Shy Queen in the Royal Spotlight

‘We should make plans.’ He moved forward to her desk. ‘I need to contact the palace. You need to pack.’ He glanced over to where she stood worryingly still. ‘Or...?’

‘How are we going to end this?’ she asked pensively. ‘In a year. What will we say?’

He was relieved she wasn’t pulling out on him already. ‘I’ll take the blame.’

‘No. Let me,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re the King.’

‘No.’ He refused to compromise on this. ‘You’ll be vilified.’

Double standards abounded, wrong as it was, and he wasn’t having her suffer in any way because of this. He’d do no harm. And she was doing him a huge favour.

‘I don’t want to be walked over,’ she said a little unevenly. ‘I’ll do the stomping. Keep your reputation. Mine doesn’t matter.’

He stared at her. She stood more still than ever—defensively prim, definitely prickly—and yet she wanted to be reckless in that?

‘You’d sacrifice everything,’ he tried to inform her gently.

‘Actually, I’ll sacrifice nothing,’ she contradicted. ‘I don’t care what they say about me.’

No one didn’t care. Not anyone human, anyway. And he’d seen her expression change drastically when Fi had returned, so Hester was definitely human. She’d been terrified of his sister’s reaction—of her disapproval. Which meant she liked and cared about Fi. And she cared about doing the stomping.

Now he studied her with interest, opting not to argue. He’d had all the wins so far, so he could let this slide until later because he was totally unhappy with the idea of her taking the responsibility for their marriage ‘breakdown’.

‘We’ll finalise it nearer the time.’

She softened fractionally.

‘You know they’ll want all the pomp and ceremony for this wedding.’ He rolled his eyes irreverently, wanting to make her smile again. ‘All the full regalia.’

‘You really don’t think much of your own traditions, do you?’

‘Actually, I care greatly about my country and my people and most of our customs. But I do find the feathers on the uniform impede my style a little.’

‘Feathers?’ She looked diverted and suddenly, as he’d hoped, her soft smile peeked out. Followed by a too-brief giggle. ‘So, you really mean smoke and mirrors?’

‘It’s a little ridiculous, I’m afraid.’ He nodded with a grin. ‘But not necessarily wrong.’

‘Okay. Smoke. Mirrors. Feathers.’ But she seemed to steel herself and shot him a searching look. ‘You don’t think everyone will know the wedding is only for the coronation?’

‘Not if we convince them otherwise.’

‘And how do we do that?’

‘We just convinced Fi, didn’t we?’

‘She’s a romantic.’

‘So we give them romance.’ Fire flickered along his limbs and he tensed to stop himself stepping closer and seeing what kind of ‘romance’ he could spontaneously conjure with her. What he might discover beneath her serene but strong veneer. ‘Trust me, Hester. We’ll make this believable. We’ll make it brilliant.’ He cocked his head. ‘I think with some work we can look like a couple in love.’

Her eyes widened. ‘But there’s no need for us to touch.’ She sounded almost breathless with horror. ‘Nothing like that. We’ll be very circumspect, won’t we?’

Alek suppressed his laugh. His officials were going to love her, given how much they loathed his usual less than circumspect affairs. And if she presented this shy, blushing bride act to the public, she’d melt all hearts.

‘You mean no public displays of affection?’ he queried more calmly than he felt.

‘That’s right.’

Was she serious? ‘None at all?’

He keenly watched her attempt to maintain her unruffled expression, but tell-tale colour surged over her skin and ruined her proud attempt. But she didn’t reply and he realised she was utterly serious. So what about private displays of affection?

The fierce desire to provoke her came from nowhere and astounded him. The ways he’d make her blush all over? To make her smile and sigh and scream?

The immediate cascade of thoughts was so hot and heady, he tensed all over again. It was just the challenge, right? She’d initially told him no with unapologetic bluntness, while excoriating his social life. Now she reckoned she didn’t want him to touch her?

Okay, no problem.

Yet surely he wasn’t the only one feeling this shocking chemistry? The magnetic pull was too strong to be one-sided. Her colour deepened as the silence stretched and thickened. Of course she felt it, he realised, feeling a gauche fool. It was the whole reason for her complete blushathon.

Hester stared as he hesitated for what felt like for ever. Her whole body felt on fire—with utter and absolute mortification—but this was something she needed not just to clarify, but to make certain—iron-clad in their agreement. It suddenly seemed essential.

‘Okay,’ he agreed, but amusement flitted around his mouth. ‘I wasn’t about to suggest we practise or anything.’

‘Good.’ She finally breathed out. ‘That would just be stupid.’

‘Indeed. I don’t need to practise. I know how to kiss.’

Hester didn’t quite know how to respond. She wasn’t about to admit how totally lacking in kissing experience she was. That heat beat all over her body, but she counted breaths in and out, to restore outward calm at least. Inside she was still frying.

‘Because, just so you know, we will have to kiss. Twice, if you can bring yourself to agree.’ He gazed at her steadily. ‘During the wedding service, which will, of course, be live-streamed. We’ll need to kiss after the commitment during the ceremony and once again on the steps outside the church afterwards.’

‘Live-streamed?’ Her lungs constricted. ‘From a church?’

‘In the palace chapel, yes. It’s just the part we’re both playing, Hester.’

The palace chapel? It really was the stuff of fairy-tale fiction. As long as she remembered that was all it was, then she could go through with it, right? As long as she remembered what she could do for Lucia and Zoe.

‘Two kisses,’ she conceded briefly.

She was sure they’d be chaste pecks, given they were going to be live-streamed and all. Not even the outrageous Prince Alek would put on a raunchy show for the world with his convenient bride. There was no need for him to ever know she’d never been kissed before.

‘Do you think I can hold your hand at the banquet afterwards? Look at you? Smile?’

He was teasing her so she answered with even more determined seriousness. ‘Depending on the circumstances, I might even smile back.’

‘Depending on the circumstances?’ he echoed idly. ‘There’s a challenge.’

But he sat down at her desk, grabbed a blank piece of paper, borrowed one of her favourite pens and began writing. She watched, fascinated as the paper filled with small squares and a task or reminder beside each. Efficiency, list-making and prioritising? Who’d have thought? After a few moments he studied the list and nodded to himself before pulling out his phone and tapping the screen.

‘Good news, Marc. I’m to be married after all. I know you’ve had the wedding plans in place for months so now you can press “go”,’ he said with a bitter-edged smile. ‘We’ll journey home this afternoon.’ He paused for a long moment. ‘You think that’s achievable? Is that long enough for—?’ He paused again. ‘You flatter me, Marc, but if you’re sure.’ A few moments later he rang off. ‘We’re getting married in ten days and the coronation will take place in the week after.’

‘Ten days?’ Hester echoed.

‘I know, sooner than I’d have thought too. But it seems to have been planned since before I was born. It’s going to be a state holiday apparently.’ He scribbled more items on his ever-inc

reasing list. ‘They’ve got plans for everything—processions, funerals, baptisms.’ He glanced across at her with a laughing grin. ‘My obituary is already written. They just update it every so often.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘No. They’re prepared for everything. I think they thought I’d get killed in a plane crash or something a few years ago.’ He suddenly chuckled. ‘Don’t look so shocked.’

‘It just seems...’ She trailed off, wary of expressing her thoughts. But it seemed sad somehow, to have your life so meticulously planned, documented, constrained. Was it so surprising he’d rebelled against it?

‘Don’t you have every eventuality covered in your management of Fi’s correspondence?’ He gestured at her immaculate desk. ‘I’m assuming you’re a lists and contingencies person.’

‘Well, yes, but—’