”

“I’ll speak to her any way I like. I’m the bloody king.”

“Not for long.” My voice comes out sounding like Professor Snape. If I weren’t so filled with rage, I’d find this almost amusing.

“What is that supposed to mean? Planning a regicide, are we?” he asks as he points at a little boy in the crowd and pretends to laugh.

“If I am, believe me, you won’t know until it’s too late.” Neck getting sore. Smile and wave to the opposite side now.

“I could have you locked away for saying such things.”

“Then do it. I’m sure the company would be an improvement. No offence, Arabella, Grandmother.”

“None taken. Winston, did you really chase that lovely girl away?”

“What lovely girl? You can’t be referring to that dumb bitch of a reporter.”

“Say it again and I swear to God, I’ll punch your face right here.” I don’t know why I’m defending the woman who ran out on me last night, but somehow, I can’t stop myself.

My father snorts. “I honestly can’t decide whether to hope for victory or defeat at the referendum. Victory will mean putting an absolute moron in charge when I die.”

“Stop it. The both of you. You should both be ashamed of yourselves,” Arabella hisses, her face frozen in a wide smile. “Neither of you deserve to rule so much as a sand castle, let alone a real kingdom.”

My father lets out a strangled laugh. “Oh, and do you think you’d do a better job? With all your experience hosting tea parties and weeping over stray dogs?”

“I would do better than a man who gets caught evading his taxes, then flits about to get his jollies with women from every corner of the globe.”

“The earth is round, dear,” Grandmum says.

“I know that. It’s an expression.”

“What did you say to her?” I growl at my father.

Arabella thinks I’m referring to her. “I said, it’s an expression, which it is. I know the earth is round. I’m the one who called it a globe!”

“I meant father.” The booze is kicking in finally, numbing my rage, but also my self-control. Hmm, not sure if this will be a good thing or a bad thing. “What did you tell Tessa?”

“I merely told her that you would require a more suitable woman as your wife, which you will.”

Before I can respond, the carriage stops in front of the Abbey. Two footmen hurry around to open the half-doors for us and help the ladies down so we can shake hands with the people, and accept flowers and cards. I seize the opportunity to hop over the barricades and stride straight into a pub on the corner with a crowd, as well as my security team, in tow.

“I’d like to buy a round for the house!” I call to the bartender, which earns me a cheer as I make my way up to the bar.

“I’ll have a pint of Sheepshagger Gold, please.” I take off my hat and lean my elbow on the bar. “Oh, can you make it fast? I’m in the middle of a parade,” I say to the man behind the bar.

He gives me a shrug as he pulls on the tap. “I can pour fast, but I’m afraid drinking it down is the bit that takes all the time.” He slides the glass to me.

“Leave that to me.” I turn to the crowd. “Here’s to our eight hundredth birthday! Even if I never sit my royal arse down on the throne, may we have another eight hundred more.” I gulp down the beer in one go, which seems to be worthy of even more reverence than buying everyone a round.

I set down the glass and turn to the other patrons, who are all lining up to get their free drink. “All right. That’s me. I have to get back to the parade.”

Turning to Ollie, I mutter, “Forgot my wallet. Can you pay the man, and I’ll square up with you later?”

Ollie, who already has his credit card out, just nods. We’ve been through this before.

Getting out is a lot harder than walking in. I am stopped every few feet to sign autographs and pose for photos. I make an arse of myself, doing the hang loose sign and making funny faces for the cameras. Give the people what they want, right? Know your audience, and all that bullshit.

When I get back to the carriage, my family sits waiting and glaring openly. I hop in and sit down. “Oh, don’t look so sour, I was just doing some PR. You should try it sometime, Father. You know, actually spend a few minutes with the people of your nation. If you had bothered to do it even a little, we wouldn’t be about to have all our stuff thrown out on the lawn.”

“Is that what your little peasant girl told you?” my father asks.

Grandmum takes her turn now. “Oh, do shut up! The pair of you are like a couple of children badly in need of a smacked bottom!”

I open my mouth to speak, but she silences me with a finger pointed in my face. “Not one more word out of your bratty mouth. If the two of you want to go a round when we’re back inside the castle walls, you have my blessing, but not here. Not when the vote is only weeks away. You will conduct yourselves with a sense of decorum, or I’ll slap those stupid hats right off your heads.”

When she’s done, she turns and smiles out at the crowd, and resumes her dainty waving, as though we’ve just been chatting about the weather. God, I love that woman.