CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

“Hey Dad, are you going to be home for din— Oh!”

Cassandra stopped still in the doorway of her father’s office, her hand still on the knob, when four sets of Royal eyes turned her way.

Whoops.

Looks like Dad was having some sort of meeting. Once he’d been made Science Advisor last year, he’d been given this super-nice office; all the hardwood and ferns he couldn’t keep alive made it classier than any other he’d used. And it was big enough to host whoever might be dropping in.

In this case, it included Queen Viktoria, who was perched on the edge of his desk wearing a smart pantsuit and looking like a teenager from the ‘60s. Her sister, the Princess Marina, was sitting on the couch-loveseat thingy, her head bent towards Prince Arne, and it looked like they’d both been reading some kind of report before Cass caught their attention. Her eldest soon-to-be stepbrother, the serious Crown Prince Alek, was silhouetted against the picture window, his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. He looked contemplative as he studied her.

Cass wondered if she could conceivably back out of the room again, pulling the door closed, and hope no one had noticed her entrance. She tried a smile on Dad.

It didn’t work.

“I’ll be home, young lady. If you decide you want to be, I’m looking forward to our conversation. About, say, where you’ve been the last two nights.”

Okay, now she was hoping the floor would just swallow her up alive. Because Alek’s imperious brow just went up, and Cass was a little ill to think he might know she’d spent the last two nights here at the palace.

With Kristoff.

Of course, Dad didn’t need to know that—she’d texted him perfectly good excuses. Which it looked like he hadn’t bought, judging from the way he was trying to hide his smirk with what he probably thought was a stern fatherly glare.

Oh my Thor, I’m being parented by a man who uses salt water from the aquarium to overwater his ferns, and then wonders why they die.

Still, spending the past two nights with Kristoff had done wonders for her boldness level, so whereas she might’ve stammered an excuse or apology this time last week, today she just raised her chin and borrowed some of Alek’s arrogance.

“I’m making tacos.”

Dad scowled. “I hate tacos.”

“Yes, I know.”

Queen Viktoria made a difficult-to-identify noise, and turned her head towards the window so no one could see her expression. Was she laughing? Alek’s lips were turned up slightly, and even Marina was smiling.

Arne shifted forward on the couch. “We were just discussing the Regatta, Cassandra. You’re welcome to stay.”

Oh. “Um, I think Kristoff might be the better choice—” she began.

Marina interrupted with a wave of her hand. “We were actually discussing the disturbing events surrounding the engagement announcement concert.”

“Disturbing events?”

Cass had heard Dad saying something, but she’d been too wrapped up in the whole Ohmigawd I’m actually seeing Fuchsia live! thing. —which is why Dad had insisted on hiring her, because he hadn’t realized his daughter wasn’t twenty-one anymore and maybe her tastes had changed.

Arne was the one who answered the question. “For a while we weren’t sure if the concert would actually happen.” As the Minister of Culture, it’d been his job to make sure it did, which is how he met Emma. “The workers went on strike—based on a miscommunication—some valuable equipment went missing, and remember how the power went out? That was no accident.”

Alek shifted to take control of the conversation. “That, combined with my kidnapping earlier this summer—where the demands were explicitly to denounce Mother’s remarriage—made us wonder if someone is still trying to keep the wedding from happening.”

Cass frowned in confusion. “Yeah, but those two things—”

“Very different, yes.” Alek agreed. “And sabotaging a concert wouldn’t stop the announcement from being made some other way.”

Marina flipped through the bundle of papers on her lap. “Which is why I think the concert was just coincidental.”

Dad scoffed. “Please. Someone didn’t want us to make that announcement.”

“Or…” Cass said thoughtfully. “Maybe someone was trying to make you look bad?”

Arne nodded. “That’s what I suspect, too. A campaign to discredit the Royal family.”

“So what we need to ask ourselves,” Alek said, “is what the next target will be. If this is a campaign, the perpetrators won’t give up. They’ve hit us once personally—my and Toni’s kidnapping—and once publicly.”

It was making sense now. “And you think whoever it is will hit you publicly again, at the Regatta?”

Alek shrugged. “We’re hoping not, because midsummer celebrations are national holidays in Aegiria. The beaches will be packed, and not just for people watching the race. And then there’s the party on the Royal yacht that evening. There are any number of chances for someone to cause mischief to either make us look bad or to try to stop the wedding.”

“Or worse,” Arne said grimly.

The nods from those gathered told Cass this was serious. “So, what are you going to do?”

Queen Viktoria cleared her throat, and when she spoke for the first time, everyone deferred to her. “We will increase security dramatically. Call in the Guard, have them stationed along the shore and patrolling the bay.”

Marina frowned slightly. “People will notice and rumors will start.”

“They don’t have to be in uniform,” her sister shot back.

“But if they are noticed and people become suspicious—”

“Then our people will know we care about their safety!” Viktoria snapped, exasperated. “We cannot allow something dangerous to happen at a public event like this. It was a miracle no one was hurt during the concert when the power was cut. A spectacle like the Regatta—at a time like this—has the potential to be disastrous, and not just to our image.”

Alek spoke quietly from his place by the window. “Our people’s lives are more important than what they think of us.”

Another round of silent head-nodding, and the somber mood of the room made Cass itch to leave once more.

“Um…Kristoff is really the one to talk to about this. He’s helping the committee plan the Regatta.” The race was next week, and surely the committee would need to be made aware? “I’m really just here, to…uh…”

Well, to find out if Dad was expecting her at the apartment for dinner, or if she could spend another night with Kristoff. But she couldn’t exactly say that.

But the queen seemed to understand what hadn’t been said. Her smile was both indulgent and enigmatic when she nodded. “You’re here because we’re about to be family, dear. We would value your input.”

“Oh. Um…” Cass was already backing towards the door. “Then, I guess…I think if you really are concerned with some kind of madman doing something to the race, or the spectators, then it’s important to protect people.” She bumped into the door, and her hand fumbled almost unconsciously for the knob. “But I don’t see what interrupting the Regatta would do, if this guy’s intentions are about stopping the wedding.”

“You’re right.” Arne nodded. “Disrupting the Regatta might make the royal family look bad, but it wouldn’t do anything to stop the wedding.”

Alek frowned. “If the sabotage at the concert was an attempt to halt the concert and thus the announcement, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect something similar at this event.”

Before Arne could rebut, and right around the time Cass was beginning to wonder if they’d notice if she opened the door just enough to slip out, Marina’s phone dinged. The Princess glanced at it, thumbed the alarm, and stood from her spot at the couch.

“We need to wrap this up. Five minutes until Britta arrives to discuss flower and music choices, Viktoria.”

Was it Cass’s imagination, or did the queen grimace slightly? She slid off Dad’s desk and moved to his side, and he took her hand.

“I still don’t see why we can’t just do something intimate like Willy wants. I had a state wedding once, and it would be nice to do something private this time.” She smiled down at Dad. “Willy’s quite smart about things like that, you know.”

Oh no, they’re making googly eyes at each other. Cass glanced over and caught Arne’s expression just as he managed to soothe it from creeped-out to oh-isn’t-that-sweet. Looked like she wasn’t alone.

Marina sighed. “We’re holding the wedding on the royal yacht, like William wants. But you cannot deny that this is a formal occasion. Aegiria needs a wedding befitting a monarch.”

“But—”

Before she had to hear the whole argument, Cass nodded to Alek—who was looking faintly amused—and slipped out of the door.

Thank God.

She breathed a little sigh of relief as she pulled the door to Dad's office closed behind her and looked around the waiting area. It was the sitting room of an old guest suite which had been converted into opulent offices for various ministers and advisors to the crown.

Even with the addition of the receptionist desk, the room retained its cozy atmosphere. Two groups of people we're sitting in the various plush chairs spread throughout the room; the two men under the windows were both sipping coffee while they spoke, and the man and the woman at the coffee table were surrounded by folders full of papers and two laptops. And of course, there were two steely-eyed bodyguards—Cass would’ve recognized them by their black uniforms and suspicious glares even if she hadn’t known their names already—on either side of the outer door. Alek and the queen must’ve left them out here before their private meeting.

It was the woman chatting with the receptionist who caught Cass’s eye. Or rather, Cass caught her eye.

Britta did a double-take when she saw Cass come out of the office, and the other woman’s grin as she straightened and smoothed the front of her expensive little red dress-suit was positively catty. She didn't acknowledge the receptionist when she grabbed her tablet and moved across the room, those perfect high heels making her perfect butt sway perfectly. The two men by the window watched her in admiration.

The last time she’d seen Britta, Cass’s stomach had soured with jealousy. Now, she watched the woman with a sort of detached academic interest. I wonder why.

Then, right as Britta swayed to a stop in front of her, Cass realized the answer. Kristoff. She might not be as beautiful as the wedding planner, but Kristoff seem to like her well enough. She smiled, remembering just how well he liked her. Three times last night! They were well-suited, and she knew for a fact he enjoyed his time with her.

That smile might have been a mistake. Britta’s expression flickered briefly to irritation, then back to her calculating smile.

“Well, if it isn't the charity case.”

Cass actually looked behind her, wondering if Kristoff had snuck up on her. How did Britta know about Kristoff’s contribution to the charity? He’d made it pretty clear he didn't want the general public knowing. Unless Britta that didn't count as the general public...

She was trying to figure out how to ask the other woman that when Brita rolled her perfect blue eyes.

“You, you fat cow. The only reason Kristoff offered to be seen with you was because he has a soft heart. He felt sorry for you.” She sneered as she looked Cass up and down, obviously not approving of the lightweight sundress she’d packed to make Kristoff smile. “There's no way a prince would choose someone like you for anything serious.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice in false sympathy. “He probably only made the offer because he knew he could get into your pants.”

Whereas a minute before, Cass’s biggest problem had been wondering how to get away before her father began to make kissy faces at a monarch, doubt slammed into her with enough force to make her step back, away from Britta. The other woman’s grin grew.

Oh God. A pit opened in Cass’s stomach. Were Britta’s words correct? Had Kristoff only taken her sailing, invited her back to his room, made incredible love to her, because he pitied her? Did he really see her as a charity case?

You clumsy, fat cow.

Those were Britta’s words, but…but they were true. Cass was clumsy, and while she liked to think of herself as “adorkable”, Britta’s description was accurate too.

With the other woman smiling wolfishly at her, Cass couldn’t allow herself to cry, but great googly-moogly, she wanted to. Instead, she clenched one hand into a fist and welcomed the bite of her nails against her skin. That sensation kept her focused enough to lift her chin haughtily.

“He’s asked me to be his partner.”

She threw the words out like a gauntlet, trying to mask the doubt eating away at her insides. When Britta’s eyes widened, Cass saw the disbelief in them…but the other woman’s expression quickly turned to anger.

And Cass knew she had to tell the truth. “In the Regatta, I mean.” Not like, in life or anything.

“What?”

“Kristoff and I went sailing together, and we’re pretty awesome at it.” She struggled to hold on to that memory. They were awesome together, and that didn’t have anything to do with her being a—a—a fat cow. “He needed a partner to sail with, so he asked me.”

And she’d been proud when he’d asked. Remember that.

But Britta’s scowl turned calculating, then thoughtful as she stared. Finally, the other woman raised one perfect brow. “Is that so? Well, I am planning on entering the race too. Sailing is in my blood as much as in Kristoff’s.”

Was she saying she would’ve been a better match for Kristoff? Maybe so. They certainly would’ve made a good-looking team, Cass had to admit. Instead he’d be stuck with little old her.

You can sail. That’s what Kristoff had said to her, when he’d been trying to explain why he found her attractive. Cass held tight to those words. She could sail—it was something she was good at.

Yeah. Yeah.

Cass’s chin went up. “Oh yeah? Well, Kristoff and I make a great team. I’ll bet we beat you.”

The flash of triumph in Britta’s eyes told Cass the other woman had been waiting for an opening.

“A bet! Excellent idea.”

Wait, what? “A bet,” Cass repeated, doubtfully.

“That was your idea, wasn’t it?” The other woman tossed her hair and shifted her weight slightly. “We’ll bet on the outcome of the race.”

Uh-oh. “What…kind of stakes?”

And when Britta’s smile turned wolfish, Cass knew she was in trouble.

“Kristoff.”

“You want to wager Kristoff?”

The wedding planner waved her hand languidly. “The winner’s party, that night on the royal yacht. Whoever wins our little race gets escorted by Kristoff.”

“So…we’re wagering a date with Kristoff? Don’t you think he should have a say in that?”

“Oh, this is just a friendly competition, right?” Britta’s predatory grin was anything but friendly. “No need to bother him about it. When I win, I’ll just explain you were kind enough to let me dance with him.” She leaned in. “All night long.”

She obviously had a very specific kind of all-night-long dancing in mind, and Cass didn’t like it. Not after all the night-time dancing she’d been doing with Kristoff.

She resisted the urge to close her eyes on a groan, knowing that would clue Britta in on her distress. Instead, she forced a smile. After all, she and Kristoff were a good team, and Kristoff was already a shoe-in to win the race. That’s why he’d come up with the scheme to get the charity money to Enriching Children in the first place; he was fairly certain of his chances to win. Having her on board wasn’t going to hurt either.

So… “You’re on.” They weren’t going to lose. Cass would be able to attend that party with her head high and her arms around Kristoff, knowing they’d kicked perfect Britta’s perfect butt.

But that triumph flashed in Britta’s eyes again as the other woman straightened to her full height, and Cass felt a sense of dread creeping over her. Why was the other woman so pleased by this bet? What did Britta know that Cass didn’t?

Cass was just about to cave and ask that question—already dreading the other woman’s perfect snarky reply—when the door opened behind her. Luckily, she’d moved far enough into the room that Alek and Arne didn’t bump into her when they exited, but Cass spun around to face them so fast she almost stumbled.

You know, for a change.

Arne caught her elbow and smiled pleasantly. “Hello again, soon-to-be-stepsister.”

The kind greeting, combined with Britta’s bitchiness, caused a lump to form in Cass’s throat. She couldn’t reply, but nodded quickly a few times in acknowledgement.

And now I look like a bobblehead. A clumsy bobbleheaded cow.

Arne’s grin turned towards Britta. “Ms. Jensen, our mother and Dr. Haynes are ready to discuss wedding particulars. Aunt Marina is in there too.”

Britta fairly crowed at the reminder of her importance, and shot Cass a triumphant look. And why not? The woman was planning the biggest event of the decade; the Royal Wedding!

Still, when Britta smiled like that, Cass couldn’t help feeling she was gloating for another reason…the Kristoff wager?

The two princes nodded politely and moved out into the hallway, while Britta straightened her already-perfect little suit and moved towards the door to Dad’s office. Right before she pulled it open and slipped through it, she turned and gave Cass another triumphant smile.

And Cass felt a pit open up in her stomach. All of the self-doubt and fear and insecurities came crawling back. She wasn’t good enough for Kristoff, and she wasn’t good enough to beat Britta.

Uh-oh. what have I gotten myself into to?