Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored him after he asked to come into my room. It had seemed like the best plan at the moment, though I have to admit I’m regretting it now—especially since he gave up on me so easily.

Of course he gave up...you’re the one who told him to leave.

I’m not about to sulk over his disappearing—it was my decision after all, and he had merely agreed. Instead, I walk over and take a seat on the small sofa in my sitting room and pull out the new computer the royal family has so generously provided me. I should try to think about how to start my story—Andrew’s story. We really should have talked this through today, but he’d been such a dick at tea that I hadn’t wanted to see him afterward—and he clearly hadn’t wanted to see a commoner like me until he was tired enough to need me to help him sleep.

I think about his story for a few moments. There are so many different angles he could choose—so many different ways he can do this. I don’t normally write stories like this—I’ve covered more than my share of celebrity drama over the past five years and more faux-reality than I care to admit. But even when I’ve been assigned to cover some scandal that was started by a publicity agent, it hasn’t been this sort of work-for-hire arrangement that I have with Andrew. Even when I’ve suspected that something was a stunt, I still wrote about the incident as though it was a news story. I’ve never made anything up. I’ve never needed to write fiction.

Maybe that’s the difference in what’s going on here. There are dozens of celebrity relationships—if you can even call them that—arranged by publicists. It’s all done with a wink and a nod—the reporters know those couples probably aren’t actually dating, but they all put on a good show and we write about it because it’s what the public wants.

With Andrew—I know. I know the whole thing is a sham and something about being dragged into it the way I was still pisses me off. If he had explained his plan to me before we left Los Angeles, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have agreed to come with him at all.

But I suppose when we were in Los Angeles he hadn’t really thought of this stupid plan yet—the whole pageant thing was hatched as part of his delirium when we were both so dehydrated we’d almost died. That is the only reasonable explanation for this dumb stunt.

But there was something else—there is something else going on that he hasn’t told me about yet. Some coming drama or political quagmire that he’s refused to tell me about. The one and only reason we’d had to come to Montovia in the first place. Something he knew was coming and that he knew was going to hurt him in the eyes of the public.

As much as I want to come up with headlines tonight—or at least possible story angles—I’m having trouble concentrating. And I know it’s useless to go try and sleep alone in the huge bed. It isn’t as though I’m going to get a wink of sleep without Andrew holding me in his arms.

I really need to do something about that. Maybe I can get Elle to prescribe me a sleeping pill or something—

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on my door.

I try not to hate myself too much for the fluttering that starts in my stomach and moves up into my chest. The almost giddy feeling at knowing he came back for me—that he’s as lost without me as I seem to be without him.

Pathetic.

I shake my head, deciding it’s worth ignoring that pitiful part of me that seems to need him, telling myself instead that it’s only temporary. As soon as I can land some sleeping pills or something, I’m not going to need him at all.

I have to clench my jaw to keep from grinning as I walk over to the door. I only crack it open again, thinking I’m going to make him plead a little more before I just let him back in.

But it isn’t Andrew on the other side. It’s his sister, Sophia.

She grins. “Hi, Victoria. I know we’ve only met a few times and the last time I saw you was forever ago.” Her smile widens. “And this is a really weird question, but…” Her voice trails off and she presses her lips together, barely covering her smile. “Would you care to go for a walk?”

My brow furrows. “A...walk?”

She nods. “Just a short one, I promise. I know it’s late and you’re probably—” She interrupts herself—maybe Andrew told her about our trouble with sleeping after the crash. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Is this some sort of joke? Because I’m not really in the mood—”

She shakes her head, interrupting. “I swear, it’s not a joke. I just remember you telling me something when we met a few years ago and then I saw something tonight that I think you might be interested in. That’s all.” The smile returns to her face. “So what do you say? Are you up for a walk?”

I study her face for a moment. I know Sophia is the family prankster—always ready to lighten the mood with a joke. It might have something to do with her place as the fifth child of the family—or perhaps she’s the way she is because she’s the only girl. But I know her reputation, and something tells me she’s come to make me somehow earn my keep as the butt of one of her pranks.

I frown. “I’m not sure I’m up to it tonight, Sophia. Maybe another time.” It might be fun at some point to go through this sort of family initiation, but considering the day I’ve had today, I just don’t want to.

She grins. “Andrew will be there.”

The butterflies start up again in my stomach at the mention of his name. I almost ask her why she didn’t tell me that in the first place, but then think better of it. Instead, I cover up the smile I can already feel forming on my lips and shake my head, pretending to be exasperated. “Fine.”

I leave my room and begin walking down the corridor with her.

She hooks her arm through mine. “I saw how he looked at you when you came home from that ghastly trip, Victoria.”

I lift a brow, but don’t turn to look at her. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean.” She’s quiet for a moment, not speaking again until we make our way outside.

We start to walk toward the smaller buildings in the distance. “You know, Colette and my lady’s maid are quite close.”

I don’t say anything, but it’s pretty obvious where this conversation is going.

“And I think it’s positively delightful that Andrew has taken a liking to you, Victoria. You’ve always been so kind to my mother and she simply adores you. And you’ve always been very fair to me and to Leopold in your stories.” She stops suddenly, turning to me. “I’m not sure that Andrew is the brother of mine I would have chosen for you.” She grins, lifting a brow playfully. “I would have likely chosen William.”

I smile. “I don’t think I would have chosen any of them.” My smile falls. “I hope that it doesn’t sound like I’ve somehow chosen Andrew. Because that is not how it is at all. He hired me to write a news story and after our plane went down…” My voice chokes a little at talking about the ordeal. “After that, he decided it was time for him to get married.”

“So I’ve heard. My mother and father were having quite the row about it this evening. If I might be so bold as to say so, I think Andrew is an idiot.” Her grin widens. “And if you like, you may use that as a quote in your story about his search for a bride.”

I nod, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he would love that.”

She laughs. “He probably wouldn’t notice. He rarely notices a thing when it comes to me. I’ve spent much of my life trying to get my eldest brother’s attention, so if a quote like that will finally allow me to accomplish that goal, I would say it will be worth every bit of his disappointment in me.” Sophia turns back onto the path, hooking her arm around mine again. “What I want to show you is just up here.”

We walk to a well-lit building, stopping in front of it.

“I was out for a walk and I saw the lights on, so I came over. When I saw the two of them, I thought about going around the back to turn off the main electrical breaker and make them find their way out in the pitch darkness—the gymnasium doesn’t have any backup lighting and the windows are tinted, so they wouldn’t get any of the light from outside, either.” She laughs. “But then I remembered what you told me when we met…” Her smile falls a little. “I suppose I also wondered if you had shared that information about yourself with Andrew.”

I’m only barely listening, watching the two men with their épées. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Andrew might know how to fence—not that he would have shared anything like that with me. And definitely not that I would have shared anything about my own history of participating in the sport with him.

“I think you might…oh, how do you say it in America?” Her smile widens. “Kick his ass?” She nods. “I thought that would be a much better way to embarrass my eldest brother than watching him try to find his way out of a dark building.”

I smile, but I know there’s no way I can go in there. He wouldn’t believe me—or probably care—even if I did.

But I don’t get a chance to wonder—Sophia links her arm with mine again and practically drags me into the gymnasium.

She stops us in front of some practice equipment, motioning for me to put on the gear.

I shake my head. “I can’t. Really. I haven’t touched one of these things in seven years. That part of my life is…” I’m almost shocked at the near-sob that comes from my throat. “Over.”

She pulls down a chest protector and hands it to me before she pulls a mask from the shelf.

I don’t even know what I’m doing—I slide the thing over my head, fastening it around my waist and take the mask from her. I shake my head again, keeping my voice low. “What if you and I—”

“Oh, no. Father would never let me near the fencing lessons he made my brothers take. Something about a bullshit tradition from the eleventh or twelfth century, no doubt.” She smiles again. “I imagine William might be a better match for you.” By the way her smile falls a bit and her eyebrows lift after she says it, I can see that the double meaning was every bit intended.

“I imagine he would be.”

She nods. “Shall I ask Andrew to leave with me so that you may engage William?”

I shake my head slowly. I already know which brother I want.

She looks into my eyes for a long moment. Her voice drops to almost a whisper. “I knew by the way you looked at each other when you arrived home yesterday.”

I say nothing—there’s not really much I can say. I’ve been denying my feelings since…I can’t remember when. I’m pretty sure I realized something was flittering inside me when I sloshed into the water to try to find him after the plane went down—something was definitely there inside me when I turned around and saw him walking back from the forest with the armful of branches. And it was much more than relief at not seeing him floating face-down in the water.

I wonder when it was for him?

I could kick myself for thinking that. Even if he does fence—even if this is something we might actually have in common—it still doesn’t matter. He’s still going to be choosing noblewomen tomorrow to be the contestants for his little game show.

I set the mask down for a second, tucking my hair into a makeshift bun before I pick it up and slide it over my head. Sophia pulls me toward the door to the main gym and swings it open. It’s a room built for fencing practice, just like in the gym I practiced in every day when I was in college. There’s more practice gear on the far wall.

It takes a moment for the men to notice us, but they stop what they’re doing. Andrew pulls his mask up, cocking his head in confusion.

Sophia grins. “William, I wonder if you might come and help me with something? It’s urgent.”

I’m not sure why William believes Sophia, given her history, but he pulls off his mask and chest guard and walks over to hang them up before walking over to us. He hands the épée he’s been using to me and I walk in as the other two walk out.

I imagine they’ll be standing in front of the tinted windows in a few moments, but I don’t care. I walk over and take my place across from Andrew.

He still hasn’t flipped his mask back down and I can see the confusion on his face. “Victoria?”

I flip my mask up, saluting him with my épée, though I say nothing else to acknowledge his bewilderment.

He shakes his head and holds up his own épée in salute.

We both flip down our masks at the same time. “En-garde,” I call and begin my attack. Andrew doesn’t even take a defensive posture and I touch the middle of his chest with my weapon. “Point.”

“What are you doing, Victoria?”

I say nothing—I merely take a different line and attack again, scoring easily. “Point.”

He straightens, flipping his mask up to reveal his face. “You can’t fence.”

My jaw tightens and I glare at him through my mask. “On the contrary, Your Highness, it would appear that you can’t fence.”

“I don’t understand.” His brow furrows deeply. “What are you doing?”

“Attempting to fence. Considering you haven’t even taken a defensive posture, Your Highness, I think I’m the one who should be asking what you are doing.”

“Women don’t fence, Victoria.” He lifts his mask off and shakes his head.

I motion at him with my épée. “Put that mask back on and I’ll show you that women most certainly do fence.”

He frowns, but puts the mask back on and lifts his weapon into an attack position. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Hm. I think that maybe you don’t know what you’re doing.”

He shakes his head again and makes a move to attack. It’s a weak move—I easily parry and make my own attack, scoring another point.

“Point to you, Victoria.” He almost growls the words before he takes another attack position. He moves more forcefully this time, but again, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before and is pretty amateurish, considering.

I barely have to engage him before I score another point.

He lowers his épée and looks at me for a moment before he pulls his mask off. “It would seem I owe you another apology this evening, Ms. Simpson.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his free hand as he bows deeply. He straightens after a moment. “It would appear that you do know what you’re doing.”

I lower my weapon and pull off my mask, looking across at him.

“Do you care to explain, Victoria?”

“Explain what?”

He gives me the smallest of smiles. “How you have come to know the pastime of fencing—”

“The sport of fencing, I’m sure you mean.” I lift a brow. “My uncle was an Olympic fencer. He taught me everything I know, which was enough for me to get a scholarship to Northwestern. So I could go to one of the best journalism schools in America. And it might have been enough for me to qualify for the Olympics myself if…” I stop myself from saying anything else. I’ve said too much already, and that is not a story that I will be sharing with Andrew.

“If...what?” The same confused look has come back over his face.

“If nothing. It just didn’t work out, that’s all.” He doesn’t need to know the rest of that story. I finished my degree and that’s all that really matters about that particular issue.

“I see.” He stares at me for another long moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? That I used to fence in college? How would I have worked that into the conversation, Andrew? Somewhere between which noblewoman will make you the best wife and why journalists are detestable vermin?”

He shakes his head and walks over to the wall where the other practice equipment is held and sets his mask down on the shelf before he hangs his weapon up. After he pulls off his chest guard he turns to me. “You should have told me.”

I roll my eyes. “Why? So you could tell me that commoners don’t belong in the sport? That because of its long history, fencing is the domain of royals? That—”

He narrows the space between us in an instant and pulls me into his arms, even though mine are still full with my equipment. “You should have told me because it’s something I would have wanted to know.”

“And how am I supposed to know what you want to know, Andrew? How am I supposed to know anything you want in the way of brides or—”

I don’t get another word out before his lips press against mine and he kisses me as hard as I’ve ever been kissed.