I. Hitched

It happened on a lone, narrow road between two towns with nothing but a grass field on one side and a cemetery on the other. No one was visiting dead loved ones at this time of day, not that anyone was alive to do it, anyway. The graves were hundreds of years old. With people now just throwing bodies in incinerators, they weren’t so keen on buying a patch of land.

Hands on my hips, I stared down at my bicycle and sighed. Squinting my eyes against the midday sun, I looked down at both ends of the road. Few people used this road since the highway opened. “I’m doomed,” I said.

Bending down, I picked up my bicycle by its handle and started walking.

“We’ll take our time, my friend,” I said. “If I’m meant to be there, I’m meant to be there.”

Not long after the words left my mouth, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Shuffling through the pleats of my skirt, I pulled it out and flipped it open with my chin.

“Good day, Mother,” I greeted, wincing at the pain at in my shoulder.

“Where are you?” I could picture her sitting in the restaurant, fiddling with her earring. “We’ve been waiting.” And I could picture my twin sisters sitting on either side of the table, their eyes glued to their phones. In a much lower voice, my mother added, “Your father is getting restless. You know how he gets.”

“I’ll be right there. Just landed on a bit of a problem.”

“What happened? Are you okay? I told you not to get that bicycle.”

“I landed on my side and now the bicycle is not…” I frowned down at my yellow two-wheeled darling. “She’s having a temper, I guess.”

“Where are you? I’ll have Bill pick you up—”

“Hello? Mother? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Bad reception!” I lied over the mouthpiece. “I’ll be there!”

“Joey, do be serious. This is not a typical family dinner—”

“Mother? I’m sorry, I can’t really hear you. Say my love to everyone. I’ll see you soon.”

I snapped my phone closed and threw it in the basket of the bicycle.

This was not the first dinner my family arranged since I packed my bags and left the family home. But there was something different about this one. I could feel it. My mother typically never checked in on me daily to remind me about it. And my father never called me to make sure I didn’t forget to come in normal fashion.

I stared down the road and groaned. Then, with a wince, I felt my arm. I might have dislocated something, I thought. Looking over my shoulder, I glared as though I still had sight of the hole that caused the accident.

And then the miracle.

It was black and glinted against the sun. And it was fast.

I rose on my toes and stopped and waved my good arm.

The car slowly drew to a stop. The window rolled down and a man in suits and a pair of sunglasses smiled at me. He looked older, probably the same age as my father. And he had a kind smile, one that was almost mischievous…but not in a creepy way.

“Good day,” he greeted. “Trouble?”

“Flat tire,” I said.

“What happened?”

“Small hole in the asphalt—with a screw sticking out of it.”

“How can we help?”

We? My eyes jumped to the passenger side and instantly, all hopes flew out the window. The younger gentleman, who looked maybe a year or two older than me, was far from looking interested. He did not even take his eyes off his phone. He had black hair with gentle waves, his nose too straight a pea would roll on it so easily. His jaw and neck, however, drew my interest—sharp angles with smooth transition. I could picture myself molding those in a clay.

I could not tell much about his eyes, but the lashes were interesting. His brows might be a problem, however. Too curvy— frown-ish . And his lips, too. They were thin and set tight. He looked like someone who would not appreciate posing in front of people for hours, even though he looked like someone who barely moved.

Which led me back to my first conclusion—this man would not lift a finger to help me.

But I still had to try. “I’m wondering if you can give me a lift to town?” My gaze jumped between the driver and his passenger. Two men in suits: one looked kind like sunshine and pretty meadows with butterflies, the other like the gravestones in the cemetery behind me—dead and unbothered.

The driver turned to his companion, who did not look up from his phone as he murmured, “You left us no choice when you stopped the car, Von.”

The driver awkwardly laughed and turned to me. “We’ll be glad to take you to town, Miss.”

Surely, there were many warnings—supported by thousands of news articles and police reports—against hitching a ride with strangers. But I was in—as my father would call it—a normal attire. There was no way I would walk all the way to the next town in a long skirt and two-inch heels.

The driver popped the trunk open and made a move to get out, but I said, “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

I had been to the gym a few times, once each time I enrolled, and the bicycle was not that heavy. I winced when it caused a ruckus as I dropped it inside. That scratch was there before, right?

When the trunk refused to close because the hind wheel was sticking out, I walked over to the driver’s side and said, “It won’t close.”

“Leave the bicycle,” the man in the passenger seat said.

I blinked and considered my options. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave me with my bicycle, then,” I said. Smiling at the driver, I added, “Thank you, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine,” the driver said, throwing his passenger a look. “I’m sure we can drive with the trunk half-open.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Of course! Hop on.”

“Thank you,” I said, running to the trunk to grab my bag before hopping onto the backseat. “Again, thank you, gentlemen.”

“At your service, Miss,” the driver said as the car started moving. “I’m Von.”

“I’m Joey,” I said.

An awkward silence followed as we waited for the passenger guy to speak.

“He’s got a name. Just not willing to share it,” Von said, laughing as the younger man threw him a sharp look. “Where are you off to, Joey?”

“You can drop me at the plaza,” I said, cautious. Now, I just had to make sure they did not do something stupid before we reached the next town.

“Good weather today, isn’t it?” Von asked.

My gaze flew to the rearview mirror, but could only see the passenger’s reflection from where I sat. “Yes. Are you in town for business or pleasure, Mr. Von?”

Von chuckled as his passenger tore his eyes off his phone to glare at him. “Both, I guess?” Von replied.

“I hope you enjoy your stay. Mansfield, the town we’re heading to, has a lot of great stuff to offer,” I said, already opening my bag. I secured my pepper spray beside my leg before pulling out a dust bag. “I hope you don’t mind if I do some lady stuff back here.”

The passenger’s brow furrowed as he met my gaze in the mirror. He said nothing, but I could hear the question loud and clear.

“I’m meeting my parents,” I explained. “I forgot to tell them I dyed my hair.”

“Your hair looks great. I’m sure they’ll approve,” Von said.

Von’s passenger, however, did not look like he agreed.

I pulled out the wig from the dust bag. “They don’t also know I cut it short.”

“Well, as I said, your hair looks great.”

“Von,” the younger passenger said, breaking his silence. “Focus.”

“Right,” Von said.

The passenger returned his gaze on his phone and I focused on putting the brunette wig over my head. I meant to put it on in the toilet once I arrived in The Cottage, but since I was in a vehicle with a room, why not?

When I was done, I zipped my bag and held on to the pepper spray, hiding it under my knee-length skirt, and then got distracted when I saw the tear. Clucking my tongue, I tucked it between the folds.

We were entering the town now, and the plaza was just five minutes away. I cleared my throat and blindly fixed the edge of the wig along my hairline.

At that moment, the passenger looked up again and met my gaze. I broke into a smile. “How do I look?”

I thought he would continue to ignore me because he looked too eager to get rid of me, but as we neared the plaza, he broke his silence and said, “There are pink strands poking out.” I reached up to feel with my fingers. “Right temple.”

“Thanks,” I said, tucking the strands under the wig as Von slowed the car.

“Is this the place?” Von asked.

“Yes. Thank you so much, gentlemen. Have a pleasant stay in town,” I said, opening the door. “Don’t worry about the bicycle. I’ll get it.”

A man walking by helped me pull the bicycle from the trunk. As soon as I closed it, the car drove away, and I waved goodbye.

I crossed the street, pulling my bicycle along beside me, and walked two blocks toward The Cottage, where two familiar people were waiting outside.

“Where have you been?” Karen demanded under her breath as she freed me of my bag. “He’s very impatient.”

“He’s always is,” I said, turning to Bill. “Can you take this somewhere?”

He clucked his tongue as he studied the flat tire. He and Karen shared a look and a flash of random memories came back to me. They had been around long enough to witness many of my adventures with my sisters, and they were also there to witness the aftermath of the said adventures.

Bill sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Karen, who acted more like an older sister toward me whenever we’re alone, pulled me away from the bike. “Go inside,” she said as Bill took my bike away. “Wait,” she said, stopping me with one hand. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“Why?”

She frowned. “It looks weird.”

“It’s a wig.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, her eyes wide. “Your mother will—”

“Fix it for me, will you?” I interjected.

Karen sighed. While I smoothed my skirt to hide the tear, she adjusted the wig, changing the hairline to the side to make it look more natural. “It still looks weird.”

“I know,” I said, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “My new hair looks better—”

She closed her eyes and held up her hand. “Oh, God, please, don’t tell me you still did it—”

“Ash pink with the best fringes.”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it,” she said with a dramatic shiver.

I laughed, and as I walked away, she caught my hand again. This time, her expression was serious. Concerned, even. “Karen? What is it? Did something happen? Is it Marie?”

She shook her head. “Your sisters are not here.”

“Why?”

“This is a different family dinner.” She squeezed my hand. “So, whatever happens inside, you have to stay calm.”

It was my turn to frown. “Why?”

She looked torn. She opened her mouth, then closed it again with a shake of her head. “Just remember to stay calm.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “You’re scaring me. And that look on your face is silently telling me I should be scared.”

She shook her head. “Just remember what I said—stay calm. And whatever they tell you, ask for one thing.”

“What?”

She held my gaze and gripped my hand tightly. “ What’s in it for me? “

“What’s in it for me?”

“Yes. But say it with more confidence.”

I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. “Like ‘What’s in it for me?’”

Karen nodded. “Yes. And never lose eye contact.”

“And who do I look at as I say it?”

“Your father, of course.”

“Right.” I swallowed and looked at the entrance of Mansfield’s oldest restaurant. “You’re making me nervous. What’s this about? Just tell me.”

Karen looked like she wanted me to strap her in a chair and cut her fingers just so she could tell me everything. “Your life is about to change, Joey,” she said. Although her voice was etched with worry, her eyes were firm and defying. “And before it does, secure the best deal of your life.”

---

Author’s Note

Hello! Yes, it’s finally here. The rewrite of my very old story, The Prince and the Duke! This story will officially start here on Wattpad on June 1st. However, it is an ongoing story on Patreon with 8 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

II. Best Deal of My Life

Secure the best deal of your life.

The words echoed in my head as Joan, the hostess of The Cottage, led me away from the main dining area of the restaurant and into a private suite upstairs.

“You look different today, my lady.”

I grumbled under my breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“You’re wearing bloody heels.” She slowed her steps and whispered, “What’s this dinner about?”

“I don’t know.”

She frowned at me. “Are you wearing a wig?”

“Shut up.”

“But I just saw you two days ago—”

“Shush!” I said, stopping outside the door to cover her mouth. “I’m going inside and you’re not staying here to eavesdrop.”

“She mumbled something behind my hand.”

“What?”

Ripping my hand off her mouth, she asked, “But you’ll tell me all about it later, right?”

“Yes. Now, go before you lose another job.”

Joan stepped back and gave me a dramatic curtsy before walking away with a laugh.

I turned to face the door and did a quick survey of my clothing: the tear of my skirt was between pleats, my wig was in place, and the brunette strands of the said wig concealed the scrape on my shoulder.

My hand grabbed the handle, paused, and counted in my head.

One…

Two…

“…not until we hear what she has to say.”

My hand froze on the handle when I heard my father’s voice.

“You know she’s in a delicate state, Damian. For God’s sake, she is finally happy again,” my mother said.

“I know that. But we’re the only people who can help the crown. We have a responsibility. She has a responsibility.”

“She’s our daughter!”

“Don’t look at me like that, Catherine. We already discussed this. I know she will do her royal duty.”

My mother was quiet for a while. “Of course, you do. You know she will not say no. You know, and you still agreed to it! You’re taking advantage of her weakness.”

Before my father could reply, I opened the door and burst in with a smile. “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, walking over to my mother, who looked away to hastily wipe her tears. I kissed her cheek and turned to my father, kissing him, too. “And I’m fine,” I said before either of them could say a word. “Just a bit of a tumble on the side of the road. Karen said the twins are not here, so I’m guessing they either did something serious or this is about something serious.”

I settled down across from them with the most awkward smile. My father, Lord Damian Duke, Earl of Ross, who sounded distressed just a few seconds ago, looked nothing like it. In fact, he stared at me with his icy blue eyes as though nothing bothered him. “What have you done to your hair?”

“New blow dryer. I know it’s not my best look, so please, no comment…” I said with a shrug. My eyes flew to my mother, who had a look of helpless resignation on her face as she sighed and shook her head.

I looked around the table. A charcuterie board, five sets of crockery, and a bottle of wine, which my parents nearly emptied.

“Do we have guests?”

“Yes,” my father said, clasping his hands on the table. “They’re arriving soon.”

I shifted in my seat. “Okay…?” I raised my brow, my gaze jumping between them.

“Johanna,” my mother started, clearing her throat before she continued. “As you know, I am half-Gavarian.”

I nodded, my heart beating so fast against my chest, although I had no clue where this was going. Karen’s words reverberated in my head: Your life is about to change, Joey. And before it does, secure the best deal of your life.

“And I’m sure you have heard of the current conflict between Gavaria and Sutherland.”

“About the islands?”

She nodded. “Verford, yes.”

“Sutherland believes the Verford islands are theirs, and Gavaria claims they came there first,” I said. “Why? What’s up? Will there be a war?”

“This is not the time for jokes,” my father said.

“Well, they make it sound like we’re going to war.”

“Not if we can help it,” he said. “For centuries, our family has been one of the few who benefited from the Verford islands,” my father said. I didn’t know why he had to tell me about this. Everyone in the family knew our great-great-grandfather’s history. He was one of three Sutherlanders who built the first coal mines on Verford.

“Gavaria also has their own mines in Verford,” my mother continued. “They own—”

“Where are you going with this?” I interrupted. “Are you saying our family can stop the conflict?”

They both nodded.

I sighed. I knew they were slowly trying to lead me to the true reason for this dinner, but it was just a little too slow. “And?” I asked, cocking my brows. “How do you do that?”

“ We, Johanna,“ my father corrected. “You are part of this family.”

“And I have a feeling I am the solution, too,” I said, staring at them.

My mother, bless her, looked like she was about to burst into tears, but my father ruled the emotions in the room as much as he led the conversation. “You’re right.”

I leaned against my chair. “What do I have to do? Since I am a quarter Gavarian, I should marry into the Gavarians who run half of Verford?” I asked with a scoff.

“No,” he said. “You’re marrying the prince of Gavaria.”

Instantly, my stomach twisted. My fingers stiffened, and my heart stopped. If I was joking, he wasn’t. Not that he ever did.

“Johanna,” my mother started, tears brimming her eyes, but I closed mine to shut them off.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” I said through my teeth. Behind my lids, I could see red because I already knew what they were going to say.

Growing up in my family’s world, I knew that an arranged marriage was not something we could just escape. It was not something we did on a whim. It was far from the romanticized version of movies or dramas. It was more than the lavish wedding gowns and the famous guests. The vows were not between two people, but between two groups of greedy monsters. The promise was not love and devotion, but political and economic alliances.

“It’s not,” my father said. My eyes flew open, and I glared at him. “The king ordered it, Johanna,” he finished, jaw tight.

The king.

Who could defy the king?

At this age and time, anyone could defy the king. But not us royals.

Especially me.

There were better ladies from the family tree. My father was not his only cousin, nor was I his only niece. The king chose me because I could not say no to him.

A silent conversation passed between me and my father. He knew he only needed to mention the king.

If there was anyone in the royal family who would do anything the king asked, that would be me. I would even rest my neck on a guillotine if he asked me to.

“I know this is unfair, sweetheart,” my mother said, but I raised my hand to silence her, my own tears burning at the back of my eyes.

Was this not what I had been waiting for all these years? To finally pay my dues?

“If the king asks for it, I will do it,” I said, breaking my silence.

My mother looked heartbroken and helpless. This was not the life she wanted for me. I could not stare at her for too long because I did not want to pity myself at that moment.

“Are we meeting them, then?” I asked, staring at the two empty seats around the table.

“We don’t have to now if you need time,” my mother said. “We can reschedule—”

“I think Johanna would rather face this now than later, Catherine,” my father interjected, his eyes locked with mine.

I nodded and slowly stood. “Tell them we’re ready,” I said. “I’ll just freshen up.”

The powder room was just across the dining suite. I locked myself inside and swallowed against the tightness in my throat. I took a deep breath and shook my hands as I stared at myself in the mirror. My blue eyes, almost black under the light, glistened with unshed tears.

“A life for a life, Joey,” I said to my reflection.

I closed my eyes and inhaled until my lungs hurt, then, slowly, I let it out, feeling my shoulders relax.

This is it, Joey. It finally came. No more waiting.

Karen’s words echoed back to me: Secure the best deal of your life.

Marry the prince of Gavaria. I swallowed. A fucking prince.

Not the punishment I was hoping for, but I’d take it.

I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “Best deal of my life, here I come.”

I walked out of the powder room and entered the dining suite, only to find that the two seats were already taken. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the two people sitting across from my parents. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but I never met her before. The younger man, however, was a totally different story.

“Johanna,” my father said as he stood, his face impassive as he righted his suit. “Allow me to introduce Empress Suzanne of Gavaria.” He gestured to the woman. “And her son, Prince Dominic of Gavaria.”

My eyes jumped to the prince, who stood as soon as his name was spoken.

My father smiled as he finished, “It’s my pleasure to introduce our daughter, Lady Johanna Duke.”

The young man finally faced me and froze, looking as stupefied as I was.

What in the bloody hell?

---

Author’s Note

Hello! Yes, it’s finally here. The rewrite of my very old story, The Prince and the Duke! This story will officially start here on Wattpad on June 1st. However, it is an ongoing story on Patreon with 8 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

III. I Want the Pickett House

I did not know how they did proper etiquettes in Gavaria. I was not sure if they curtsied or not, but I did, anyway.

“Your Majesty,” I murmured, although my eyes stayed on the prince. “Your Imperial Highness.”

“You have a beautiful daughter, Lord Damian.”

My gaze veered to the empress, who sat at the head of the table. To her right was my father, and to her left, my mother. And beside my father was the prince.

The empress smiled at me as I stood there, unmoving. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of giant white shell earrings, probably made of mollusk shells, cut and intricately arranged into a lotus flower. It was quite stunning, and so was the woman wearing it.

She might be a little older than my mother, probably in her fifties. She had curly brown hair, tied loosely, so it framed her face. Her dress was royally generic—cream, clean cut, decent neckline. If I were to describe her, she looked like a Greek goddess statue.

“Johanna,” my mother said, breaking her silence.

I looked in her direction, and she motioned for me to sit beside her, across from the prince.

Bloody hell.

Prince Dominic was still standing, staring at me as I approached my seat. I smiled at him, and together we sat down. I was acutely aware of our parents studying us, so I maintained the smile and the proper posture. Now that I could see him more clearly, I realized there was not much difference. He still looked the same, whether from outside his car, from the backseat, or across the table. Except the eyes, which I now realized were brown.

“We suppose you do not know each other yet,” Empress Suzanne said, her voice musical and warm. She reminded me of the lake near our summer estate in Islefield—beautiful and serene.

“No,” Dominic and I chorused. Would you like at that—not yet married and we could lie together.

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “And you have certainly not met each other, of course.”

His eyes studied my wig before he said, “No.”

“No, we have not,” I said, stretching my lips into a brighter smile. “If we did, I would have not forgotten.”

“Johanna has missed many royal functions in the past years,” my mother explained, although she did not really have to. These people were not Sutherlanders. They didn’t care.

The door opened, and as our meals were served, the silence reigned in the room like torture. I looked at Dominic, who stared back at me. His face gave nothing away as he sat erect, his hands hidden under the table.

“I hope everything is well with the emperor,” my father said when the servers left. “We were told he would join us.”

Dominic tore his eyes off me and stared at my father. “He sends his apologies, my lord. He wanted to be here, but there are important matters of the state to be dealt with first.”

After I got over his surprisingly lilt accent, I frowned. The emperor did not consider his son’s marriage an important matter of the state?

“But he will find time to visit Sutherland soon before the wedding,” Dominic added with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

He spoke fluently and carried himself with confidence and grace. So far, he was perfectly checking all the boxes in etiquette. He probably dined and slept with rules, too. I wondered if he would dare bend them.

Highly unlikely, I thought. It was probably why he was here. He was a willing tribute for international peace and all the crap about free trade and alliances.

“And he will be at the wedding, of course,” the empress said.

The wedding.

No one even bothered to formally announce to me and Dominic that we were to be married. Everyone just assumed we knew. It didn’t matter that I only found out five minutes ago.

Empress Suzanne veered her eyes toward me. “Dominic freed his week for you, Johanna.”

I cleared my throat. “Truly?” What for ?

“Yes. He wishes to get to know you more.”

My eyes flew to Dominic. “But I have classes.”

“We can arrange things at Langhorn,” my father said.

“I have assignments due this week—” My mother gripped my hand under the table, and I quickly smiled. “But I will find time.”

“Perfect,” the empress said. She looked around. “Shall we eat?”

“However,” I could not help but speak. My father threw me a tight smile, and my mother silently pleaded with her eyes. I ignored them. “I would very much want to know when the wedding will be.”

Empress Suzanne softly chuckled. “I was thinking we will discuss that over tea, but since you asked, the emperor and the king agreed that the wedding be held in time for the Fest of Solidarity.”

I froze. “That’s in three weeks.”

“Yes. There’s no better time to unite than the Fest of Solidarity, which honors the first union between two royals from Sutherland and Gavaria.”

I knew about the Fest of Solidarity, which came about after the union of King Emory I and Princess Florence of Gavaria. But everyone knew theirs was a story of love, perhaps the only one among royal marriages.

“You will have enough time, Johanna,” my mother said. Her smile meant to comfort, but it was just awkward as hell. “You dress is almost ready.”

I blinked at her, feeling utterly betrayed. I looked around the table in disbelief. How long had they been planning for this bloody wedding behind my back?

“Is something wrong?” Dominic asked.

My gaze flew to him. He looked genuinely concerned, but it might be all bullshit.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” I said, using every muscle in my throat to keep my voice from shaking. Directing my tight smile at my parents, I added, “No one told me.”

My father looked away. My mother tried to hide her panic with a smile. The empress looked a little confused. “Well, to be fair, I did not know I was marrying the emperor until the night before of,” she said with a chuckle.

She was crazy if she thought I would be amused. “I’m sorry,” I said, clearing my throat. “I need to go to the powder room. If you may excuse me.”

“Of course,” the empress said, her eyes following me as I stood. For the briefest moment, her gentle mask slipped, revealing that there was more to her serene and beautiful surface. Again, she reminded me of the lake in Islefield. It was serene and beautiful, yes, but it once swallowed an entire village during a storm.

Her dutiful son stood as I walked to the door. My hand shook as I turned the handle, and my legs felt like rubber as I slipped into the powder room.

Three weeks.

I’m getting married in three weeks!

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. “This is better than a death sentence, Joey,” I murmured. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection. “Be thankful he seems decent. But is he? What if he gets another wife? Oh, God, he’s Gavarian. They can take multiple wives. But that will be good, right? If he took a second wife, I won’t have to deal with him that much. But then, I would have to deal with the wife.”

The series of knocks on the door made me jump. “Yes?” I asked.

“Everyone is waiting,” Dominic’s voice said from outside.

“What?” I asked, opening the door.

He stepped back from the doorway. “Everyone’s wondering what’s keeping you.”

“What’s keeping me?” I asked with a scoff. “How about the bloody fact that I am getting married in three weeks?”

His brows, naturally in perfect shape, twisted. “You truly did not know it would be in three weeks?”

“I did not even know I’d be married until I got here.”

He blinked at me in surprise. “You cannot be serious.”

“If I knew, I would not have dyed my hair pink,” I hissed under my breath.

He studied me for a moment. “If you’re thinking of backing out, it would be nearly impossible.”

“Unless you back out,” I said, hopeful.

Dominic firmly shook his head. “That is not happening.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you carefully consider it?”

“There was no need.”

Did he always talk like he was reading a passage from a textbook?

The sound of footsteps from the other end of the corridor made me look. Joan had her head bent as she fixed her suit uniform. In panic, I grabbed Dominic’s hand and pulled him inside the powder room.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I shut the door and locked it.

“It’s my friend. She works here,” I explained, leaning against the door. He took a step back, placing a distance between us with a quizzical look on his face. I stared at him wryly. “I want to keep this part of my life secret,” I said, motioning with my hands.

“Your friends don’t know what you are?”

“Only two, but that’s all they’ll ever know,” I said. “They can’t know about this marriage. That’s condition number one.”

“Condition?”

“Since you lot deliberately excluded me from the marriage meeting, I have to be compensated. I have conditions.”

He scoffed. “I’m not the person to talk about that.”

“You’re the person I’m marrying, so you tell your father about my demands.”

He placed one hand on the marble counter and stared at me with interest. “Very well. I’ll hear your demands.”

“Number one: Complete secrecy. No one can know about this marriage.”

“Not possible. I’m the second son of the emperor. Everyone will have to know.”

“Then no one can know about me .” Before he could argue, I hastily added, “There is a royal order that my name cannot be on the press. That includes Gavaria.”

“There is no such thing.”

“There is, and I’d be happy to tell you about it. In fact, there’s a list of names the Sutherland press cannot publish a story on.”

“Why?”

I looked away and shrugged. “Safety and privacy stuff.”

He slowly nodded. “Fine. There will be no mention of your name in the Gavarian press.”

“That leads to number two: no press at the wedding.”

Again, he nodded. “I agree. The royal press can handle the announcement.”

“Good. Number three: I want separate bedrooms.”

His lips twitched every so slightly. “Everything that happens in our marriage can be discussed at a later time.”

“Four: I’m not going to live in Gavaria. I’m not leaving Strait.”

He frowned. “I don’t think my father will like that.”

“Then there are more people who don’t like things about this union. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

His lips formed a straight line. “I have a life in Gavaria.”

“And I have mine here in Sutherland until you lot decided to mess with it.”

He sighed. “I will discuss your demands with my father.”

Joan’s words echoed in my head: Secure the best deal of your life.

Blast it. If I were to sacrifice the rest of my life, I might as well make the best out of it. “Five—”

“How many are there?” he interjected.

“If I’m sacrificing the rest of my life to royal duty? As many as I want. Five: I want the Pickett House.”

He blinked at me a few times. “The Pickett House?”

I nodded. “It’s up for sale and I’ve always wanted to live there.”

His lips pursed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“No,” I said. “You have to say yes.”

He sighed. “Fine. We’ll get the Pickett House.” His phone ran. As he fished it out of his pocket, he asked, “Is there a number six?”

“Certainly, but it can be discussed tomorrow.”

He canceled the call and scrolled down his messages. “I’m not free tomorrow.”

“Your mother said you freed your entire week—”

He looked up from his phone. “I did, but I have not scheduled you until Wednesday.”

I scoffed. “Scheduled me?”

He did not reply for a while as he typed on his phone. After he was done, he dropped it back in his pocket and faced me. “List down everything you want and we’ll discuss it on Wednesday.”

“I want a studio in the Pickett House—”

“We will discuss everything on Wednesday,” he interjected patiently. “Can we go back to the dinner, please?”

My jaw tightened. His lilt accent was too hard to hate. It made him seem… tolerable.

“Fine,” I said.

“Good.” He stared at me for a while, then nodded. “Fix your…hair. It’s slipping off,” he added before he walked out and quietly closed the door.

---

Author’s Note

This is an ongoing story on Patreon with 11 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

IV. Scheduled Wednesday

Three days later and I could hardly convince myself that I was betrothed, or that night I met the empress and Dominic even existed. The only proof that it did was my new bicycle wheels. It was nice of Bill to get me new wheels with yellow spokes.

I could not also tell why I was grinning as I rode away from my little apartment in Mansfield. Maybe the devastation would come much later, when my rotten brain realized my future was doomed to royal duty.

The reason for my satisfaction, despite being a future princess of Gavaria, was the Pickett House. I rose on my heels on the bike as I made a right turn. The trees that lined the driveway opened up to the two-hundred-year-old brick house. The front doors nailed shut, the four front windows shattered and boarded up. The paint of the four columns that lined the facade were cracked and peeling off. Ivies curtained the upper floor windows.

This house was as old as my grandfather’s estate in Islefield. It had been witness most of Sutherland’s history. It may look battered and worn out, but it didn’t matter to me.

It would be mine soon.

I circled the property once, excitedly planning what I would do with the backyard. And then I rode out and back out in the narrow street, my smile growing wider as I passed the cemetery. I pedaled harder, slowing down a few times to rest, until I reached Newcrest.

I took my bike across the park and emerged into back into the street that led to Langhorne University. I steered through a crowd of students crossing the street and continued down the road to Garden Cafe, where I parked my bike and went inside.

“You’re late,” Clarisse said when I entered the kitchen and grabbed an apron. Then, her eyes widened when I pulled off my cap. “No, freaking way.”

I grinned and winked at her. “I wanted ash blonde, but then I remembered you,” I said, eyeing her straight bob.

“What did your mom say?”

I checked the orders on the board and murmured, “I haven’t shown her yet.”

“Joan said you had dinner three days ago.”

“I wore a wig.” I laughed as I grabbed a tab and worked on a sandwich.

“Well? How was it? The dinner, I mean?” she asked, working beside me.

“The usual,” I lied. I would rather die than tell anyone about the betrothal. “I have a one o’clock class. Can you cover for me?”

Clarisse sighed and shook her head. “What can us peasants do?” She waved at the sandwich. “You don’t actually need this job. You’re just here for free tea.”

I ignored her and walked away to serve the order.

We had little time to talk after that as more people walked in, which I was grateful for. Clarisse and Joan were the two people in my circle that I trusted the most. I rarely lied to them, too. They knew where I came from, and so far, they had been good at keeping my royal life a secret.

However, I was not ready to tell them about the betrothal. Being a daughter of an earl was nothing to being a wife of a prince from a foreign land. If I wanted to keep this part of my life—my friends, school, my work—I had to hide Dominic and his side of the family as much as I could.

Nothing had to change, really. And Dominic seemed to be fine with that.

We’d get married, I’d get Pickett House, he’d return to Gavaria, and we’d go our separate ways until the next family gathering.

By one, I said goodbye to Clarisse, promising to meet with her and Joan later for beer and chips, then went off to class.

Langhorne University was one of the largest and oldest in Sutherland. It used to cater to male aristocrats who wanted to study law, but as time went on, it opened to other disciplines such as arts. While many things changed throughout history, such as the admission of female students, the walls and halls remained the same, which I liked.

It gave me pride to be able to walk through its corridors, which were once only dominated by the male species. History echoed down its halls, but the voices of the new age hummed in every corner.

“Have you found someone?” Pete, another friend and tormentor, asked as he rushed the halls with me.

“No,” I said. “I’ve been looking at people and all I see are jaws and chins and necks. I’m obsessed.”

“I’ve been looking at people and all I see is Theodore Hamilton. I’m wildly obsessed.”

We stopped as a group of male students dashed across the hall with no shirt on, their faces painted, howling the Langhorne hymn.

Pete smiled as one student smiled at him. “As I said, Theodore Hamilton,” he said, blinking away from the group of chiseled torsos. “Should I ask him?”

“You mean ask his girl?” I asked with a laugh. “And risk social ruin?”

He groaned. “Why does he have to be involved with Jacqueline Duville?” he asked. “Just imagine those jaws, that neck, those beautiful collarbones… He’s perfection.”

“There are better ones,” I said, flipping my hair. “Have you noticed something?”

Of course, he didn’t. He was looking down his phone, scrolling through photos of Theodore Hamilton, the blond god of the polo team. “He’s attending the Solidarity Party. Should I wait until he’s drunk enough and get his consent? I can use his photos are reference.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and flipped it open. My mother.

“Yes?” I answered, stopping outside my class. Pete closed his phone and finally took a good look at me. His eyes widened when he saw my hair and mouthed, “Wow!”

“Honey, I know you have class, but the modiste is outside your apartment as we speak.”

My smile completely vanished. “What?”

“The modiste. She needs to take your measurements.” When I did not answer, she added, “Your wedding gown?”

“I thought you said it’s almost ready?”

“They have to check the measurements.”

“I’m at school.”

“They can meet you elsewhere if you like—”

“No!” I interjected strongly. “Tell them to wait for me. I’m on my way.”

Ending the call, I said to Pete, “I have an emergency.”

“You’re skipping class?”

I answered with a wave as I ran away. In less than half an hour, I was back outside my apartment, where I found two ladies in suits waiting for me.

“My lady—”

“Let’s be quick,” I breathlessly said, leaving my bike against the brick walls of my apartment unit. I opened the door and let them in.

My mother called one more time to check in on me while the two ladies took my measurements and agreed murmured to numbers to each other. When they were done, I asked, “Can I see it?”

“See what, my lady?”

“The gown.”

They stared at each other. “The Empress said that she would like to see the final look before anyone can.”

“You have to be kidding me.”

Again, they stared at each other before one of them awkwardly cleared her throat and said, “Gavarian tradition dictates that the bride cannot see the gown before the wedding.”

“You have to be bloody kidding me.”

They bowed their heads in apology. “We cannot break protocol, my lady.”

I watched them leave with mouth hanging in disbelief. When the door closed, I looked around my tiny apartment and found my white Persian cat staring at me with boredom from his spot by the window.

“Can you bloody believe it?” I asked.

Cloud just turned away and pressed his face against the window to watch the two women climb inside their car.

“You’ll understand when you meet her,” I said, throwing my bag on my desk.

Dropping onto my bed, which was just a step away, I stared at the ceiling, no longer keen on heading back to Langhorne. Maybe my fate was slowly dawning on me, after all, because the unsettling feeling crept through me, and suddenly, I felt like I had to do something, but also I didn’t know what.

It was all too familiar—the alarm brewing, with full-blown panic at its tail.

Before it consumed me, I pushed away from the bed and snatched my bag. Then, I pedaled straight to French Head Pub, which was obviously empty, but Didi, the bartender, was not at all surprised when she saw me.

I went straight to my spot in the corner. As I sat, Didi slid the mug of beer across the table and stared down at me. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I murmured, taking my sketchpad out of my bag. “I’m meeting Joan and Clarisse.”

“Too early for your usual beer date,” she said, retreating with a smile.

I just gave her a look and she laughed. Two hours later, I had filled my pad with all different versions of noses. Another hour later, Joan and Clarisse finally arrived.

Joan slid beside me. “Did you just get here?”

“Not five minutes ago,” Didi said as she set two mugs on the table. I sent her a silent look of gratitude and she winked. “Chips will be right up.”

“You have to tell us about the visitors,” Joan said to me.

“Which visitors?”

“The ones you dined with!” she said.

I gave her a look. “Stop acting like you don’t know who they were, Joan.”

“Fine. Tell us why you were dining with the Empress of Gavaria and her son.”

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, looking around. The pub started to fill up an hour ago. “They’re friends with my father, that’s all.”

“Why are they in Strait?” Clarisse asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re just touring, I guess.” Before they could bombard me with more questions, I added, “Look, I didn’t even know they’d join us for dinner. And this is not the first time someone not family joined us for dinner.”

Joan looked unconvinced. “I saw him, you know,” she smiled. “He’s hot.”

I sputtered.

“You consider anyone young and royal hot, Joan,” Clarisse said with a laugh.

I laughed with her, glad the conversation was steering.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. To keep their attention away from me, I took it out and flipped it open.

Calendar Invite.

I frowned as I pressed the button.

Dominic invites you to an event: Meet-up, Wednesday.

I blinked at the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Clarisse asked.

“Her phone,” Joan said with a laugh. “I was thinking of getting her a smartphone the other night, but then I remembered I’m poor.”

As they laughed, I stared at the three available responses:

Yes, No, Maybe.

I pressed the right button:

Maybe.

He was serious about scheduling me, wasn’t he?

As I moved to close my phone, it lit up with a message from an unknown number.

Why maybe?

I scoffed and typed my reply:

Why give options?

I saved his number as Wednesday and took a gulp of beer. Didi brought our chips and another mug for me.

My phone lit up again.

Wednesday: I’m not free on other days.

I closed my phone without sending a reply. Joan and Clarisse were discussing their plans for the holidays. I tried to listen, but half of my brain was somewhere else. While they swam at the beach and hiked up a mountain, I’d be in a wedding gown marrying a prince.

Another notification.

Wednesday: We can only meet Wednesday. I’ll pick you up at six in the morning.

Again, I ignored it, smiling at my friends as they argued about the weather for their trips.

Another message.

Wednesday: I got the Pickett House. Negotiation is in progress with the owners.

I broke into a smile. Leaning back into my seat, I typed my reply:

Then it’s ours?

Wednesday: It will be ours.

Me: Good. I’ll meet you at Pickett House on Wednesday at 8.

Then I closed my phone, threw it in my bag, and grabbed my beer in silent celebration.

---

Author’s Note

This is an ongoing story on Patreon with 13 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

V. Wednesday Prince

Clarisse: Don’t think you got away. Fill us in about the prince.

I stared at Clarisse’s message and sighed. Closing my phone, I stared at myself in the mirror. Not bad, really. Perfect ash pink hair, good freckle-and-blush ratio, and a perfectly buttered piece of toast stuck between my lips. I threw my phone to the side and tore my toast. Chewing, I smiled, proud of myself.

I turned, grabbed the glass of milk. Cloud jumped on the table and watched as I finished my breakfast.

“Should I leave you here?” I asked him. “I know you love this place.” I looked around and sighed. “We both do.”

He stretched and loafed on the table, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “I guess I’ll have to make you number six.” He closed his eyes as I scratched his neck. “Now, be a good boy,” I said as I stood. “Mama has some business to do.”

I grabbed my phone, bag, and keys. I waved hello to my neighbor, Mrs. Bayford, as swung my leg over my bike. “Wonderful day, Mrs. Bayford.”

She just stared, lips twisting as her eyes judged me through her thick glasses. Without a word, she turned away and resumed weeding her plant box. I sped through my quaint neighborhood, greeting everyone I passed, and as I rolled away, my smile wavered.

It was slowly sinking in that I would be leaving this place in three weeks.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and let out a sigh. On the brighter side, I would be be so far away. I’d be in the Pickett House.

It was almost eight when I exited Mansfield, and five minutes past the meeting time when I rolled down the Pickett House driveway. I saw the black car parked in front. Von, the driver, leaned away from the door and met me with a smile.

“Good morning, my lady,” he greeted, smile bright, eyes glimmering with amusement. “It must have been fate that we met before we officially meet.” I chuckled as he bowed. “Von Polalli at your service.”

“Hello, Von,” I said, jumping off my bike. “How are you doing?”

“Not as terrible as my master,” he said with a laugh. “He’s at the back.”

“Ah, and there goes my day,” I said with a dramatic sigh.

We laughed, and he asked, “May I?” waving a hand at my bike.

“Yes, please,” I said. Before I left, I stopped and looked at him. “How long have you known him, Von?”

“You mean the prince?” I nodded, and his smile mellowed. “Since before he learned how to ride a bike,” he said, tapping the handle of my one vehicle.

“His enemy is your enemy?”

“Always and forever, my lady.”

“Then I should be careful,” I said, playfully narrowing my eyes at him.

I walked around the house, hands in the pockets of my linen pants. The wind blew my hair back as I emerged into the backyard.

His back was at me, his hands behind him as he studied the giant oak tree in the middle of the yard.

“Six: my cat comes with me,” I said, breaking the quiet.

He turned on his heels, surprise in his face when he saw me. “What?” he asked.

He was not so bad-looking, I thought, but he just didn’t fit the environment. The way he carried himself, and the way he dressed, made him fit a marbled throne room, not some weed-infested backyard of a dilapidated brick house.

“My sixth condition. I get to keep my cat.”

“Fine,” he said, turning to face the house. “This place needs work.”

“Restoration,” I corrected. “I don’t want something new.”

He slowly nodded, and an awkward silence fell between us as he faced me again. Hands clasped behind him, he cleared his throat and stepped closer. “We have to discuss a few things.”

“I figured,” I said. “Do you also have conditions?”

His lips twitched. “Not yet.”

“Let’s take a walk,” I said. “I get restless when I’m still.”

I heard him sigh as he followed me around the oak tree. “I understand that our marriage will not be as we both would have desired,” I started. “But it’s not new in our world.” I stole him a look and smiled. “I know there are expectations.”

“Most certainly.”

“Like an heir?”

He coughed and it took a while before he recovered. “That’s what they expect, yes.” I stared at him for a while and he stared back. “What?” he asked.

“Do you expect it?”

He looked away. “Let’s discuss it some other time.”

“What? You’ll schedule it on another Wednesday?”

He did not respond, nor did he appear to appreciate the humor. “We’ll have to work around our schedules all the time. I hope you will not make it difficult.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I led him away from the oak tree.

“There will be social functions. You will have to free your schedule when necessary.”

“I can’t promise I will be present in all of them, but I’ll try.” We entered a small path shrouded by vines and shrubbery before opening into a dirt road. When I crossed it and entered the broken iron gates of the cemetery, he hesitated. I looked over my shoulder at him, brows raised in question. His lips pursed before he followed me through the gates. “Are you going to take another wife?”

My question was met by another fit of coughing.

“Are you sick?” I asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“No you’re not sick, or no, you’re not going to take another wife?”

He blinked at me, and it took a him two more breaths before he answered, “Taking a second wife does not interest me,” he carefully said, “but if I will be asked to add another in the future, I hope you would not mind.”

I honestly did not know how to answer that. Every fiber of my being that was Sutherlander opposed to the idea, but if I were to consider our arrangement, I think I would not mind if he were to take a second wife. At the moment, I could not see myself being a wife to anyone, more so perform duties entailed to the title.

“We have to be on the same page at all times,” he said, looking at me intently. His eyes were growing in me, the way he stared even more so. He looked like someone who saw things in details. “That’s the only way we can make this marriage work without ending up like many other arranged marriages.”

“Well, I agree,” I said. “You do not seem arrogant as I first thought, and I think we can make this work.”

“What made you think I’m arrogant?”

“You wanted me to leave my bike.” When he frowned, I added, “That day I hitched a ride.”

“I also did not refuse you a ride.”

“Fair enough. Whatever,” I said with a wave of my hand. Walking ahead, I led him through a series of tombstones until we reached a stone bench, which was standing only one one leg. I sat down while he remained standing, reading the name on the stone beside my feet. “I would not mind if you take another wife. As long as I get my freedom most days, I can work with you. And as long as you can make certain I remain anonymous, I will cooperate.”

His gaze veered back to me. “Why the constant demand for privacy?”

Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, I said, “I’m afraid time did not help society recover from its awe in everything royalty. I’ve seen how they idolized and praised royals. And I’ve seen how they hounded and ruined lives. I don’t intend to suffer the same.” When he just stared, I grinned. “In fact, if you promise to keep this marriage very private, you’re free to take as many wives your custom allows. You can present them to the public in the future and I won’t even bat an eye.”

His brows, impeccably sculpted to compliment his eyes, fused. “You’re surprisingly open-minded, Johanna.”

“I am. And you can call me Joey. I prefer it.”

“You can call me Dominic.”

I chuckled. “Great. I’d hate to call address you as Your Highness.”

His eyes remained on my face for a while before he tore them away and looked around, his gaze settling back at the Pickett House. “Why that house?”

“Why not?”

“There must be a reason other than its dark history.”

I smiled, took in a long breath, and sighed. “It’s not the house, nor the history.”

He frowned at me. “What do you mean?”

My smile stretched wider at his confusion. “It’s this.” I gestured with my arm. “The people who lived there.”

I saw the moment he realized what I meant, and it was safe to say he did not like it. “You’re kidding.”

I chuckled at his lilt tone. “Ten years ago, the last surviving owner of the Pickett House placed the property on sale.” I gestured at the tombstones. “Along with that are his ancestors.” When he just stared at me incredulously, my shoulders shook with laughter. “Come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t know the cemetery comes with the house!”

---

Author’s Note

This is an ongoing story on Patreon with 13 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

VI. Date at Pickett

“What for?” he asked, brow furrowed, hands dropping to his sides.

My smiled grew wider. Being dumbfounded pulled him out of character, which was quite entertaining to see. As I said before, he did not look like he belonged in the Pickett House, and even more so in the cemetery.

I pointed at the tombstone beside his foot. “That man’s wife died because she was accused of witchcraft. He quickly followed a year later, dying of heartache. They hanged her before his eyes. They were survived by their son and daughter. The daughter was accused of witchcraft too, but was acquitted because she was married into a powerful religious family who swore she was a saint. Her brother married into another powerful family of merchants and he produced two sons.” I pointed at the graves a few paces away. “And they had quite an entertaining story, too.”

“You want to keep the cemetery because of their stories,” he stated without question.

“Yes, and the others that I don’t know yet.” I stood and started walking, surprised that he followed. “I want to save the place because of one woman,” I said, stopping at a headstone.

He looked down. “Rebecca.”

My smile mellowed as I read the epitaph. “Loved in secret.” I looked up at Dominic. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He looked confused, so I sighed. “I want to find out who this woman is. I know everyone in this cemetery, except her.”

“Maybe that’s the point. You shouldn’t.” He gestured at the grave. “She is a secret.”

Ignoring him, I turned and made my way back to the house. “She died eighty years ago when she was just twenty-five. This property had never been owned by anyone other than the Picketts—until now, obviously. Whatever that belongs to the estate now belongs to us. Do you know if they have a storage of their artifacts somewhere?”

“There is none.”

“Then everything should be in the house. Does it have a basement?”

“I believe so.”

“Attic?

“Yes.”

I grinned at him over my shoulder. “I will have a very busy few years.”

He sighed and walked faster until he caught up with me. Digging his hand in his pocket, he looked ahead at the oak tree. “You can do whatever you want in this house, but I will have a few rules.”

“I don’t party, don’t worry.”

“It’s not that.”

I stopped to stare at his serious face. “What then?”

He stared at my hair, for some reason, then down at my loose white shirt that said: SORRY I’M LATE (I didn’t want to come) and then looked me in the eyes, his gaze intent, unwavering. “There should never be a scandal.”

I blinked at him, then crossed my arms over my chest. “Just to be clear—we’re talking about both parties.”

“Of course. You can be certain I will not be engaging in activities that will tarnish your reputation and that of your family.”

He was saying I had the potential to do that to him and his family. I get it. He was a perfect prince. No social scandals thus far. The only thing I found online was a short-lived rumor of a relationship with an English heiress. Other than that, he had a clean internet record.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I said. “I’ve never been in a scandal,” I further lied, which was half-true, anyway, because that part of my history was completely erased. It was also the reason I agreed to all this. “In fact, I don’t have social media,” I added, pulling my flip phone from my pocket, waving it at him. “Although I use the internet. I have a laptop. Is there more?”

He stared at my hair again. “I have nothing against your hair—”

“Liar,” I interjected with a laugh. “But go on.”

“I don’t like it, but I don’t also want you to feel that you have to change it for me.” His lips pursed. “But you will have to for the wedding.”

I groaned. “I already figured that out.”

“The wig was more terrible, I’m afraid,” he said with a small, apologetic curl in the corner of his lips.

“Fine. I’ll dye it back. Anything more?”

“No,” he said as he fished his phone from his back pocket. “I don’t want to take your entire day.”

“Good. We’ll have the rest of our lives to schedule more Wednesdays,” I said, eager to leave.

He looked like he had something more to say, but he just sighed and turned toward the house. “I’ll call some experts.”

“Thank you. But I want to be there when you meet them. I want this to be my project.”

“Of course. Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the pathwalk toward the side of the house.

We walked back to the front, where Von was still waiting.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.” I walked over to my bike. “Goodbye, Von. See you next time.”

“Goodbye, my lady,” he said with a smile.

The two of them waited until I pedaled away. I waved goodbye over my shoulder, and with a grin on my face, I rode back to my apartment.

---

Joan stared as Clarisse brushed the mixture all over one section of my hair, her chin resting on her palm, while Cloud loafed beside her on my bed.

I sipped my wine, legs folded on the chair, and stared at Joan. “What?”

“While we’re celebrating the brief life of your ash pink era, tell us more about the prince.”

I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing to say. I said we had dinner. We barely talked because he was on his phone the entire time, and our parents talked about Verford.”

“The islands?”

“Yes. So, can we cut it off? They talked about business, that’s all.” I stared at my friend, aware that it would be hard to convince her. “And his wedding, I guess.”

Clarisse paused behind me. “Wedding? He’s getting married?”

“That’s what they said,” I said with the most nonchalant shrug I could muster.

“Who is he marrying?”

“That, I do not know. Someone from England, I think,” I lied, taking a large gulp from my glass.

“Why did they mention it then?”

“They invited my parents to the wedding.”

“Is this why you’re going back to brunette?” Joan asked.

“No. I’m not invited to the wedding.”

“Then you can come with me to my trip!” she said, suddenly excited.

“I can’t.”

“Then my trip,” Clarisse said.

“I can’t. We’re going to spend the holiday somewhere. I’m going back to brunette because my mother noticed the wig and I can’t have my father discover it, too.”

A quiet fell in the room as Clarisse resumed working on my hair. I refilled my glass and Joan placed Cloud on her lap. “Why aren’t you invited to the wedding?”

“It’s very private, they say. Just a few people.”

“Your parents must be close with the Gavarian royals,” Joan said. “If they invited them to the wedding and all.”

“I don’t know. I’m not privy to the family business.”

“Ah—that’s why they’re talking about Verford!”

“Yes, Clarisse. They talked about the coal mines.”

“But I thought there’s some disputes over the islands.”

“That’s why they’re talking about the islands.” I cleared my throat and gestured with my hand. “My father is like… going to be a mediator of sorts.”

“Between who?”

“Gavaria and Sutherland.”

“Ah,” they said, nodding.

And thank God they found the topic boring. Quickly, our conversation shifted into other things. We talked about the upcoming summer break and our plans. I already knew about their individual trips, but I shared very little with mine because to be honest, I didn’t know where I’d be after the wedding.

“By the way, I’m leaving the apartment,” I said.

“Why?” Joan asked.

“It’s the neighbor, I bet,” Clarisse said with a laugh.

“That, and because I’ll be living with my… err… parents for a while.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “They wanted to spend more time with me.” I looked at Joan, and then at Clarisse. “Which is why I cannot host parties for a while. I have to behave.”

Joan scoffed. “No offense, Joe, but I have very little interest in being anywhere near the vicinity of your parents. It’s just awkward to be around royalty.”

I laughed. “I am one.”

“You’re my friend. That’s different.”

“Where are you going to stay? Here or Newcrest?”

“Not sure yet. They haven’t disclosed the villa.”

“A freaking villa,” Joan said with a laugh. She sighed and let Cloud jump off her lap. “Well, if that’s the case, we have to celebrate.” She poured herself a glass of wine. “And hope that your parents get bored and go back home.”

I just smiled. I felt guilty that I had to lie about my new living arrangement, but if I told them I’d be living in Pickett House, they would only ask more questions: How did I get it? Who got it for me? And if they searched, they would find Dominic’s name in the records. Not good for me and my super secret marriage.

My phone rang on the table. Joan picked it up and almost dropped it. “It’s your father,” she said, throwing it at me.

I laughed as I answered. “Hello, Father.”

“Johanna, I hope you’re ready? Karen and Bill will be there two days from now to pick you up.”

“I’ve packed.” I didn’t want to say I was ready. Who would ever be if they were in my situation?

“Good. The Emperor is arriving a week early. He’s requesting to meet you.”

I blinked a few times. “W-What?”

“I asked for it. If he wants us to be part of his family, he has to make an effort.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

There was a short pause in his end. “And Johanna,” he said, voice serious. “The King will also be there.”

My heart froze and the phone almost slipped out of my hand. “Okay.”

“Johanna? Are you alright?”

I nodded, forcing a smile at Joan, who looked very curious. “I’m fine. I’ll see you soon. Bye.”

I snapped my phone closed and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“You okay?” Joan asked.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost and swallowed it,” Clarisse said, staring at me through the mirror.

“I’m fine. Just not so keen on cutting school short,” I lied, also hating the fact that I had to lie.

Why am I making my life complicated again? Oh, right—it already is.

---

Author’s Note

This is an ongoing story on Patreon with 13 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories

VII. Cloveshire

The twins barged into my room not ten minutes after I arrived. Still both in their identical yellow silk pajamas, they locked the door and jumped on my bed. Their blue eyes were wide as they waited for me to say something.

“What?” I asked wryly, looking down my nose as I lay flat on my bed, stretching back.

“Does it feel weird?” Marie asked, crawling over me.

“No. I quite like the stretch.”

“Joey!” she growled. “Just answer.”

“What are you asking?”

“The wedding!” Mae said, sliding to lie beside me. Planting her hand under her cheek, she added, “The prince!”

My gaze jumped between them for a while. It was easy for people to pick them apart. Mae cut her hair short last year, saying it was an accident although we knew it wasn’t, while Marie kept her long waves. But even without “I don’t really know what you’re asking.” Then I laughed when they shook me, whining impatiently. “Fine! Fine!” I said when they tugged at my hair and shirt. “It’s all kind of weird, okay? Super weird.”

“Do you have to live together?” Mae asked. “Like share a room and all?”

“You’ll have to produce heirs, too,” said Marie. “Do you think they’ll require it as soon as you can?”

“Let’s not talk about that.”

“Fine. We’re not too keen on discussing your imminent sex life, anyway.”

I was about to argue that there was no sex life happening, but I stopped myself. Now, I could say for certain that it was not possible. But I had said many things in the past that I ended up regretting. This could be one of them, and if it was, I would not want to look like a stupid fool in front of my sisters when they’d see me with a bulging womb.

“I heard you made some demands,” Mae said with excitement. “What are they?”

“I don’t remember. I just said whatever came to mind.” Crawling out of their trap of limbs, I jumped out of bed. “If you don’t mind, I have to get ready.”

They fell on my bed and groaned. “This is so…” Marie scrunched her nose as she stared at the ceiling. “Boring?”

“It is,” Mae said with a sigh as she rolled on her side and opened her phone. “We can’t even post about it.”

“It should be an exciting event in the family, Joey,” Marie said as I padded to the bathroom door. “And you’re all acting like it’s nothing!”

“Because it might as well be,” I said with a sigh before I closed the door behind me. When I emerged hours later, with steam coming out, the twins were gone. Wrapped in a bathrobe, I walked over to the dressing table, drying my hair with a towel. And then I paused when my eyes landed on the photo frame sitting among bottles of perfume.

It was me at sixteen, grinning widely at the camera, my arm around Caroline’s neck as she laughed at the one taking the photo. Her blond hair was almost white and her face was blurry because she was never still. Never had been since I knew her. A sad smile played on my lips as the memory of that party came back to me.

It was just a month before everything turned ugly.

I tore my eyes off the photo and looked at myself in the mirror. Some wounds would never heal , I thought. There were those deep enough that they would remain etched in our souls.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Then another, and another, until I felt calm enough to get on with my day.

---

“They’re not wasting time, are they?” I murmured to Dominic as we sat waiting in the While Drawing Room of Cloveshire Palace. The vaulted ceiling, and the embrasures of the windows made it feel like we were inside an elegant cave.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyes on the double doors, as if waiting for it to open at any moment.

“I just arrived from Strait and now I’m here to meet your father.”

“He’s eager to meet you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

I looked across the vast space that separated us from my parents. It was absolutely ridiculous that the seats were so far apart. My mother was smiling at us, obviously pleased that me and my future husband was having a conversation. “I think I need to go to the toilet.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“You sound like you are.”

“Do I look like I am?”

He turned and stared at me, and his gaze lingered on me for quite some time before he spoke. “Do you want me to accompany you to the toilet?”

I jumped to my feet. “Yes.” To my parents, I smiled and said, “I need to go to the toilet. Dominic will escort me.”

A maid led us to the right door after we exited the door. As we walked down the corridor, Dominic fished out his phone.

“Are you always on that thing?” I asked.

“I’m surprised you’re not,” he said, texting a reply to whatever before putting the phone away.

“I used to,” I said.

“No social media?” I shook my head. “At all?” he asked.

“No, not really. But my accounts are still there. Just not public.”

“I have none,” he said.

“So you just have emails and calendars. Right.”

“Right.”

I snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“And news.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It has sports news, too.”

I laughed and entered the toilet door. When I emerged a few minutes later, he was outside, studying a painting on the wall. “Shall we?” I asked.

He turned to face me, one hand in his pocket. He gave me one sweeping look from the ground up and nodded. “You dressed accordingly.”

“I know how to dress accordingly, Your Highness. Were you worried I wouldn’t?”

“No, but I was wondering if you’d dare not to.”

I laughed, and then I stopped. In fact, I froze, my feet refusing to move further.

“What’s wrong?” Dominic asked before he followed my gaze. “Princess Bridgett,” he greeted with a bow.

I, on the other hand, remained frozen in my spot.

The princess smiled at Dominic before her gaze returned to me. She looked a little older, but apart from that, everything seemed to be the same. Including the hatred in her eyes. Despite the smile she forced on her face, the loathing still traveled through the distance between us.

“Johanna,” she said, her voice breaking through the glass that surrounded me. “Congratulations.”

I swallowed but my throat was too dry. I managed a curtsy and a very lame, “Thank you.”

She tore her icy blue eyes off me and smiled at Dominic. “Congratulations, Prince Dominic.”

“Thank you,” Dominic replied with a slight bow of his head.

The princess smiled. “You will have a very loyal wife,” she said without staring at me. “You can be assured she will never betray your trust.”

And then she was gone, walking past us and down the hall.

“Johanna,” Dominic said. “Are you okay?”

I blinked and snapped. “Y-Yes, of course. We should move along. The princess is here and so should the king.”

As we hurried down the corridor, Dominic looked over his shoulder. “She doesn’t like you, does she?”

“No,” I said, clearing my throat. I hastened my pace to evade his questions, but as I stumbled inside, I skidded to a stop. And my heart went haywire.

Everyone standing in the center of the White Drawing Room turned in our direction.

“There they are,” Empress Suzanne said as Dominic grabbed my hand and quite literally pulled me toward them.

“Your Majesties,” Dominic greeted.

“Your Majesties,” I followed with a curtsy, my eyes cast downward as I held my breath. There had been days in the past when I would just go straight to the king and curtsy with a smile. But those days were over. I could not even look at him anymore.

“It has been a long time, Johanna,” I heard Queen Simone say, and I simply had no choice but to look up and meet her gaze because she was just the sweetest. And seeing her with that radiant smile only made me feel worse. Anger, I could deal with. Kindness, I was having more trouble with.

“She has been busy with school,” my mother told the queen.

“Johanna,” my father said, catching my attention. I turned to him with a forced smile as my eyes landed on the Emperor. “Your Majesty, may I present to you my daughter, Lady Johanna Duke.”

Emperor Philippe broke into a wide smile, his brown eyes glistening with mirth. “My son has been lying to me, Johanna. You look more beautiful than he painted you to be.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“The other room is ready,” King Emory said. I involuntarily turned to him at the sound of his voice and our eyes met. He looked the same, and he smiled the same. I just hoped I could tell if it was real. “It is nice to see you again, Johanna. And Domonic, too, of course,” he said. “We old people have a few things to discuss first and we’ll have a proper dinner.”

Dominic bowed, and I did the same, although I did not know why. We waited until they all disappeared—literally all of them. “Where are they going?” I whispered.

“To settle the Verford dispute.”

“Oh, right,” I said, walking toward a chair. “Thanks for reminding me why we’re actually here.”

He took the seat beside me and we sat there in silence until the air grew awkward.

“Seven: we should at least spend one day together every two weeks.”

He looked at me for a long time. “Why?”

“Not physically, of course. We can do it online once school starts again.”

“But—”

“I know you lead a very busy life, and so do I with my part-time jobs and school, but we should not spend the rest of our married life like strangers. We should at least have to consider each other friends.”

“I understand, but—”

“Can’t you just say yes? It’s just a day every two weeks.”

“Yes, but—”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll meet once every two weeks, online or if you want, you can visit me at Pickett House.” When he remained quiet, I turned to him and asked, “What?”

“Have you been thinking about this or did the thought just occurred to you?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re at number seven.” I let out a sigh as I looked around.

“Stop fussing,” he said, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I’m trying,” I hissed as I pulled my hand away.

“Try harder before you invent demand number ten.”

I swallowed and restlessly smoothed my dress. As I tapped the floor with my shoe, my gaze went to the closed door and a funny thought came to me. “We’re stopping a war—you and I. Agree or not?”

A small smile curled his lips. “Agree.”

I let out a sigh. “Let’s just hope we don’t take the war with us in this marriage.”

---

Author’s Note

This is an ongoing story on Patreon with 24 chapters as to this writing, and you’re welcome to join us there!

Join us on Patreon at: patreon.com/jdruizstories