The Bad Royals Box Set: The Complete Royally Unexpected Series, page 146
My little, safe life in Farcliff.
Empty.
Loveless.
Meaningless.
Tears fall down my cheeks as I sit in the office that Wolfe organized for me, and I feel like a complete failure. All I wanted from life was to never be a burden to anyone else. I wanted to stand on my own two feet—but it feels like all I’ve ever done is make a mess of every relationship I’ve ever had.
The hinges on the door squeak as someone pushes it open. My eyes widen when I see the Queen standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a deep blue boatneck dress, with her hair twisted into a sleek bun. Her eyes are sharp, bright aqua. The Queen steps inside the office, her presence filling the room from wall to wall.
I scramble to my feet, dropping into a curtsy and doing my best to wipe the tears off my cheeks.
“You can sit down,” she says softly.
Confused, I glance at her. Every image I’ve seen of her, she looks hardened and cold. She stands with her spine straight and her lips pinched—but now, in person, she looks soft. She’s shorter than I thought she’d be, reaching only to my shoulders, even in heels. I do as she says, sliding back down onto my chair. The Queen takes a seat across the desk from me, crossing her feet at the ankles and folding her hands on her lap.
She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re carrying Wolfe’s child.”
I gulp. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Sighing, the Queen leans back in her chair. Her eyes drift over my shoulder to stare out the window as I fidget in my seat. Even though I’ve spent the past six weeks with the Prince, I still don’t know how to act around other royals. I have a feeling the insolent flirting I did with Wolfe won’t exactly go down well with this monarch.
The Queen doesn’t seem to notice my squirming. She stares out the window, the light angling through it in a way that makes her pale skin glow like moonlight. With platinum blond hair and pale blue eyes, she looks like a Nordic ice queen. Still as a statue, the sight of her makes my mouth turn dry. Tilting her head, she studies me. “When I was growing up, my best friend was Abby Mansfield.”
“Wol—His Highness’s fiancée?”
The Queen dips her chin down. “She was kind, and soft, and funny, and her death shocked us all.”
“I’m so sorry,” I reply quietly, shifting in my seat.
“She was pregnant, too.”
My eyes snap to the Queen’s. “With his child?”
She nods. “No one knew until they did the autopsy.”
“I…I’m so sorry.” The world is spinning. Wolfe lost his fiancée and his first child that day? They both died in his arms. Oh, no—he never told me that. So the pain in his eyes when I told him about our baby…
“Wolfe took it hard.” Her eyes never leave mine. I try not to fidget as another bombshell is lobbed at my poor, broken soul. The Queen lets out a long breath, pinching her lips into a smile. “He almost seemed like himself these past few weeks. I thought…” The Queen shakes her head, not finishing her thought.
She pushes herself to her feet, and I scramble to stand. The Queen extends a hand to me. “I just wanted to meet you, is all,” she says. “I love the new design you’ve created. We can start the renovations in the spring, once the snow melts.”
I frown. “You still want me to finish the design?”
“You’re the best person for the job, and you’ve done most of the work already. Besides, firing you would only feed the gossip. The media team have decided not to address the controversy in the newspapers at all. Any official comment from the palace will only spur them on. I understand you’re leaving?”
I nod, a huge lump lodged in my throat. “Yes.”
“You’ll come back for the construction?”
“That depends…” My hand slides over my stomach.
Her eyes flick down to the movement, pain flashing across her face for the briefest moment.
“I’m keeping it,” I blurt out. “If I have to return during the palace construction, I’ll be eight or nine months pregnant. The media…”
“Of course. We’ll make arrangements for things to be done remotely if necessary.” The Queen walks to the door, every step graceful and measured. She turns to look at me, eyes soft. “If you need to visit the site, we’ll arrange for you to travel privately. I’m sure you’ll want to see your work when construction is finished.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I drop into a curtsy as my heart hammers. The Queen walks out of the office as my ears ring.
She knows I’m carrying Wolfe’s child. Why did she tell me about Abby’s baby? Was it to make me feel bad about leaving?
…Or was it so I’d understand why Wolfe left without saying goodbye?
Sadness crushes me. I sit down because it’s too difficult to stand. Everything hurts. I feel like I’ve taken Wolfe’s child away from him after he suffered such an awful loss four years ago, but at the same time, I need to think about what’s best for me and my child.
The Queen didn’t try to convince me to stay. She didn’t tell me to chase after Wolfe and follow him to the Summer Palace. The only reason she didn’t want to fire me was because it would look bad in the media.
Telling me about the Prince’s loss wasn’t some ploy to get me to feel sorry for him. Everything she told me was in order for me to understand the position of the palace, and make sure there was the least amount of controversy possible.
I’m not part of this world. Even though I’m carrying Wolfe’s child, I’m just a satellite orbiting around him. I’ll never belong here, and the best thing for me to do is leave. I knew that yesterday, and nothing has changed. I need to go—for all of us.
Sliding my hand over my stomach, I squeeze my eyes shut and draw strength from the only thing I know is true. I’m having a baby, and I love it with all my heart.
29
WOLFE
The Summer Palace is cold, and lonely, and desolate—and it feels like home. Days march on at a slow crawl as the wind howls outside and fires crackle in every hearth.
Chief stays by my side, and he’s my only anchor in a world that doesn’t make sense.
Twice, I’ve loved. Twice, a woman has carried my child. Twice, I’ve lost. Those words ring in my head like church bells every hour, on the hour.
I thought the pain of Abby’s death was the deepest cut I’d feel—but somehow, Rowan leaving feels worse. I know she’s somewhere south of here, living her life without me. I know our child is growing in her womb, and I might never get to meet it.
I could have her if things were different—but they’re not. She doesn’t want my life, and she’s not here.
It’s a painful, slow kind of torture to watch the seconds tick by, knowing I’m alone. I’ll be alone.
On a clear day in December, I take the dogs out to the visitor’s cottage. As soon as I get there, I’m wrapped up in my own sadness. I see Rowan everywhere. On the couch, where I first told her about Abby and she opened up about her mother. In the studio, where her eyes lit up. In the bedroom, where—
I turn away, shaking my head. That’s where everything went wrong. In that bed is where I crossed a line and allowed myself to believe I could have a better life. That I deserved happiness. That I might have met someone who meant something to me.
Naive. Stupid. Silly.
I turn around and throw my jacket back on, heading for the kennels. I’m back on the dog sled within minutes, returning to the castle.
Even with the wind whistling past my ears, and the blue bird sky singing above, I feel the weight of my own loneliness. The sled flies over hard-packed snow and the dogs huff in front of me, running fast as they were meant to do, but it feels empty.
It just reminds me of Rowan. How bright her eyes shined when she sat in the sled for the first time. The mischievous little grin on her lips when she threw a snowball at me.
How is it possible to lose so much in such a short period of time? I wish I’d never met her. I wish I hadn’t believed I could be happy, because this feels worse than grief.
The staff gives me lots of space. Even Eyvar is quieter than usual—if that’s even possible. They let me mope in the palace and spend time with my dogs, and I do my best to forget about the woman who plagues my dreams.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and soon, the mornings are brighter and the evenings are longer. I watch water droplets dripping down from the eaves outside my bedroom window, spying the first of the birds returning for the summer.
This place will be alive again, but I’ll remain dead.
In late March, a long procession of royal vehicles drives along the slushy road leading to the palace. My sister, or maybe one of my brothers, has arrived.
I pad through the silent halls to the front entrance, ready to greet them. I can’t quite put a smile on my face, so I don’t try.
What is there to smile about? Spring will burst into summer, and soon it’ll be winter once more. The world will keep turning, and I’ll keep standing still.
My sister emerges from the second vehicle in the convoy, a thick jacket wrapped around her slim body. She lifts her eyes to mine, dipping her chin down in greeting.
“Hi, Pen,” I say, too exhausted for formalities.
She puts her hands on my arms, squeezing. Her eyes search mine. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” I shrug her off.
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your broken heart.” She throws me one more glance, then brushes past me to walk into the palace.
You could say my sister is callous. Heartless, even, but I know the truth. She’s been hurt, too, and the only way she knows how to shield her pain is through a thick layer of frost. Who am I to try to change that? I’d rather hide away in the Summer Palace year-round than deal with my own scars. We’re more alike than I want to admit.
My sister’s heels click on the floors as she pulls off her gloves, handing them to a footman holding a silver tray out for her. When her jacket is stripped off, Penelope turns to glance at me. “Come to the office. We have construction logistics to discuss.”
Following my sister to the office near the palace library, I try not to think of what this will mean—constructing the design that Rowan spent months—years—working on. Erecting the building that came from her mind. Will I really want to live in a building she drew? Every aspect of this renovation will have Rowan’s essence soaked into it. I won’t be able to escape it. It’s stifling and exhilarating all at once.
When I sit down across from my sister, she nods to one of her personal staff members, who pulls out a laptop and a stack of large, rolled-up construction drawings. I listen as they outline the project’s timeline, various stages of construction, and expected disruption to the current palace staff and myself.
It’s beautiful. Rowan changed her design from a modern mansion to a full-scale restoration. The three-dimensional images she’s created make my heart swell.
Rowan gets it. She understands this palace—this land. In her design, I see how much she belongs here. When I first met her, I thought Rowan was an outsider. I thought she’d never feel at home here—but her design shows otherwise. She’s restored this palace to what it was a century ago, while still maintaining all the eco features and modern touches her original design boasted.
It’s fucking perfect, and it makes me want to cry.
Big, bad Wolfe indeed.
When the presentation is over, Penelope glances at me. “Any questions?”
“Rowan,” I croak. Even saying her name is painful. I haven’t spoken it since I left Stirling, and I try to ignore the burning pain that slices across my chest when I say it aloud. I blink, trying to regain control over my aching body. “Will she be here?”
Penelope interlaces her fingers and rests them on the desk. She takes a deep breath and finally shrugs. “I told her it was her choice. We’ll break ground before she comes up here, but we’ll need her approval for some of the later stages of construction. That can be done through photos and email, but…”
“You’ve been talking to her?” Am I jealous of my sister for that? This ache in my chest feels like betrayal.
Penelope arches an eyebrow. “I had to take over the project, Wolfe. You left.”
Shame burns all the way down my throat. I left, when I should have stayed. I should have fought. I should have told Rowan how I felt, but I lost my chance.
She might not even come up here for the project that was meant to be the defining moment of her career.
I took that away from her.
“I’ll leave,” I say to my sister. “Rowan should be here. She deserves to see this project in person.”
My sister’s face softens ever so slightly. She dips her chin in agreement, then the stone mask returns to her features. I stand up, take my leave, and walk out of the office.
My feet take me next door to the library, where once again, I’m assaulted with memories of Rowan. She spent so many hours in here, drinking up scraps of information that she poured into the design.
I stare at the ashes in the fireplace before letting my gaze drift to the window, where the sun shines bright and snow melts all around.
This is as much her palace as it is mine, but I’ll never get to share that with her.
30
ROWAN
My second trip up to the Summer Palace of Nord is very different than my first. Grandma and I are flown on a private jet directly from Farcliff to the airstrip a short drive from the palace. No cramped train ride with too-small seats. A private car is there to pick us up when we land, complete with a driver in a crisp black uniform who opens the back door of the car for us. He gives Grandma a warm smile as she greets him by name.
It’s the beginning of May, and there’s no howling gale outside. The sky is blue and although it’s still fresh outside, the snow is mostly melted and the whole landscape is green and lush. Only the tops of the mountains and particularly shady spots have remnants of snow still clinging to the earth. A bird sings in a nearby tree, and the air tastes sweet.
Settled in the back seat, Grandma threads her fingers through mine and I lean my head against her shoulder. She spent the winter in Farcliff with me, helping me prepare for the arrival of the baby. I’m thirty weeks pregnant now. I’ll be a mother in ten short weeks. Less than three months. Panic and excitement are still waging war within me, as they have every day since I found out about my pregnancy.
If all goes to plan, I’ll see the visitor’s cottage completed this week, and do some final approvals on details of the main palace design. I’ve been communicating with the site team via email and phone, but I’ve come up here to help with the millions of little architectural decisions that need to be made to complete the project. In a few months, both my babies will come to life.
I’m not sure I’ll get to see the full palace restoration. Maybe one day. By the time it’s finished, in September, I’ll have a new baby. My life will be different. Coming up to the Arctic Circle won’t be a priority. The Queen promised pictures, so that’s what I’ll have.
“There will be flowers everywhere in a week or two,” Grandma says, sighing happily. Her eyes shine as she squeezes my hand, shifting her gaze to the tinted windows of the royal vehicle.
The Prince was right. It’s very different here in springtime, and I can only imagine how beautiful the height of summer will be. I let out a soft sigh, ignoring the clenching of my heart.
I know I made the right decision. There were no paparazzi following me in Farcliff. After the first flurry of articles about my affair with the Prince, the gossip died down. Once I left, there was nothing to feed the rumor mill. My life went back to normal, but I felt far from the same.
Everything is different. I’ve gone to work every day, in the same office I left behind, but it’s like I’m seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. I see the awards I’ve won and the degrees hanging on my wall, but they don’t mean anything.
My baby means something. Everything. I spent every evening trawling through books and online forums about what to expect, preparing myself for every possible eventuality—yet still feeling completely unprepared.
But I’ve had Grandma with me, and she’s reminded me about the importance of family. Her presence, along with the baby growing in my womb, have shown me everything I’ve been missing.
Work doesn’t seem quite so important. Apart from the Summer Palace, I haven’t taken on any more projects. I’m planning on taking some time off once the baby gets here.
I still care about the business, of course. I still love architecture. It just doesn’t hold the same weight as it did before.
Plus, in a way, it feels wrong to think about another project while the Summer Palace design is still ongoing, like a strange, misplaced kind of infidelity. This palace deserves my full attention—or maybe I just don’t have the energy or desire to think of anything else. I cling onto the last thing that reminds me of…of him.
As the car drives up to the tall, wrought iron gates, I glance at the spot on the ground where I first collapsed. That’s where the Prince first saw me. Where he first held me in his arms and brought me back to life.
Have I ever been the same?
That moment, everything changed. I’ve been staring at my life through a kaleidoscope, wondering how I could have ignored all the beauty and color of the world around me. How did I exist with only work and business on my mind? How did I miss all the other things that make life worth living?
We drive through the gates, and my heart clenches. I slide a hand over my abdomen, smiling as my baby moves. I grunt, feeling a foot kick me in the ribs. My stomach bulges to the left as the baby shifts, and I rub my hand over it.
We’re home. Even after spending all winter in Farcliff, coming back to this palace feels like the homecoming I’ve always wanted. I belong here. This landscape took a piece of me, the Prince grabbed another, and my baby took the rest. There’s a chunk of my heart kept captive here, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.
