Page 7 of Guarding the Princess
“I wouldn’t try that if I were you. No need to attempt it anyway as I have no plans to let your secret out. Get on that plane in a few weeks and I’ll be on my way and out of your hair.”
“Out of my hair? Does that mean ‘out of my way’?”
He smiles briefly, losing that stern expression. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant. Still getting the hang of the English language?”
I smile right back, more ice in mine than his. “Yes. Phrases mostly. I get them mixed up sometimes considering I’m fluent in Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, German, and English.”
His mouth drops open before he snaps it shut again. “I’ll try to stay out of your way. But know this: I’ve never messed up a job yet. Let me know what day works in the next few weeks for travel and I’ll get the arrangements made.”
My smile broadens, not because I enjoy the prospect of returning home, but because I know there’s no way I’m getting on that airplane which will surely send him into a fit at the prospect of not completing a job. Guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Sure. I’ll let you know,” I lie.
I hop up and get back to work, trying to function even as I feel the vise grips tightening around my neck. My back is up against the wall and there’s no worse place to be right now. My brain scrambles to come up with a plan.
* * *
The shop finally closes mid-afternoon and I head home several blocks away. Ryker trails me the whole way, his black polo and slacks sticking out amongst all the people bundled up in sweaters and beanies. Los Angeles never gets that cold over the winter, but everyone bundles up just the same. Ryker must not have the same fashion sense, or maybe his superfluous muscles make him impervious to the cold.
My phone rings from somewhere in my bag. I fumble around, finally finding it and checking the screen.
“Ugh,” I moan.
It’s Mother.
I let it roll to voicemail which I’m sure will anger her, but I really can’t talk to her. Not today. I just need a day to wrap my head around what’s happening and what I have to do. While making coffee orders this afternoon, I decided I have two clear choices. First option is to run away and forever live under the radar while looking over my shoulder. Second is to find a fiancé, fake or real, and convince my mother I’m madly in love and therefore won’t come back to Regora to take the throne.
That’s it. That’s what my life has been reduced to. Two horrible choices before me all because I was born to a king and queen. Yes, I know I should feel grateful to grow up as I did, with servants around at all times to attend to my every need. I get it, I really do, especially having lived on my own for two and a half years. That’s a lot of loads of laundry I had to do myself! But the restriction of having every day scripted for you with no variance if a whim hits you, or you feel like taking a day off, or you prefer something that isn’t considered “proper” of a royal.
It’s stifling, to say the least.
In this modern day and age, all humans should be free to choose. Free to strike out on their own and make something of themselves however they choose. Marriages aren’t normally arranged anymore and citizens of most countries are able to choose the occupation they wish. How is it that I’m not afforded those same rights?
My phone dings again as I climb the stairs inside my building’s lobby. Ryker stays out on the street and I breathe out a long sigh now that he’s not watching my every move. I hit the “play” button and put the phone to my ear to listen to her voicemail message.
“Hello, älslking. The days are getting colder. It’s time for you to come back just like we agreed years ago. Our country needs you and I need you. Call me or Nora with the date you’ll have all your things packed and ready to go. I love you.”
And there it is again, the noose tightening until I can’t take a full breath from the panic lacing through my limbs. I stumble on the stairs and catch myself before I fall. Throwing my phone back in my bag, I carefully hike the rest of the way up to my door, unlocking it and slamming it behind me. The soft scarf that looked so cute this morning suddenly seems unbearably tight, so I unwind it from my neck and slide out of my sweater, dropping everything to the ground.
My phone pings again, spiking my heart rate by making me think Mother is calling back already. Instead, the screen says it’s a text from Rhys.
Rhys:I know you said not to, but I’m on the early flight tomorrow morning to come see you. A bestie can’t leave her girl to go through a breakup alone. Prepare thyself.
A laugh bubbles out of me and into my quiet apartment, quickly turning into a sob. I hate crying. It’s a sign of weakness I don’t normally indulge in. But if there was ever a time to break down and cry, it’s now. So I let the tears flow, feeling sorry for myself and the direction my life is now going in. I was so sure I’d have found the love of my life by now and be free from the chains of the throne. Here I am facing my biggest dilemma in my life thus far and even my best friend doesn’t know who I am. Tomorrow I’ll have to lie to her face. Tomorrow will also be the last time I even see her face, which makes me bawl harder.
When the tears finally stop, I only have one thought.
I must run away.
That’s the only choice that will work for me, even if it brings my family shame.
I must run away very soon.
4
Ryker
Her light flips on, though I don’t see her walking around the apartment on the second floor. I wait out on the street in my truck, my attention split between the window and the lobby door of her building. Until eight o’clock, she’s under my watch. The night guard takes over later and watches throughout the night though she’s rarely out after that hour. This princess isn’t a party girl.
