Even now, months later, thinking about that night makes my stomach tighten. I should have known back then that there was no way of running from it forever, that I couldn’t simply call it “a valuable life experience” and push it to the back of my memory. Part of me had hoped it would have a way of working itself out, the way Leopold’s mistakes usually do—but then I remembered in Leopold’s case, I’m usually the one following behind him to clean up his messes. There’s no one to do that for me.

I sigh and rub my forehead. My head hasn’t stopped aching since the plane crash—I hope it’s exhaustion and hunger, nothing worse.

“What happened, Andrew?”

I jump. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten Victoria was here with me. I’m gripping her hand so tightly I’m surprised she hasn’t said anything. I loosen my hold.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I tell her again. “In Montovia, nowhere else.”

She shakes her head, clearly not understanding why I’m being so stubborn about this. But in spite of my growing respect for her, I still don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone.

“So my brother and Elle are expecting,” I say, trying to turn the conversation away from me and my mistake.

“I didn’t realize they hadn’t said anything to you yet,” she says.

“Honestly, they might have. I’ve just been preoccupied.” I rub my head again. “On the other hand…no, I would have heard something. My father would have been beside himself. I would have never heard the end of it.”

“Your mother knows,” Victoria says. “Elle told me she figured it out on her own.”

“My mother would,” I say. “And I can’t say I’m surprised they’re keeping it quiet for now. Leopold has hardly recovered from the last scandal.” God, my brother can’t go two weeks without causing trouble. I pray William and Nicholas don’t take after him, though I think my hopes might be in vain. It’s already too late for Sophia, I suspect. “Who knows—perhaps this is exactly what Leopold needs to turn him around. Maybe he’ll finally learn to take some responsibility for his life.”

“From what Elle says, I think this might be exactly the thing,” Victoria says. “I know things have been a little crazy with them, but they really do love each other. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I have to admit—my brother’s affection for Elle seems genuine, and far more intense than anything I’ve ever seen in him before.

“The first royal baby,” I say, shaking my head. Even though we believed for a short while that Leopold was the father of Lady Karina’s baby, my brother made it clear he and the lady had no intention of marrying. But Elle and Leopold are engaged—and, I suspect, planning to tie the knot before the baby arrives—which means their child will officially bear my family’s name.

Victoria is watching me. “Did you think you would be the first to have a kid?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” I admit. “But yes—I suppose I assumed I’d be the first.” I release her hand. “Of course, it’s different in my case. I will be king, and my child will be the next heir. I have a duty to marry in the best interest of Montovia.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Like an arranged marriage?”

“Not exactly,” I say. “But my marriage will inevitably have political implications. Whoever I marry will be queen of Montovia someday. That’s not something to take lightly. The choice is mine to make, but I can’t marry just anyone, no matter how I might feel about her.”

“What do you mean by ‘just anyone’?” Victoria asks.

“I mean I have to consider that this woman will be helping me rule a country one day. She needs to be someone the country will love and accept and someone the world will respect. She can’t be some woman I found on the street.”

Victoria’s eyebrow goes up. “Is that a roundabout way of saying she can’t be a commoner?”

“No,” I say. “But certainly a woman of status—or at least one who has experience wielding political power—might be better suited to the sort of life she would be leading as my wife.”

“Wow,” Victoria says, leaning back against the wall. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but that still sounds pretty backward to me. And like it sucks for you.”

“It’s my duty to think about my country above all else,” I say, frowning. “You might see it as unfortunate, but I see it as an honor. It was what I was born to do, and given the choice, I would make no other.”

“That sounds like a miserable recipe for a marriage, though.”

“That’s another reason why it would be preferable to marry a woman who already understood the responsibilities expected of her. Any woman I marry would gain plenty of advantages from the arrangement, I assure you. And just because our match would be partially dictated by politics doesn’t mean we couldn’t be happy or have a genuine affection for each other. I wouldn’t marry someone if I thought the arrangement would make either of us miserable.”

“Well, you’re a stronger person than I am, because I couldn’t do it,” Victoria says. “Tell me—what exactly would your wife’s responsibilities entail?”

“She would be a representative of Montovia, the way all members of my family are. There’d be social and political functions for her to attend, of course, as well as other similar duties. That will all expand when she becomes queen.”

“Elle doesn’t have any political experience or noble blood,” she points out. “But she’s marrying into your family.”

“Elle won’t be queen. And her eldest child won’t be the heir.”

Victoria’s frown deepens. “What if your wife doesn’t want kids?”

“That isn’t up for negotiation,” I say. “I wouldn’t force it on her, of course—I just wouldn’t marry a woman who didn’t want children. It’s the duty of me and my wife to produce heirs and continue the family line.”

“What about your siblings?”

“What about them?”

“They could continue the family line.”

“Traditionally, that’s not how it works.” I sigh. “I don’t expect you to understand this, Victoria, but trust me, I do not make any of these choices lightly. You might call my country’s traditions ‘backward,’ but I might say the same of certain customs here in America. I’ve known what was expected of me since birth, and I’ve never wanted anything else. I love Montovia, and I will serve it until the day I die. The opinion of others matters little to me.”

“If they don’t matter, then why do you need my help?”

I rub the side of my face. “They don’t matter insofar as they affect my commitment to my responsibilities. But if the reputation of Montovia is at risk, then I will do what I must to protect it.”

She doesn’t seem to have a response to that. We fall into silence.

Finally, I say, “We should try to sleep.”

She nods. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall, trying to force my body to relax. I don’t expect to get much rest tonight—especially now that Victoria is right beside me—but I must try.

Victoria shifts beside me, trying to find a comfortable position. After some time, she falls still, and then a few minutes later, her breaths become slow and steady.

I open my eyes, looking down at her. The moonlight falls across her face, making her look younger. Almost innocent. A far cry from the stubborn woman who’s spent much of the past two days arguing with me.

I meant what I said to her—I don’t expect her to understand my commitment to my duty. But for some reason, deep down, I wish she would. This is my life. The driving force behind everything I do. Every choice I make comes back to my country.

Carefully, I reach down and place my fingers lightly on Victoria’s dark hair. The moment I touch her, she stirs, and I freeze—but her eyes don’t open. A moment later, her breathing becomes slow and regular again.

Even dirty, her hair is so soft beneath my fingers. I don’t let my touch linger, though—I’ve already promised myself I’d stop thinking about touching her, and I certainly don’t expect her to understand if she wakes and finds me caressing her, even in innocence.

I pull my fingers away and lace my hands together, hoping to stifle any future urges to reach over to her.

It’s a long night. I don’t sleep at all—between the hunger and the discomfort and Victoria’s nearness, it was always a lost cause. Eventually, I hear the birds start to wake outside.

Beside me, Victoria is still breathing steadily. She hasn’t moved in some time. Slowly, quietly, I climb to my feet.

I make it two steps before I hear her voice behind me.

“I told you not to bother trying to sneak out.”

When I turn, Victoria is sitting up, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

I straighten my shoulders. “I’d prefer not to argue again—”

“Then don’t. I’m coming, whether you like it or not.” She climbs to her feet, and even though she tries to hide the pain she experiences when she puts weight on her foot, she does a poor job of it. “As I told you yesterday, if you go without me I’ll just come after you. And then you’ll just be the asshole prince who left the poor injured girl to hobble along down the road by herself.”

Her stubbornness is truly starting to exasperate me. As much as I admire her determination, this can’t be allowed to continue.

“You realize you’re only going to slow me down, don’t you?” I say. “We’ll have help much faster if you allow me to go on my own.”

“I don’t care,” she says.

“What do you mean, you don’t care?” I demand. “This isn’t a game, Victoria. We’ve been without rescue for two nights now, and I’d rather not endure a third.” Not when she’s sleeping right next to me—I don’t think my body could bear another night of that. Not to mention the fact that the media has probably learned of my disappearance by now, which will only complicate my already complicated situation. We need to handle this quickly.

“You have food and water here,” I remind her. “You’ll be safe. And you need to rest your foot, unless you want to make things worse. If you can’t see that, then I can’t help you.” I march over to the door. “Follow me if you like, but I won’t be held responsible for your stupidity.”

My hand has closed around the doorknob when I hear the soft word behind me.

“Please.”

I turn. Victoria is looking at me pleadingly, and there’s something in her eyes I haven’t seen before. Something almost…vulnerable.

“I know it’s stupid,” she says. “But please don’t leave me here alone.”

“Victoria—”

“I know I’ll only slow you down. I know I’ll probably just make my foot worse. But that’s better than sitting here all day, wondering if anyone will ever come for me.”

I frown. “Of course someone will come for you. You have my word that I will send—”

“And why should I trust your word when you refuse to trust mine?” she says. “You won’t even tell me the story you hired me to write. And forgive me, Your Highness, but our current situation is a little more desperate.”

I search her face, trying to understand where her fear is coming from. “Do you honestly think me capable of leaving you here? Of not sending help the moment I can?”

“I don’t know,” she says, closing her eyes. “Just please. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

There’s something deeper going on here, something I’m not sure I can begin to understand right now. But looking at her, hearing the plea in her voice, I find my arguments breaking down. Yes, she will slow me down. Yes, I could do this better without her. But at the same time, I can’t refuse her.

“Fine,” I say. “You can come. But we need to leave as soon as possible. It’s still a fair distance to that town, and we need to do everything in our power to reach help before sundown.”