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THE NEXT WEEKS BROUGHT more happiness than Brinley had ever known inside the castle walls. It still felt odd to think of Finn as her husband, but it felt natural to think of him as her lover and her friend and her confidant, things with which she had so little experience that each secret look or private touch felt like a novelty. Of course, all good things came to an end, and the dismal ending to their unexpected honeymoon phase was a trip to Lenora to witness a special announcement from Prince Jedrek and Princess Ilona. Everyone knew they would be telling the world they were expecting their first child, and everyone would act pleasantly surprised by the news. Each moment of their lives to date had been carefully planned and moderated; the pregnancy was just the next thing on the schedule.

Brinley stared out the car window at the rapidly darkening horizon. Castle Lenora had been built at the top of a mountain and the country ranged around it at varying altitudes, the peaked wooden chalets and snow-capped backdrops reminiscent of scenic paintings of luxurious ski villages. They had arrived by private jet an hour earlier, and the motorcade had been winding up the side of the snowy mountain at such a slow pace ever since that Brinley suspected it was being done specifically to torment her. She hated coming to Lenora. She had hated it ever since she fell in love with Finn and their family came to visit and she had listened in horror at dinner as their parents planned her sister’s future wedding to the man of her dreams.

“You have been silent for nearly three hours,” Finn observed from the far side of the backseat. They were alone in the dark interior, the partition up, the tinted glass shielding them from any onlookers. It was the first time in the weeks since the trip to the dungeon that they had spent any time alone with their clothes on and their hands to themselves. “I cannot help but wonder what you are plotting.”

“A coup,” Brinley answered absently. “Always a coup.”

Finn turned off the tablet in his lap, and the fading screen cast morphing shadows across his handsome face. “You said you just didn’t like flying,” he remarked. “But we landed over an hour ago, and you are still quiet.”

“Well...” Brinley faltered. “I hate it here.”

He looked surprised. “All of Lenora or just the castle?”

“Both. Well, the castle, I suppose. I have only ever been given the most perfunctory tour of the country.” She had always wanted the freedom to explore the lands the way she could explore her home, finding the hidden secrets and not just the photogenic arrangements she was expected to ooh and ahh over. But mostly she hated being there because in Estau she was still their princess; here she was just a target for the pointed barbs they could not launch at their own royal family because they were so infuriatingly perfect.

“I hate it too,” Finn agreed.

Brinley twisted in her seat. “You do?”

“Yes. It’s...dull. It’s soulless. It doesn’t have you.”

Brinley felt some of the dread leave her. These past weeks she had shown Finn more of herself than she had ever shown anyone. And not just sexually, though they had done that, too. She had shown him the corner of the dining table where she had hit her head and required three stitches, had shown him the drape in the Antiquities Room where she had accidentally burned off the corner after a tutor told her real silk didn’t burn but failed to mention that the drapes were wool. She had even shown him two other secret passageways she had discovered, one leading from the library to the old servants’ quarters, and another from the kitchen to an empty guest room on the second level. There was a fourth passageway she knew about, but she had not mentioned it. She had only ever shown one other person that tunnel, and they had used it to flee the castle and elope with a lumberjack.

“It will be fine,” Finn said, when she didn’t say anything. “It’s just a cocktail party and the ‘surprise’ baby announcement. Then we’ll retire to our rooms, have brunch in the morning, and be back in Estau this time tomorrow.”

She sighed. “When Elle left...” She trailed off, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like she was glad her sister had run away. “I was sad when I learned Elle was gone, but in a way, it was kind of a relief. She was the good princess, and standing next to her highlighted my faults. With her gone, my faults could stand on their own merit.”

Finn smiled politely.

“But everyone in Lenora is perfect,” Brinley continued. “You, Jedrek, Ilona... There are no burnt drapes or slices in the wallpaper, there is nothing to distract from...me.”

“People watch you because they are curious.”

“To see what wrong move I will make next.”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “just stand very, very still.”

She shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Don’t move an inch,” he murmured, sliding across the leather seat so their arms touched. A muscle in her calf jumped when his hand slipped under the soft fabric of her dress, squeezing her knee as it traveled along the smooth skin to the junction of her thighs.

“And don’t make a sound,” he added, “even if you find it extremely difficult.”

His fingers started to play over her skin, first to tease, then to titillate. He had had plenty of practice at this over the past weeks, and he was as keen a student in the bedroom as he had been in school. It took no time at all for Brinley to find herself wet and wanting, but she played along with his little game, doing her utmost to hide the fact that she was feeling anything at all.

Finn, of course, could feel it. The fingers he slipped inside her panties and then between her slick folds knew exactly what they were looking for, and it took everything she had not to part her legs and give him access to all of it.

He used the heel of his hand to grind gently against her clit, enough to torment her but not enough to end the torment, and Brinley had to bite her lip to stop from pleading with him for release. She did not want to ruin the game; she also did not want to beg. But she wanted very much to come. The preoccupation with the feelings he built within her overrode all of her anxiety about today’s excursion, and before she could stop herself, her head fell back against the seat and she exhaled one single, plaintive word: “Please.”

Finn’s hand stopped moving, fingers lodged deeply inside her. “Brinley,” he said sternly.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Please,” she said again. “I need it.”

His mouth twitched. “Need what, exactly?” He knew very well what she needed, but moved his other hand instead, lifting it to the scooped neckline of her dress and tugging the fabric down to reveal the lacy trim of her bra, the swells of her breasts. He tugged a little more, exposing her completely, and nudged aside the flimsy lace to bare her puckered nipple, flicking it idly with his thumb.

Brinley writhed in her seat, acutely aware of the weight of his fingers inside her, the reward that waited if she could just behave long enough. Her tutors had tried to teach her the virtues of patience so many times, then given up when their own patience expired.

“I need to come,” she said, her voice hitching. “Please move your hand again. Please touch me.”

He held her gaze, then slowly lowered his head so his mouth covered her nipple, lips fastening around the sensitive skin and sucking hard. Brinley’s back arched and her legs fell apart, and all pretense of not moving fell by the wayside. She felt herself sliding down the smooth leather until her back was on the seat and her husband loomed over her, his fingers thrusting hard inside, finding just the right spot to have her fumbling for her satin clutch, biting into the shiny fabric as she came. Finn drew out the orgasm as long as he could, until she had not even the strength to tremble anymore, her carefully styled hair tousled, stray curls springing loose to advertise her guilt. Even when Finn helped her to sit up and passed her a handful of tissues to tidy herself, she knew no amount of effort could hide who she really was.

Not that she particularly cared at the moment.

Finian of Lenora was her husband, and he was fantastic.

She darted a glance at his crotch, the sizable bulge confirming that he was not quite as removed from the experience as his calm demeanor would suggest. Finn was not the only one with practice making his spouse come; Brinley had spent hours exploring his body, learning what made him moan and clutch the sheets and curse like a sailor. She knew his touch and his taste, his hard parts and soft parts and all the places in between.

She shifted on her seat. “Do you want me to—”

He caught her hand before she could touch him. “No. We have arrived.” He cleared his throat and exhaled, the sound shaky. “And I have never been so disappointed to be home.”

* * *

THEY WERE GREETED BY a flurry of blinding flashbulbs, a thousand miniature explosions that had stars dancing behind Brinley’s eyes. The party brought out the who’s who of Lenora’s upper class, and they expected the red carpet treatment. She tried her best to look good and gracious as Finn held her hand and led her swiftly past the line, bodyguards flanking them on all sides. There would be palace photographers inside and they would be required to pose for pictures at the party, but they were not expected to linger here. Still, they had been forced to make their entrance this way, and Brinley knew she was not being paranoid when she guessed it was for the bored media’s benefit. Tomorrow’s predictable headline announcing the royal baby was already printed; what they were hoping for was a Brinley Cantrella scandal to spice things up.

They made it inside without incident, and Brinley shook her head to clear it, dragging her heels when Finn continued to propel them forward.

“Hang on,” she muttered, trying to gather herself. “You’re going too fast.”

Finn opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He released her hand and smoothed the lapels of his jacket, unbuttoning then buttoning it again. The stern, unsmiling Prince Finn was back, looking as tense as the guards that surrounded them, and Brinley felt her recently assuaged nerves come flooding back. She didn’t belong here, and she hated that she had been obliged to come. She hated that she had been trotted out as entertainment fodder when she could have been home doing something—anything—else. Still, as she had done so many times before, she dragged in a deep breath and forced herself to nod. “I’m ready.”

Finn gave her an assessing look, ascertaining her readiness for himself, then nodded back. He took her elbow loosely in his fingers and they walked down the flower-lined hallway to the castle’s formal ballroom. This section of the palace was frequently used to host parties and various events, and it was well lit and perfectly staged for photo ops. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the stunning mountains, their white peaks contrasting starkly against the night sky. Carefully positioned harpists strummed bland pre-approved songs as two hundred partygoers picked at artfully prepared canapés and drank wine made from grapes grown on the palace’s own grounds.

Brinley accepted a glass of white wine and glanced around for some food. She had been too nervous to eat on the plane and had forgotten to eat in the car. She was famished. Spindly tables were stationed around the room, each topped with a tiny silver platter of hors d’oeuvres, and silent servers in long white aprons navigated the crowd with more options. Brinley was reaching for a napkin when she spotted a display at the front of the room that made her jaw drop.

“Are you seeing this?” she murmured, clutching Finn’s forearm. He had just begun a conversation with an older gentleman, and now he excused himself.

“Seeing what?”

She led them to the table in question. Like the others it was tall and narrow, but this one was topped with an enormous white chocolate egg flecked with gold. A bluebird made out of blown sugar sat atop an edible daffodil and pecked at the egg. The entire display was approximately two feet tall and looked ready to blow over at the slightest wrong breath.  

“It’s very...large,” Finn said after a moment.

“Could they be any less subtle?” Brinley demanded. “The announcement is supposed to be a surprise. And subtlety aside, I’m starving and all this chocolate is making it worse.”

“Come, then,” Finn said, placing a hand at the small of her back. “We will find some food.”

He steered her past two servers with platters of snacks, and Brinley gazed after them with longing. “Where are we going?”

He dipped his head to speak into her ear. “It’s not quite as exciting as a secret tunnel, but this castle does have...a kitchen.”

A few heads turned as they left the party as quickly as they had arrived, but Brinley ignored them as she always did. Finn pointed out various points of moderate interest as they wound through the back hallways of the castle, stopping in the kitchen to load up a plate with hors d’oeuvres that were destined for the ballroom. Brinley expected to eat and be promptly ushered back, but Finn surprised her when he led her out the opposite side of the kitchen and through another series of halls to a much quieter, more secluded section of the castle, eating as they toured.

She was relatively familiar with the public areas of Castle Lenora. She had visited here many times as a child, staying with her family in the guest wing. But she had never seen the hidden parts of the castle, the private parts, the places where Finn grew up. She thought he might show her secrets like she had shown him: a hidden tunnel, the faded bloodstain tucked beneath a Persian carpet where someone nicked themselves playing with a sword, a library book with its pages hollowed out to hide a well-used copy of Playboy.

But Finn’s memories were much like the ones she had read about in the Estau Tattler. They were as stiff and sanitized as the man himself—the man she once thought him to be—and revealed little she did not already know.

In the music room he pointed to the baby grand piano he had been forced to play for hours each day, his fingers whacked with a ruler by an ancient instructor. In the library he indicated the books he had been made to arrange alphabetically when he was not as quick to learn to read as his brother. In the hallway he pointed to a spot he had had to stand on the rare occasions he misbehaved, letting everyone witness his shame.

“Finn,” Brinley interrupted, when he began to tell her a story about a Latin tutor who likely tortured him. “Do you have any nice memories?”

He blinked at her. “Nice?”

“Yes. Anything you...liked while you lived here?” The words grew more tentative as she spoke and his face remained blank.

After a moment’s thought, he gave a curt nod. “Yes. Right this way.”

Brinley trailed after him. “If we are visiting an actual dungeon where you were kept upon receiving a low score on a spelling test...”

Finn shot her a droll look over his shoulder. “You know I have never received a low score in anything.”

He took her hand and led her down a long corridor to a private elevator, its doors paneled to blend into the wooden walls. They rode up three floors to a part of the castle Brinley had never seen: the family’s private suites.

Unlike a commoner, she was not terribly impressed by what she found. She did, after all, live in something quite similar. Like Castle Estau, this one had been updated, security cameras tracking their every move, expensive artwork lining the walls. Finn walked purposefully and Brinley prayed he was not taking her somewhere boring. When he unlocked a door a minute later, she discovered her prayer had been both answered and ignored.

They were in his bedroom, which she had often wondered about.

And it was boring.

The walls were painted a pale gray and the bed was also gray, with a splash of royal blue in the form of a neatly folded wool blanket at the foot. Gold and white pillows rounded out the castle colors and offered uninspiring focal points. There was a desk with absolutely nothing on it, a dresser that was also bare, and the lone portrait on the wall was a black and white photograph of the royal family of Lenora meeting another royal family.

“Er...” Brinley said, turning in a vaguely disappointed circle to take it all in. “This is...”

“My room,” Finn finished.

“Yes. Right.” Her own bedroom was not nearly as elegant as Elle’s had been, but at least it looked lived in. Even though Finn’s belongings had been transported to Estau, she still imagined this room feeling cold and impersonal, even with his clothing hung in the wardrobe and his watch and tablet resting on the nightstand.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he added, striding across the room to one of the large windows on the far wall. They looked over the sprawling castle grounds, miles of snowy mountains glinting in the moonlight. Like this room—like the whole of Castle Lenora—the view was stark and cold and beautiful.

Finn lifted a heavy blue drape to reveal a large telescope tucked behind the fabric. He eased it out a few feet and fiddled with knobs and lenses, then, when he had it satisfactorily focused, he stepped aside and gestured for Brinley to look.

She found telescopes interesting, and Castle Estau had one on its observation deck, but she had been banned from it after swearing she had spotted a UFO and mentioning it in front of the press. The kingdom had been besieged by conspiracy theorists for the better part of three years.

Now she looked through the eyepiece and squinted as best she could, trying to see what Finn was showing her. He had aimed the telescope toward the top of the mountains, snowy peaks framing the view of...the night sky. She frowned at the stars, trying to identify a constellation or perhaps even a flying saucer, but she could not spot whatever it was she was supposed to spot.

“I don’t see it,” she said, stepping back. “What am I looking for?”

“Estau,” he answered. “If you were to climb out this window and walk in a perfectly straight line for five hundred and nineteen kilometers, you would step through the front doors of the castle.”

Brinley nudged Finn aside and took another look. Of course she could not see Estau from here, only the dark sky, like a blank canvas. In her mind’s eye she sketched an outline of the castle, the turrets and parapets, her bedroom window facing this one.

“I thought about you,” Finn admitted. “A lot. I thought about you looking back, through a telescope of your own.”

“I was not allowed—”

“I know,” he said. “The world knows about your UFO sighting. After the ‘incident’ I imagined you banned from the window and finding other things to do instead, exploring the castle, sword fighting, stealing herbs from the garden and making potions.”

“They caught me doing that and barred me from the kitchen garden.”

“I know. After you poisoned Elle—”

“By accident.”

“—I thought about your punishment, about how you might change. And yet every time I visited Estau or you came here, you were the same Brinley Cantrella. Just as curious and brave and bold—”

“And bad.”

“Yes, terrible...and I admired you more each time.” He studied his knuckles, recalling the painful rap of the ruler. “Nothing could break you, Brinley. When I thought I would marry Elle, I wondered about who you would marry, if you could have anyone you chose. I thought maybe a firefighter or a pilot or a mercenary—someone daring and exciting. I never once imagined it might be me.”

“I thought about you all the time,” Brinley confessed, studying her own hands, her left one adorned with the simple ring. “But I never believed it could be true.”

“I did not kiss you in the library because I was drunk,” Finn said. “Nor because I was sad. I did it because I felt like I could. Like I was finally free. Jedrek had married, Elle was gone, the obligations were lifted. And I had never felt that way before.”

She pictured him as a bird, sitting in a cage, wings folded, patient. She pictured herself as that same bird, squawking and banging against the bars, free but not. She did not know which was better or which was worse. To not know you wanted freedom at all, or to be so desperate for it that you injured yourself constantly in its pursuit?

“What is something you always wished you could do but never did?” Brinley asked. “Right here? In this room? They cannot punish you now. You can do anything you want—what would you choose?”

He tilted his head and looked at her, like the choice was obvious.

Brinley blushed. “That’s easy,” she said. “Something else. Something bad.”

Finn rolled his lips thoughtfully. “Well... I have always quite wanted to walk on the balcony.”

Brinley blinked. “Ah... Okay.”

“That one,” he added, nodding out the window at something below. He fiddled with the cold locks until they unlatched, then lifted the heavy pane. Icy winter air rushed in, making Brinley shiver, but still she joined her husband to look down at the narrow balcony that snaked around the side of the castle, approximately five feet below. They were at the back of the palace, the dark, empty grounds spread out beneath them.

“Why have you never walked on it?”

“It was forbidden,” Finn replied. “The doors that open onto it have been sealed shut. Climbing down would be the only access.”

“And why is it forbidden?”

“Because it leads past the Collections rooms. They felt it posed a security risk, that anyone walking past might peer in the windows and get the wrong idea. By banning the balcony, they removed the temptation.”

“But that makes it terribly tempting, and it’s sitting just right here,” she said. “So close. You never once climbed out?”

“You are the only person I know who climbs out windows,” Finn answered.

Her skin prickled with cold, but Brinley squared her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“Wait—right now?”

“Yes. When else?”

“We—I—The party...”

“It will not take long. We will walk along the balcony, peek at all the collections we would like to steal, and return. If they have not missed us yet, a few more minutes will not matter. And if they already miss us, a few more minutes will not change things. Now, let’s go.” Without waiting for his confirmation, she shoved the bottom of the long drape out the window, hoisted up her skirt, and stuck out a leg so she straddled the ledge. Holding the curtain for balance, she carefully lowered herself the short distance to the balcony, then gazed up at Finn’s stunned face.

“Come on,” she called. “There are collections to see and thefts to plan.”

He hesitated a second more, then copied her actions and soon joined her on the balcony. They shivered in the cold night, their breath hanging in white clouds in the air, then Finn grinned at her, flashing the rarely-seen dimples and looking happier than he had since their arrival.

The balcony was not wide enough for them to walk side by side so Brinley led the way, stepping carefully along the frost-slicked stone, her hand tucked inside Finn’s. The first Collections room was about fifteen feet away, warm light glowing from the large window, and they peered inside at the museum-style room that housed centuries’ old china and glassware.

“My tutor gave me a tour of this room when I was twelve,” Finn murmured. “And then an exam. I have not been back since.”

“Since you were twelve?”

“That’s right.”

“But it’s so near!”

He shrugged. “It was forbidden. The collections are for...”

“Collecting?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

They passed two more windows, stealing glimpses of antique books and ceramics, Finn studying the items raptly. Brinley’s heart ached for him, looking in on a life he had not been allowed to lead. Who might he have become if he had been able? Sure, she often felt like a criminal in her own home, but Estau was very much her home and she was very much a living, breathing person inside it.

Two more windows, a gold room and an antiquities room, and they started the short trip back. Brinley shivered with each step, but Finn walked with renewed purpose, his shoulders broad and strong, his head high. She figured he was thinking of himself as a bold rule-breaker now, and the idea made her smile.

Beneath his window she gripped the drape and Finn hoisted her up. Brinley clambered back inside with an ease borne of years of practice, and leaned out to help Finn, who required no assistance. He braced one foot on the rail, grabbed the drape and the ledge, and with a graceful leap, landed deftly inside. He looked at Brinley and grinned and she grinned back, her smile fading when his gaze locked on something over her shoulder.

She turned to see his parents, King Edric and Queen Cecille, glaring from the doorway. With their matching stiff postures and disappointed scowls, it was painfully obvious that they were related to Finn. He reached behind to retrieve the drape and close the window, but even still the cold lingered in the room, and Brinley strongly suspected it radiated from the frowning couple twenty feet away.

“There you are,” Queen Cecille said archly. She stood like a soldier next to her husband, arms straight at her side, and Brinley thought of Jedrek and Ilona, similarly positioned three floors below. “Bad princess” was not the most enviable title, but at least she had not been forced into one of these starched roles.

“The announcement is due to be made in five minutes,” King Edric said. “You are to be a part of it. And you are to be at the party.”

“We just came to—”

“We’ll discuss this later,” he interrupted. “Let’s go. Now.”

They retraced their steps to the private elevator. Brinley was used to this feeling of chastisement, but it was clear from Finn’s stiff posture and the grim set of his mouth that he was not.

“You have only been with this woman a month,” King Edric said as they stepped in. He continued to face forward, not bothering to turn his head to address his son and ignoring Brinley altogether. “And already she has led you—”

“She is my wife,” Finn interjected.

“It does not matter. Jedrek has announced he will not renew the forestry agreement, and the kingdom of Bellida has agreed not to dispute the end of the contract. You were wed to solidify the agreement; now that there is no issue, there is no need to remain married.”

The elevator doors slid open silently on the main level, four guards flanking them on either side.

“No need—?” Finn began, but the king silenced him with a raised hand.

“Tonight is not about you, Finian. Try to remember that.”

The king and queen strode briskly down the hall, and as she watched them go Brinley could see them shaking off their cold facades and replacing them with bland smiles and regal countenances, the ones they presented to the world, if not their own son.

“Finn,” she said. “I’m so—”

“Please,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Are you very angry?” She had to hustle to keep up with him, and when he glanced over his shoulder and saw her rushing, he sighed and slowed his pace.

“Not with you, Brinley.” He took her hand and squeezed her fingers. Hers were still cold and he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, reassuring her. Very seldom had she asked someone if they were mad and had them honestly say they were not. She exhaled her relief at the same moment a flashbulb popped, cameras coming to life as they entered the corridor leading to the ballroom.

Reporters shouted their names but security guards swiftly intervened, escorting them through the throng and back to the room where the crowd had gathered to face the stage at the front. The table with the chocolate egg had been moved onto the stage as well, and now Jedrek and Ilona stood behind it as King Edric and Queen Cecille stood next to them, thanking the crowd for coming. There was a small pocket of elite press allowed in the room, and they were cordoned off to the side, video cameras and microphones ready to capture the big moment.

“And here they are now,” King Edric said, smiling indulgently as Brinley and Finn were led to the short stairs to the stage. “The family is complete.”

There was no trace of his contempt from a few minutes earlier, and Finn gestured for Brinley to ascend ahead of him. She did so carefully, schooling her features into the same resignedly dutiful and pleasant expression she saw on Ilona’s face. And because she was watching the princess, she did not see the white cord that snaked across the white stage floor, and she tripped.