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“OF ALL THE...”

“I can’t even...”

“What were you...”

“This is...”

“No, what it is is....”

“Ridiculous...”

“Stupid...”

“Thoughtless...”

“Immature...”

“Reckless...”

The words washed over Brinley as so many years of repeated criticisms had. She and Finn sat in her father’s private office, an enormous space with dark paneled walls and heavy velvet curtains, the huge desk no buffer against his fury and disappointment. Oil paintings of past royals scowled from their gilded frames, assessing the situation without humor.

She and Finn sat side by side on an overstuffed sofa emblazoned with the castle emblem. Queen Vivienne sat opposite on a matching sofa, and King Luke and King Edric paced irritably behind her, like a swinging ax pendulum. Brinley was vaguely aware of all this, but instead of retreating to the place in her mind that allowed her to absorb the criticism without being terribly bothered by it, she was overly aware of Finn.

It did not take a genius to know he had never been in trouble before.

Not real trouble, anyway.

Not caught-gazing-wide-eyed-at-the-camera-with-his-pants-around-his-ankles-and-his-hands-covering-the-breasts-of-the-little-sister-of-the-woman-who-had-just-abandoned-him trouble.

The photos were already on the internet. It was nine o’clock at night and tomorrow had its scandal.

“Finian,” said King Edric, in a failed attempt at calm. “We know you are grieving, but acting out in such a manner is unbefitting your status.”

Finn said nothing.

“Brinley,” said King Luke. “Acting out in such a manner is all-too-fitting for you, but even this...this...” He cringed as he remembered what this was. “It’s unacceptable.”

Brinley also said nothing. For the first time in her life, she did not know how they would end their threat or wrap up their tirade. Historically they would have thrown her second-best status in her face, remind her that this was why she would never be queen, never ascend the throne, never be taken seriously. But now there was no Elle Vida to soften the blow of her behavior, no Elle Vida to placate them and make them think, At least we have Elle.

Because they didn’t.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” King Edric demanded, glaring at his son.

“No,” Finn replied, voice free of inflection or emotion. Like he had no feelings at all, though just an hour earlier he had been feeling quite a lot of Brinley.

“Here’s what the press is saying.” Everyone jumped a little at the words, made even more unpleasant when uttered by Charles, her father’s secretary. His shiny bald head and nasally voice were things Brinley saw and heard in her nightmares, but he had been her father’s lackey for more than twenty years and could not be banished, despite her most fervent wishes.

He cleared his throat and began to read from the screen, relishing his role as snide narrator. “Princess Elle Vida’s shocking abdication of the throne was a mystery many thought would remain unsolved, but tonight’s scandalizing photographs offer an undeniable answer: after discovering her younger sister’s affair with her betrothed, Princess Elle fled the country in a frantic attempt to repair her broken heart and shattered trust.”

Brinley sat up straight. “That’s not true—”

He clicked to another headline and ignored her protest. “Everyone knows Brinley Cantrella can never fill her sister’s size six shoes, so perhaps she considered this tasteless affair the next best thing.”

“She does not wear a size six—”

Another click and another article. “In a last-ditch effort to salvage the centuries-old Estau-Lenora forestry agreement with the neighboring kingdom of Bellida, Prince Finian threw himself at the mercy of Princess Brinley Cantrella—in more salacious ways than anyone could have imagined...”

“Enough!” King Luke finally shouted. His cheeks were flushed, though whether with outrage or discomfort at his daughter’s indiscretion, she would never know. She had seen the expression so many times that she was pretty sure it was one and the same at this point.

“Is no one interested in the truth?” Brinley ventured, when “enough” quieted the room for an unbearably long time. “It was—”

“The truth is irrelevant,” Queen Vivienne interrupted, her voice level. Brinley’s parents loved her and did their best by her, but there was no one in the kingdom who believed they had ever loved her as much as they had Elle. Their love for Brinley was borne of duty and obligation, and the queen looked at her now with the same strained patience she so often had. “People will believe what they want. They will believe the worst.”

“It’s not like you haven’t given them plenty of reason,” King Edric added. Then, when the queen gave him a glare that would fell a rhinoceros, he reluctantly amended, “Both of you. You have both have given them reason.”

“Yes,” King Luke murmured, suddenly thoughtful. He stroked his goatee, and if not for his inherent goodness and fairness, it would have looked very much like the act of an evil villain. “A reason. The forestry contract.”

Brinley gritted her teeth. No one outside of Bellida would ever wish to extend the antiquated agreement that saw the landlocked kingdoms of Estau and Lenora export half their timber to Bellida in exchange for access to its waterways. Time and technology had allowed the countries to develop their own over-land routes, and while Lenora benefited more from the deal because they were located closer to the waterways, there was no longer any need for Estau to honor a deal that brought so little benefit to the country. Still, the kingdoms were steeped in tradition, and Finn’s older brother had recently wed the first-born princess of Bellida to secure Lenora’s role in the pact, and Finn and Elle had been expected to do the same for Estau.

Until she ran away.

“The first papers have already been distributed in North America,” Charles announced, looking a little too smug for anyone’s liking. “This photo is the front page.” Even more smugly, he turned the computer monitor so everyone could be reminded of exactly what the undeniably scandalizing—and full color—photograph looked like.

“An Act of Desperation...or Passion?” screamed the headline, silent but deafening all the same.

“That’s it,” King Luke said, carefully keeping his back to the photo. “Everyone enjoys a scandal, but more than that they appreciate a good love story. If we let the press tell the tale it will become seedy, but if we move fast, we can control the narrative.”

Brinley glanced at Finn, who managed to look stoic, but also confused. Stoically confused. Brinley was also confused, but more alarmed than anything.

“What are you saying?” The question was for her father, but she looked at her mother, who was unable to meet her eye.

“I’m telling you,” King Luke began, emphasis on the tell. “That the world has now seen what should have been obvious all along. You two have hidden your feelings for each other for years, and tonight the secret came to light.”

“But we haven’t—”

“I know that,” he said sharply. “We all know that. A royal marriage is not based on feelings, Brinley. Love is a byproduct of duty, and perhaps you will one day learn what both of those things are.” He could not quite hide the doubtful look he shot at Finn, as though he knew it would be impossible for such a perfect prince to love such a bad princess, no matter how honor and duty-bound that man was.

“But the world does not need to know what happens inside the castle walls,” he continued, forcing Brinley to bite her tongue to stop from pointing out that if he had not allowed tours, they would actually not know what happened inside the castle walls. “And as far as they are concerned, the secret is out, your love is very much real, and we will replace this embarrassing story with an even better one.”

She darted an uncertain glance at the photo. “What story could possibly—”

“You two shall be married,” he said. “Tomorrow.”