EIGHTEEN

'Everything you want is out there waiting for you to ask. Everything you want also wants you.' – Jack Canfield

It didn't take too long for me to be informed Henry has been released from whatever nook and cranny they had shoved him in. The secret service had only gotten so far in making it look like he'd been the one to kill Claudia. I guess I should have been relieved that when the call came, it only took an hour to erase everything. But I can't be. An hour. It nearly destroyed his life, and it took an hour to eradicate everything. It's a fucking joke.

I'm not sure what to make of it. Charlotte doesn't help. She paces back and forth, typing something furiously on her phone. We're both hovering outside the third-floor office. It's the room where the big stuff happens - the decisions that change the world and usually where my parents greet the prime minister. I have so many questions but I know better than to barge my way into the meeting happening behind this door. James' speech has caused a tumultuous mess that no royal family has ever had to deal with. Half of the country is torn between throwing him in prison and never seeing him again or worshipping at his feet for admitting the truth.

I also haven't seen the guy since he made the announcement and that was days ago.

"What do you think they are talking about?" Charlotte suddenly stops pacing, closing something on her phone and slipping it into her jean pocket.

"What are you doing?" I stare at her. She is flushed, her red hair a mess.

"Check your phone."

I reach inside my pocket and dig out my phone, clicking on the notification I have been tagged in.

The verdict on Prince James seems to be divided, personally, I think he did the right thing. Also, rooting for him and @HRHPrincessEva. Did you see the way he looked at her as he made that speech? #goals

"Really, Char?" I raise an eyebrow at the tweet she has retweeted from a blogger and the replies are flooding in. I scan over some of them and pull a face. "People are saying you ship us together."

Charlotte leans against the banister of the staircase and offers me a smile. "My timeline is full of tweets like that," she tells me. "Everyone wants to know other people's opinions on what should happen to him, and a lot of people caught that moment between the two of you. Literally. The entire world was watching that announcement."

"I smiled at him, Jesus Christ."

"Jesus clearly had something to do with it considering the two of you haven't smiled at each other since you were twelve."

"Looney, all of you." I roll my eyes at her, but I can't help but glance back at the office door.

"What do you think is going on?"

"James literally threw himself in the shitter," Charlotte grimaces. "They will have to do some heavy cleaning up; I mean the boy admitted to killing someone in front of millions of people. Accident or not, that doesn't just go away."

Charlotte's expression remains sour as she looks down at her hands. "Doesn't he get like, diplomatic immunity?" She adds.

"I don't even know how it would work," I sigh and slump down against the railing. "It isn't like there is a rule book on what to do when a royal admits to killing someone and he isn't even a royal of this country."

Charlotte scoffs, "there ought to be."

"What do you mean?" I look up at her beside me with a frown.

"In all of history, you're telling me James Prescott is the first person to kill someone - - purposefully or not?" Charlotte laughs. "Our ancestors practically poisoned anyone they found annoying enough and those who couldn't be poisoned always found a way with a knife at their throat."

I pull a face. She's not wrong. "Okay, but that was like a hundred or so years ago."

"I bet the secret service and MI5 have buried numerous shit our family has done over the years. I don't think this is their first rodeo, Eva. I think it's their first public one."

This makes me pause. I think back to my parents, my grandparents, Mike even. I consider if there are things I don't know about that have been brushed under the carpet. Incidents between frisky uncles or sudden deaths have been explained away by a signature from a medical examiner. It makes me think too hard and I have to close my eyes.

"Don't overthink it, he did the right thing. You know that right?"

I look up at her - really look at her. "Of course."

"I think Luke would have been proud of him."

He would be, which is even more of a reason I feel conflicted about learning of James' consequences. On the one hand, what happened was a complete accident – I know it because I was there. But on the other, I wouldn't expect anyone else to simply get away with it. But James has responsibilities little others have in this world and I don't know what would happen if he just stopped fulfilling them.

"He did the right thing for once. He took accountability." I agree, my heart squeezing at the thought. "Luke would have been so proud of him,"

"I really hope so."

I startle at the new voice and scramble up from my slumped position to face James. He is massaging his right hand with his left and his green eyes appear bloodshot. I glance back at the door, but it's still firmly shut meaning he hasn't been in there for a while.

"Hey," Charlotte whispers, her voice soft, kind. "How are you?"

"Surviving."

It's awkward for a minute as nobody makes a move to say anything else. I have missed my opportunity to say something to fill the void and by the look on James and Charlotte's faces, neither of them knows what to say either.

"Is..." I trail off as James' eyes snap in my direction. "Is Henry—"

"He's on his way." He cuts me off.

I don't stop the small smile that stretches across my face. James' bloodshot eyes bore down into my own and he wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"Remember what I said," his voice hardens. "You need to stay away from him."

"Stay away from who?" Charlotte pipes up.

"And I told you that it's got nothing to do with you. I only want to see if he's okay."

James gives me a judgemental once over and if I thought for five minutes I liked this guy then I was evidently mistaken. He begins to walk in the opposite direction down the corridor without another word.

"Where is he going?" Charlotte stares at his back. "And who was he talking about?"

"He doesn't get to behave this way," I mumble out loud and start to jog after him.

"Hey!"

When James doesn't reply, I pick up my pace and call again. "Hey!"

James doesn't bother looking around even as I catch up to him and grab his arm, yanking on it. "Hello?"

"For crying out loud, what do you want?" he spits, shaking out of my grip.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You can't say things like that, it's unfair and you know it. We've had this conversation." I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated. He just doesn't get it. Henry and I kissed – once – we are hardly married off and I care about him the same way I care about anyone else in this situation.

"We don't have conversations, Eva," James narrows his eyes down at me. "In fact, all we do is argue. In fact, I think it's fair to say I can barely understand you half the time through all your stupidity."

"Now you're being a dick?" I press my hands to his chest, but I don't do anything else. I can feel the roaring beat of his hands in his chest and watch the way it rises and falls. "You're hurting and taking it out on me. You..." I run one of my hands down his torso and let it fall and push myself away from him. "Heartless but so full of feelings."

"Stop trying to project to me how you want me to feel," his voice is gruff. "I'm not my brother. You can't mould me into the guy you want."

The comment hurts but I feel steady on my feet today, determined. I know he's hurting and I can't begin to imagine how it must feel to have put yourself on the line like that. In front of millions of people. And I can deal with being his punching bag right now if it makes him feel better for a moment.

I used to question why James was the way he is and why we are the way we are together. It's because we both lost someone we love.

"Your Highness, the verdict is in."

We both look up at a member of staff carrying an iPad against her chest.

James nods and steps away but before he does, I grab his hand and pull his gaze down to me.

"For the record, Luke would have been proud of you, James. And to make myself clear, so am I...if that means anything at all."

James stares down at me for a minute and I can see a swirl of emotions flickering through his eyes.

"Your Highness," the woman prompts, and I drop his hand.

I find out an hour later James has been cleared of all charges.

**

After the verdict was given, palace life seemed to fall seemingly back to normal and everything about Claudia's death was suddenly submerged under everything to do with James' search for a bride. As if they could bury the people who disagreed with the outcome with more news about who he fancied.

A week later during interviews, I find myself more distracted than ever. James is here during interviews for the first time since this experience began and I find myself antsier knowing he is here and listening in real-time than knowing he is watching the clips cut together later tonight with everyone else. I'm obviously not the only girl here who feels it either and I can't stop the way my eyes keep flickering to the prince during my own interview.

"I apologise, could you repeat the question?" I ask politely to the interviewer.

"The courtship between you and James, how are you finding it so far?"

"Oh," I force a smile. "James and I have a relationship that can't quite be described," I say. I mean it's not exactly a lie.

"Oh, do go on," the interviewer leans forward slightly.

"What I mean to say is that we have a good...friendship. We grew up together and are in the unique position of knowing the responsibility we each carry."

The interviewer looks down at his notes. "You are indeed here the only lady who comes with her own crown. A marriage between the two of you will only strengthen your pre-existing alliance between your countries. You are known to be a good wit and are frequently described as a beauty. Dare I say you are a step ahead?"

Is this guy for real? I feel as if I have had this conversation a hundred times already.

"Some may think so," I say and glance at James who watches me, enthralled. "Some may think my title comes with lots of advantages, and in many ways it does. However, neither my title nor my apparent beauty or wit can determine what the heart chooses. I may be an ideal choice for James, but I cannot say I am the right one."

"Perfectly put, Princess. I daresay the prince will pick who he wants."

I can't seem to tear my eyes from James who pretends to converse with another man of the press a few feet away, but his eyes are fixed on me. I can feel the heat of it from where I'm sitting and I clench my legs together under my dress.

"I want you." I can swear he mouths it but the moment my brain registers the words is the moment he lets out a small chuckle to the man beside him and I blink away the thought.

The interviewer looks directly into the camera. "We will be back after the break with a catch-up with more of the public's favourites."

The camera cuts out, and the interviewer stands up from his seat, thanks me and bows and turns away. I shift restlessly in my chair as all the girls burst into the conversation and look back up to still see James staring. I have never wished to know what someone else is thinking more than I ever have at this very moment.

I stand up – more for something to do and wander over to the table housing some bottled water. I pick one up and gulp it down, desperate to clear the suddenly dry throat I am sporting.

It feels like seconds later the room is being asked to be quiet and the cameras roll again.

"And we are back ladies and gentlemen. If you are only tuning in now, I am joined with the thirteen remaining ladies where one could soon become Prince James' bride. Isn't that just so exciting?" He asks the camera, exaggerating.

"Now, I have spoken to Lady Henna, Lady Amberley and her Royal Highness Princess Evangeline," he pauses for a brief second, "these young women all expressed their thoughts on the competition so far, but my question now is what is to come? I believe these ladies are due to visit Windsor Castle this weekend, do you have any idea what activities you shall do whilst you are there, Lady Sophia?"

Sophia blinks at the camera, appearing thrown from being asked something she clearly doesn't have an answer prepared for. She fiddles idly with her hands.

"Windsor Castle, how exciting!" she says with a large smile. "As of right now, I am unsure of the purpose of our visit, however, I expect it to be wonderful and a great opportunity to get to know more of Prince James."

She's smart, I note. Thinks on her feet.

"Exciting indeed," the interviewer says. "We will follow the girl's journey to Windsor this weekend. Tune in every night at seven pm for updates on the girl's progress." He reminds his audience and then makes a small speech about some hashtags on Twitter before signing off. Someone yells cut and I stand up, the girls already leaving their chairs with a newfound buzz.

James catches my hand as I leave.

"I meant what I said."

My breath hitches but I try to appear confused. "Sorry?"

James frowns and tries to read my schooled expression and lets my hand go. "Nothing, never mind."

I meant what I said.

I can't drop it. Not when I get out of the bath that evening or when I finally collapse into bed. Those words circle around my head, consuming every thought I have. I can't drop it even when I am spooning cereal into my mouth the next morning, or when I am being ushered into one of the black SUVs on the way to Windsor Castle.

I meant what I said.

I want you.

I can't stop thinking about it.