The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

The town was as picturesque as Juliana had envisioned. Towering cliffs lined the coast and peacock-blue water beat against them in an age-old dance. But where the cliffs gave way to rolling hills, the harbor gleamed like polished silver. The buildings looking out over the water were matching pastel facades, plotted before building for maximum aesthetics. Juliana was charmed. Even the winter chill didn’t dampen their spirits as they strolled along the waterfront and ducked into shops. Whether it was the intention or not, they also sampled cava at every establishment they passed.

“So, why are you here?” Tatiana asked as the waiter opened yet another bottle. “Surely, with your money and your”—she paused and waved her hand up and down the length of Juliana, like she was a prize on a game show—“everything else, you don’t necessarily need an advantageous marriage.”

There was only a small votive candle on the table in front of her, but Juliana felt the heat and light of it, like a spotlight, as everyone’s attention turned in her direction. “The monarchy is not so very modern that it doesn’t look for ways to increase its holdings and influence.”

Tatiana lifted one shoulder in elegant agreement. “This is true. Everyone is always looking to expand their influence. I look to Insta. My father looks to marriage.”

They all laughed, and it was genuine. The camaraderie was foreign to Juliana. Friendships were difficult when your place in the world became one of your attributes. Without any whining, Juliana had understood this early. It hadn’t necessarily shaped her, but it’d made her cautious. She didn’t trust easily or hardly at all. She knew these women understood, and while it didn’t afford them trustworthiness, it gave them some latitude for honest answers.

“What is the young Barrington like?” Meena asked as she toyed with the small serving plate in front of her, twirling it around in a lazy circle.

Juliana was surprised when Lacy answered, “Handsome.”

Everyone at the table agreed with her. It was not a big leap, as Frederik Barrington’s appeal was quite universal. Tall, lean, but muscular, blond hair precisely cut, pretty eyes, nice lips. Nothing remarkable, but a handsome arrangement of features and the elusive sex appeal that some men wore as naturally as their smile.

“But indifferent maybe?” Lacy ventured.

“I might go as far as cold,” concurred Bela.

“Perhaps bored,” Juliana offered. But deep within, she settled on cold also.

The comparison was hard to deny. His demeanor reminded her of Rowan, a bit of fuck you sprinkled with disdain.

Meena shifted forward, dropping her elbows on the table and clasping her hands. “There are some unsettling rumors about our boy Frederik.”

Juliana’s interest was piqued, but she tried to keep her face neutral. “Such as?”

“More political than personal, I think,” Meena assured. “His ambitions and those of his father.” She cut her eyes to Juliana. “I would imagine it’s why you are here and probably a shoo-in.”

“Perhaps,” Juliana answered with a shrug.

Tatiana leaned in close, conspiratorial. “There are many rumors surrounding the Barrington family.”

Juliana almost blurted, What rumors? But she held back, waiting for someone around her to ask the question.

There were always reports, tales of royal folly. Juliana herself was one of those tales. Her grandmother had provided protection for her, taken away the power of any wayward gossip. But she would never be truly safe until her story was told. Until then, she was vulnerable. But now was not the time for weakness. Instead, she needed to fortify the walls around her. Rowan had unwittingly gifted her with an opportunity to write her own ending to her story.

“What do you know?” Lacy asked, curious.

Tatiana gave the café a cursory glance. “There’s another son. An older son who will inherit many of the titles. Not all of them,” she reminded, “but enough to make him relevant.” She leaned back in her chair, her smile wide and wicked. “So, maybe two of us will leave here with some piece of the Barrington holdings.”

Meena pulled the bottle from the ice holder next to the table and topped off the glasses. “It’s true,” she said casually. “There’s another heir. But no one seems to know who he is or where he is. I think that will change now. Barrington doesn’t go through this trouble to find a bride for his son. Frederik is what, twenty-nine, thirty? There is plenty of time for him to settle down yet. No, I think there is something else at work here. And one, or maybe two, of us is part of it.”

Juliana found herself in a precarious position. These women were more informed than she was. And she admired them for the worldliness. If this wasn’t important to her family, she would not be here; she would not know what they knew. Her grandmother was one of the most powerful women in the world, but Juliana hadn’t paid attention; in fact, she’d done everything she could to distance herself from the palace business. But she realized, she liked the intrigue. And she liked these women. They were insightful and intelligent. It added a complication to the bargains she’d struck—first with her grandmother and then with Rowan. She’d liked all the machinations before she liked the women she was competing against.

Plant seeds.

“There is another heir,” Juliana confirmed, confident it was the right thing to be honest with them about this particular morsel of information especially because they’d already agreed it was true.

“I don’t know if I believe it though,” Lacy commented. “Why would someone want to keep this particular identity quiet? Nobility. Titles. And in the Barringtons’ case, money. There aren’t many aristocrats who can claim all three of those things.”

“Yes,” Tatiana agreed. “Your family is impoverished, yes?”

Juliana snorted cava through her nose. She grabbed a napkin and attempted to mute her guffaw.

But Lacy merely nodded. “Yes, this is true. Title and land, but no money.”

Meena picked up her glass, and everyone else followed. “To worthless titles,” she toasted.

With understanding smiles, they raised their glasses and sipped.

Bela looked to Juliana. “I’ve seen a lot of Navan flags here. Do you see them in the capital?”

“No.” Juliana answered honestly.

She had been bothered by this. Many of the Navan flags waved during the parade. Because each province celebrated in their own way, it hadn’t even occurred to her that something was not right. But today, in windows and on boats, painted on walls and hanging from balconies, the Navan flag was everywhere. This spirit of separation, of being apart from the country, troubled her. There was an edge here somewhere, and Juliana was realizing that their country was teetering on it.

“I don’t think this has to matter to us,” Bela remarked. “We are here. We have drinks.” She shrugged. “We have good women.”

“And more importantly,” Meena added with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “we have a casino.”

Juliana returned the look, mischief in her gaze, before she remembered she was already gambling.

Just not with money and for greater stakes.