FIVE

'Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named...'

I don't see James for days after that night and whilst that is a good thing, my mind continues to drift to another member who works for the Australian royals. I'm beginning to think I've officially lost it. I have turned into one of those girls. The kind of girl who spends every waking moment obsessing over a guy. A guy I met for all of two minutes. My brief interaction with that Australian member of security has got me practically doing cartwheels across the ballroom floor. I find myself spending five minutes longer in front of the mirror each morning, wearing my nicer jeans rather than the pair of comfy but fading pair I usually wear. I'm almost embarrassed by myself.

Because what a plot twist he is.

But I don't know who I'm trying to kid. I haven't clapped eyes on him since my tantrum in the gardens. I am almost convinced I have imagined him, conjured up some figment of my imagination to try and mend the gaping hole that has been ripped from my chest for the better part of a year. But there he was, the feeling I thought I'd forgotten.

"You're not an easy woman to find,"

I tear open my eyes and drag my head from the sun. My feet slosh in the pool as I meet James' eyes. The movement has caused me to splash water all over my open book.

"Maybe because I'm not a leech on every single wall," I mutter and pick up my dripping book from beside me and shake it out.

I can almost feel the smirk on his face. "Are you flirting or trying to start a fight?"

"Are you bugging me for a reason?"

James' lips turn up, "your father has requested your presence."

"I didn't realise you were the King of England's errand boy."

"I was coming this way," he says simply and gestures to the towel thrown over his shoulder.

"You seriously have nowhere else to be?"

"Not until four."

This boy is impossible.

I push myself up and grab my towel and sodden book. "Do you know where he is?"

"His office," James says and gestures to someone over his shoulder. "Henry here will escort you. Don't want you getting lost on your way." He grins.

"I know where my father's office is," I grimace at the same time someone else speaks.

"No problem, sir."

"Henry?" I mumble, my eyes slamming down hard on the man I haven't been able to stop thinking about for the last few days. James looks between us with a look I can't quite decipher.

"Yes, Henry," James watches my face and glances behind him. "My head of security."

Well, fuck.

**

Perhaps it's because I'm so used to Adam – forty-nine-year-old Adam – being my head of security I hadn't even conceivably considered the idea James would possibly have someone around our age in the same position. Or possibly it's because I decided to block out the memory of where I imagined I first saw him outside the lift that first morning.

"The royal guard?" I croak out as we slip through the door and into the wet room.

Henry smiles. "My outfit does not give it away?"

I can't smother the smile at his joke. "I mean, I knew you were security but..."

"But you didn't realise just how close I worked with the prince."

"Right," I say, shaking out my wet hair and twisting it into a small bun at the nape of my neck.

"Does it bother you?" Henry asks as we start moving towards dad's office.

"No," I lie, sighing. Because it does bother me – more than it should. I had assumed he was low-level. Why else would the heir's head of security be loitering around the palace gardens and not stationed with his charge.

"It seems like it bothers you."

"It just threw me off, that's all," I say, avoiding his gaze. "You don't act...you don't act as I'd expect." I don't know what else to say. I'm used to Adam. Adam who has spoke less words to me in all my years than books I have read. Adam who is always just there, in the shadows like a comfort you didn't realise you need, like a piece of the furniture. Henry, however, seems to swan around this place like his prince does. It has got to be an Australian thing.

"That's because your head of security is old enough to be your dad," Henry says, the heat of his gaze has still not left the side of my face. We stop in front of my father's office and I watch another member of security drop their gaze.

"I know," I say and blink up at him.

"And I couldn't help myself,"

I frown. "Help yourself?"

But Henry doesn't answer my question. He leans across from me, his suit jacket brushing against my bare arm and I meet his eyes once more as his hand connects with the door handle.

"Your highness,"

I think I forget how to breathe.

**

"Grandma?"

Now, this is not what I expected to find as my eyes swung around my father's office.

"Oh darling," the woman in question stands from the armchair, her short grey hair perfectly styled into a small bob, the ends curling around her ears. She's wearing a maroon-coloured dress and small heels and looks everything like how a grandma shouldn't.

But she's mine.

I practically race across the room and slam into her, her frail arms wrapping around my shoulders despite being much smaller than me. She smells of roses and bad decisions and I want to soak up every second of this moment because this woman is nothing short of incredible.

"How is Gramps?" I ask, pulling away from her. It has only dawned on me now that she wouldn't have made the journey for nothing.

Grandma must read the look on my face because she chuckles. "As grumpy as most old men are, isn't that right, Andrew?"

I see the way she eyes her son with a look of boldness about her. He might be the King of England, but King Andrew isn't going to defy his mother.

"Are we waiting for Mike and—"

"It's just us, darling," Grandma cuts me off.

"Oh."

Grandma retakes her seat in the armchair, and I follow, sitting in the chair opposite her. The room is dark. Books line each wall and a large desk sits in the middle of the room, the wood of his desk is almost black. It's the only room in the entire palace that isn't decked with portraits and tapestries. Instead, my father has adorned his office with creepy stag heads and battle figures made from glass. My father rounds his large desk and takes a seat on the edge, something my mother would hate. Dad taps his fingers onto the desk behind him, the crest of his ring digging into his skin with each motion. I eye him cautiously and look anxiously between the two, waiting for someone to explain what on earth is going on.

"Dad?" I prompt.

"When I became king, I didn't only make a vow to this country, but to my family," he starts.

"I'm unsure how much you are aware of our current...finances but after a long discussion with my personal audience, we made a decision to invite the Prescott's here."

His audience? He means he discussed this with my mother, my brother and his chief of staff. He means he discussed this with everyone he deems important enough and that does not include me. I am the spare after all.

"You brought the Prescott's here for their money?" This makes no sense at all. Australia isn't about to hand us out a loan.

The sigh my father gives tells me this is not how he expected the conversation we are having was going to go.

"Andrew, please just explain to Eva your decision before I turn into a crisp." Grandma demands and I have never been more thankful to have someone in this family on my side.

"An alliance with the Prescott's would support this country immensely. The truth of the matter is that we are losing money, too much money, the money we cannot afford to lose, Eva," Dad looks uncomfortable with his reality and it's only now looking at him that I can see the toll this is having on him.

"We are old money whereas the Prescott's are new money. They have a much more modern take on things, and this means that they are only rising whereas we are starting to slip."

"We already have an alliance with Australia," I state the obvious because surely there has to be more to it than this.

"I'm talking about a marriage alliance,"

"Pardon?"

"Our country is bound by tradition, Eva. I couldn't make you marry James even if I thought that was best,"

"Thank the lord," I interject.

"But your name has been on James Prescott's list since the moment you both were born. You are more than eligible for this match. You come with your own country and alliances James is unlikely going to get elsewhere,"

"Which is pointless, dad, because neither James nor I have any desire to marry each other."

"You're speaking in riddles, Andrew," Grandma sighs. "Get to the point."

Dad looks at his mother and then back to me. "What I'm trying to say is that you don't have a choice. A contract was created when the twins were born, and I signed it."

"A contract for what?"

"That when it came the time the twins were to marry, you'd be thrown into the running."

"You did what?"

"Eva, darling, your name is on the list. The very top of the list in fact which is why it is imperative now you must contribute as being a contender in the running for James' search for a bride."

"You are kidding me," my voice breaks. He can't surely mean...

"There is nothing I can do about it, it's a binding document. You must present yourself as a possible match."

I think I'm going to faint.

"You're the bloody King of England!" I bellow, my chest rising and falling with every sharp breath I take. "Unbind it."

"It cannot be done," Grandma speaks up and I snap my eyes to hers. I feel a sense of betrayal from her that I never expected to feel. She has always been on my side.

"You knew about this?"

"We never expected this to be a problem," she says slowly, judging my reaction. "Particularly when you grew close to Prince Lucas..."

"But now he's dead," I spit and stare at the two people in front of me. The two people who have signed my life away as if it was a game and I was just a chess piece.

"Which is why this is necessary."

I stand and I look between my father and grandmother. "So, what your saying is I have no choice? You'd marry me off to a guy I despise because you want the money and duty it brings."

"It's not as simple as that, Eva," my father's frustration doesn't change the truth.

"I'm glad to know that is all I am to you," I bite out, "a pawn, a chess piece you can move because I am not him. I am not Michael. Or are you choosing his wife too?"

The look on my dad's face is the answer I need. I shove the armchair back as I stand and listen to the legs screech against the dark wood flooring. All I have seemed to do recently is remove myself from these situations bursting with some kind of anger. The emotions are almost too strong I think I had forgotten what they felt like.

I hear my father start to walk after me, but he abruptly stops as I pull open the office door.

"Eva," he says gently. "The other girls will be arriving tomorrow."

But I can barely hear him over the thunder of my own tears. 

Thank you for reading! x