Page 9 of Will You (Not) Marry Me

She was exhausted. She’d landed in Skärov from New York early that morning and had been back in her home country for less than two hours, barely enough time to shove some breakfast into her mouth, when she and her family had boarded a private plane to make their way to Eschenberg. Now at four in the afternoon, they were being driven through the capital city, a blur of traditional heritage-listed houses nestled in between the most modern of skyscrapers and storefronts, a confusing mix of brick and stone and steel and glass. It didn’t help that Eva was jet-lagged to the point of nausea as she leaned her head against the window.

Her mother and father were in the car ahead. She and Magnus rode side by side in the second of the vehicles. Neither of them had bothered to try and make conversation, which suited Eva just fine. Her stomach was churning, and she couldn’t figure out if the hunger, the jet lag, or the nerves was the worst of it. Though if she had to take a guess at it, the nerves were probably the worst.

In less than a couple of days, her entire life had been flipped on its head, and she hadn’t had a say in any of it. Not even what she was wearing, not really. She would have been much more comfortable in her jeans, boots and leather jacket against the winter breeze. But here she was, wearing a smart gray pantsuit over a white blouse. She’d even brushed her hair back slick behind her ears, and she felt pretty much naked with such minimal makeup on. But she’d drawn the line at leaving her jewelry behind. She still had rings on all her fingers, plus her silver pendants and lockets around her neck. It made her feel better to fiddle with them, and at least with the suit, it looked somewhat chic still.

Her mother had tried to convince her to wear a dress but had promptly shut her mouth with the withering look Eva had given her. They hadn’t said a word to each other since, mostly because her mother was walking on eggshells in case Eva changed her mind and booked a ticket back to New York, officially flushing all their reputations down the toilet forevermore. That was yet another moment when Eva realized how badly her family was depending on her; when hermotherwas willing to back down from a fight. This marriage really was the only thing that could fix things.

There’s always a choice… What a load of garbage.

She supposed she could always open up the car door and roll out onto the road, maybe break an arm in the process, but oh well. She could get up and make a run for it, construct a makeshift cast out of sticks and torn-up clothes. Start a new life with a new identity. She could make pottery and sell it at markets or something. Herd sheep in the hills. Something. So yes,technically,she had a choice. But between a marriage she didn’t want and going on the run with broken bones, there wasn’t a whole lot of silver linings in either direction.

Then the car slid to a stop and Eva woke up with a jolt. They’d made it through security and the outer gates and were now parked outside the royal palace of Eschenberg, staff buzzing around the cars, opening doors and greeting everyone with polite bows and curtsies.

Magnus had a hand on Eva’s shoulder, and she shrugged it off with a groggy frown.

“What?” she said.

“You fell asleep. We’re here.”

“Great,” she deadpanned.

Magnus looked like he wanted to say something else, but their doors were opened for them, the afternoon sun streaming straight into Eva’s face as she blinked and climbed out.

“Welcome, princess,” the footman in front of her said.

Eva plastered a serene smile on her face as she climbed out of the car. “Thank you so much,” she said, smoothing the creases on her jacket, which was far too thin for the weather.

The palace was beautiful, a long stone building that rose several stories into a sky that was now barely tinged pink with the setting sun. Delicate carvings adorned every surface, columns rising up at even intervals. It was a building worthy of European royalty. Neatly trimmed lawns spread out around them, scattered with perfect hedges and picturesque flower beds. After years in New York, it was strange to be surrounded by so much open space that wasn’t the familiar paths of Central Park. There was so much sky above her that it was disorienting.

Eva didn’t have long to look around her with the staff ushering them inside. The thing about being royal was that there was always a schedule to be kept to. Lateness was blasphemy.

She broke royal protocol and walked behind her parents but in front of Magnus, despite him being the heir. If she was the one burdened with saving them all, then she would walk ahead of him. She noticed one or two of the servants smother surprised looks as they walked up the stairs to the main entrance, but Magnus, for his part, didn’t utter a word. He simply bowed his head and followed meekly behind Eva.

Don’t you dare make me feel guilty,she thought. She had to admit that hehadbeen trying. He’d even said he’d tried to get her out of this marriage, and seeing him in person now, she really had to believe him. She fought against the urge to feel sorry for him when he was the reason they were in this mess. So instead, Eva tried to lean into the anger instead.

Then she wasn’t thinking much of anything at all as they were led inside the palace. It was beautiful and opulent, of course. The walls shimmered golden in a trick of the wallpaper, adorned with portraits and lanterns that must have been there for centuries. Everything was priceless, perfect. Even through her shoes, Eva could feel how plush the deep crimson carpet was and had the sudden urge to roll around on it.

Yeah, that would go down well.

Despite her exhaustion, the hunger pangs, and the general feelings of anger and apathy that were still swirling around in her head… despite it all, Eva was overcome with waves of nostalgia. There was something about being here that felt like home, like her childhood, even when it was her first time through the doors. There was something about thesmellof a palace, the musty scent of history, dust, the perfume of long-ago guests, cleaning products and candle wax. The lights were the same warm orange glow as the lighting at home in Skärov. It was all a bit surreal when just a couple of days ago, she’d been in her tiny apartment with Abbie, unaware that any of this was going to happen. It felt like she’d arrived on a different planet, not a different country.

Eva was starting to feel sick, following after her parents through the endless halls, the warmth a shock after the cold outside. Sick and dizzy and done with everything even though they’d just arrived. Then she felt a gentle hand on her back, steadying her. Eva looked over her shoulder and Magnus was close behind her, clearly having noticed that something wasn’t quite right. She wanted to shrug him off but didn’t. As much as she hated to admit it, the sturdy hand on her back made her feel better. At the very least, if she fell over backward, someone would be there to catch her. And she’d get her wish to roll around on the carpet.

Just when the warmth and the lights were all getting too much and she was about to seriously consider asking if there was a chair she could sit down on, a set of double doors were opened and the footman announced their arrival.

“Their Majesties King Lars and Queen Andrea of Skärov, and Their Highnesses Prince Magnus and Princess Eva.”

Thankfully the air was cooler in here, and Eva stole a look around as she bobbed a curtsey to their hosts. She might be bitter about this meeting, but she couldn’tnotcurtsey to another royal. It would be like trying to cut off her own hand or change her own DNA.

The room was slightly more modern than the halls they’d been led through, with lots of creams and whites and gold accents scattered about. A large round table surrounded by delicate chairs dominated the space, and the walls were once again covered with priceless artwork of landscapes and ancestors long dead.

The king and queen of Eschenberg looked just as polished as they did in their press photos, King Josef a tall if slightly frail-looking man while Queen Clara moved about much like a swan, a perfect example of a hostess as she greeted Eva’s parents.

Eva and Magnus waited patiently for their turn to be welcomed as the second most important guests. Eva had to suppress a snort at the rigid hierarchy of it all. She was the one getting married off, but heaven forbid she get greeted first. The nostalgia that had swamped her walking through the palace was quickly getting washed away by irritation and the sudden reminder of why she’d fled to New York in the first place.

“Are you all right?” Magnus asked her quietly as the elder royals talked, his hand still hovering close by. She must look as rough as she felt, then. What a great first impression.

“I’m fine,” she said flatly, a complete lie, but nudged Magnus’s foot with hers, a white flag of truce. He looked like a kicked puppy, completely downtrodden. Her parents had probably raked him across the coals for the amount of garbage the press had published about him. And here he wastryingto make her feel at least a little better. The anger was just making Eva feel worse and worse. She could save it for her parents. Magnus looked like he was suffering enough. He gave her a quick, if still abashed, smile at her toe nudge, and they quickly returned their attention to the task at hand, being a good prince and princess.

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