Page 4 of Prince Cheating Charming

And, not only did I already have an inferiority complex, but it didn’t help that there were so many tall, gorgeous women in Norjava Palace, including Alexander’s chief of staff Julia, a stunning tall blonde woman who was a former professional volleyball player, and his secretary Jewel, a stunning tall brunette woman who was a former professional model.

I tried to befriend both of them, but neither woman seemed interested.

When Alexander told me I could add some traditional Gesaint symbols around the palace and to give Jewel a list so she could find them, Jewel sighed dramatically after Alexander had left the room.

“He’s such a thoughtful man. It was so sweet of him to marry you.”

Her smile was big, bright, artificial.

I felt uncomfortably like a charity project Alexander was working on, but I said, “Thank you.”

Maybe she was just teasing me. Maybe we could still be friends.

“What are the symbols of Gesaint anyways?” Jewel went on, looking at her long, perfect scarlet nails and making no effort to write anything down. “Lumpy porridge and cold potatoes?”

“More like gout and bad teeth,” Julia laughed from across the room where she was scrolling her phone.

She folded one long, elegant leg over the other.

“Of course, we don’t mean you,” she said, smiling insincerely.

I swallowed my irritation, too embarrassed and unsure of my status to respond.

Despite my unease and embarrassment, when I focused on my husband I was happy. He was everything to me. The most handsome, cleverest, kindest man in the world.

Of course I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

I couldn’t miss the way the women in Norjava looked at him. Plumping their lips when he came near, arching their backs to raise perfect tits in the air.

Alexander didn’t respond in any way that I could see, but I still felt unease that I tried to drive down.

I just lacked self-confidence.

My perfect husband, who encouraged me to draw and do art, and said any book I illustrated would immediately be required reading for everyone in the kingdom, loved me.

Then King William died, peacefully in his sleep.

And Alexander would soon be King.

Queen Cecily did not seem overly sad, and appeared much more concerned with Alexander’s upcoming coronation as King.

“Can you do something about. . . this,” she asked as she came into the room where I was being fitted into my golden coronation gown.

“What is this?” I asked nervously.

“Your. . . lower half, dear,” she said. “I know this sort of shape is all very well in Gesaint, but you are now in Norjava, and here we prize fitness.”

I twisted around uneasily in the mirror. The stiff and uncomfortable dress was a little tight across my generous ass, but surely it wasn’t that noticeable.

Butterflies began to fill my stomach. Was this what life as Queen of Norjava was going to be like? Everyone looking at my ass and thinking it wasn’t fit enough?

Setting my jaw, I clung to the comfort I had.

Alexander loves me. I can bear anything as long as he loves me.

On the day of the Coronation, I met the Archbishop of Norjava, who presided over all the official ceremonies. Archbishop Magnus was the second-most important person in all of Norjava, and it was his job to lead communal worship of the Norjavan patron saint, Constance. I didn’t know much about the 19th-century saint but the pictures I had seen of her stern hawk-like face and glittering eyes made me nervous.

The Archbishop, however, was a man in his late 60s with a head of unruly white hair, a resplendent white beard, and half-moon glasses.

---