Page 18 of Engaged to the Mountain Man

“Whatever happens, it will be OK,” she says this like what we’re about to discover won’t change everything between us. But of all people, I know that nothing in life is permanent. No one wants you forever, no matter how good you are or how much you try to please them.

I give her hand a gentle squeeze. I try to memorize how soft her fingers are against mine. Try to remember how beautiful she looks when the sun hits those freckles on her face and the way her dark eyes light up when she’s in the throes of her pleasure.

By the time we arrive at Roman’s cabin, some part of me is already preparing to let her go. Maybe it’ll be easy. Maybe the moment she hears I’m not the prince, she’ll reject me. There will be no long discussion, no tearful goodbyes. She’ll simply walk out of my life, and I can pretend that she isn’t walking out with my heart.

Roman opens the door at my knock and beckons us inside. The grim set of his mouth tells me I won’t like what he found.

He points to the couch indicating that we should sit, but I can’t sit. I need to be on my feet. I need to be moving. I pace the length of his living room, my boots clomping across the hardwood floors that he personally built.

Roman’s construction business has done very well. He could live anywhere, but he’s chosen a remote location in the mountains, and he only drives to work when necessary.

“What is it?” I bark.

He looks at me, and I’m almost certain that I see sympathy in his eyes. He’s the big brother of our group, the oldest one and the man that looks out for everyone. Now he’s turned his pity on me. It’s almost more than I can stomach. “She’s right. You’re a prince.”

I’m suddenly woozy. The ground underneath my feet is no longer solid. My voice grows louder and more insistent with each word. “If I were really a prince, I’d know it. And if I am the prince of the Republic of Wherever, then why has no one ever told me?”

“It’s the Republic of Portia,” he quietly corrects. “And your father believed in the eugenics movement. Are you familiar with it?”

From her place on the couch, Aurora gasps.

“It’s that Nazi bullshit. What does it have to do with me?” I wave a hand, trying to understand his point.

“Well, the belief that a superior race can be bred was your father’s whole world, so he thought—”

Before he can finish, the overwhelming realization hits me, and I feel nauseated. “Are you saying because I—” I gesture to my body, indicating my cerebral palsy.

Roman nods, jaw set firmly. “He wanted you gone, and your mother was unwilling to abandon you. Instead, she ran off with you in secret to the States. He started a smear campaign against her, and the whole kingdom bought into it. They thought your mother was a wicked woman who ran away with his heir and broke his heart.”

“Surely, someone called him out on this…this insanity!” Aurora says, getting to her feet. Her hands are fisted against her thick hips.

“That’s the thing about it,” Roman continues, but he’s not looking at her. It’s me that he’s watching. “You were kept from the public eye. From the first moment it was known that there was a problem, you were hidden away. There was speculation, but the king was careful. He only allowed a handful of trusted photographers to see you, always demanding that they capture the right angle. Nothing of your health was really known.”

I think of those images I have of a dark-haired woman who tenderly cared for me and read bedtime stories. My knees nearly buckle. “Where is my mother? Can I meet her?”

This woman gave me life, and she brought me to another country with the hopes that I would be accepted.

“She passed away not long after your fourth birthday.” He stops there, and I can tell there’s more. Things he’s not saying.

I fall to my knees. “It was a fire, wasn’t it?”

The nightmares suddenly make sense. The orange glow that filled me with a sense of doom. It wasn’t a dream. It happened.

“She didn’t survive,” I gasp out through a throat that’s too tight. There was darkness so thick it was hard to breathe. The man coming toward me wasn’t my father. He was a firefighter, his breathing apparatus was the funny noise I couldn’t place. The man must have gotten me to safety.

There’s pressure on my shoulder. Aurora is beside me, her hand squeezing my skin. She’s grounding me, calling out my name the way you might a wounded animal.

Anger and despair war for control. We never would have been there if it weren’t for him. If my father had accepted me, my mother would still be alive. I need someone to yell at, someone to curse. “Where is my father now?”

“He died a few years ago. But your brother, Mateo, is alive. He’s on the throne. He’s nothing like your father. He’s a good man. One who fights for children’s rights and champions those with disabilities.” From the tone of Roman’s voice, it’s obvious he admires him, and that’s a hard feat to pull off. Few men have ever gained Roman’s admiration.

“How good can he be if he’s never sought me out?” Betrayal lashes at me. Doesn’t he miss me? Didn’t he ever wonder where I went? Why my mother left him?

“They all rejected me. My own people. My family.” Only my mom wanted me, and she’s gone now.

Roman continues, “Upon your mother’s death, your father made it look as if you too had died. There’s a whole kingdom out there that doesn’t even know you exist.”

Aurora tries to put her arm around me, but I shrug away her touch. Pain flickers across her features, but I can’t take in anything else. Every breath is a struggle, and this cabin is too small. “I have to get out of here.”

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