The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

She ducked her head, turning it so they could look at each other. “It seemed more invasive somehow. Reading about your life.”

“Fair.” He leaned back in his seat and looked up to the scoreboard. It was the fifth inning already.

He’d wanted to get her outside, out beyond the four walls of the hotel, but now, he only wanted to go someplace quiet and talk to her.

He stood. She cocked her head, peering up at him.

Holding out his hand, he asked, “Ready?”

Confused but game, she grabbed on to his hand and stood.

They shuffled through the row of chairs, murmuring, “Excuse me,” and climbed the stairs to the main level and then out of the stadium into the street. They walked aimlessly, hand in hand, through Wrigleyville.

Tristan knew Robert and Michael were following, but he appreciated that he couldn’t see them. If Robert was upset about the abrupt departure from the game, Tristan was confident he would hear about it.

“What do you want to know?” Tristan asked.

“Tell me about your family.”

“You know I have a lot of sisters.” At her nod, he continued, “Sheena, my mate, is the oldest. Clementine, the youngest, is nine. In between, there’s Caro—she’s twenty-one—Amelia is nineteen, Amanda is sixteen, and Chelsea is fourteen.”

“What was it like, growing up with all those girls?”

“I didn’t really grow up with all of them. I moved in with a host family when I was fifteen. I saw my family less—they couldn’t afford to see me often.”

He’d never really thought about it before. His sisters were his sisters. Crazy sometimes, sweet others. But he didn’t have a traditional relationship with them. How did you describe what was normal to someone else?

“My parents are teachers. Clem was born after I was gone. I think I’m more a long-lost uncle to her than a brother.”

“Was it hard?”

“What?”

“Being away from your family?”

Tristan rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “I never really thought about it. I wanted to be one of the very small percentage of footballers who made it.” A shrug personified his attitude toward the life he’d led. He’d wanted to play football, so he’d had to sacrifice some things along the way. He didn’t regret it. And his family supported him, which made it easy.

“Are you close now?”

“Sheena and me are tight. And I talk to my mom and dad at least once a week. I keep up with my sisters.”

He remembered the day he had gotten his first contract at sixteen. His family, lifelong Hartesfield United fans, was ecstatic. The sense of accomplishment an

d excitement he’d experienced in that moment washed over him every time he entered the pitch. He had this infinite awe he carried with him. He tucked it away, a wallet full of wonderment—his favorite currency.

“Playing football at this level, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I would have done just about anything to be able to do it. My family understood that and supported it.” His answer sounded defensive, even to himself.

“I was just asking. Are your parents much in love?”

He glanced over at her, trying to figure out where all this was going. “Yeah, I guess. A definite united front. My dad’s parents weren’t supportive of their marriage because my mother’s from Nava.” He gave it a quick thought before saying, “I think it made them closer. Kind of them against the world. What about your parents?”

“It was political union really. I think they respected each other, but I doubt they were ever in love.” It was her turn to be pensive. “I’m not sure you can be in a position like that—a country’s figurehead—and give yourself over to another person fully. Or at least, that’s the way it seems. There’s always some subtext going on, some motive governing every relationship.”

Tristan’s conversation with the crown prince came back to him. If Ele’s theory was correct, the prince had pushed them together for some reason other than his sister’s want. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers, the contrast of their skin color sharp. He hadn’t given any consideration to political machinations. He knew Rowan had probably analyzed this pairing from every angle and drawn conclusions. But Tris wasn’t open to hearing Rowan’s opinion on this. If there was something else at play here, he didn’t care.

The lightheartedness of the game faded, the mood between them introspective. Tristan wanted her to remember this day with fond memories of fun. He released her hand and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head, the abrasiveness of the hat making him laugh.

“We’ve got some time. Wanna shake things up a bit?” A picture of an angry Robert flashed, but Tristan was determined to see this through.