Once we’re in the car, I roll up the partition between the driver and us. Margot buckles her seatbelt and frowns at the partition as it rises.
“What?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Nothing. I just wanted to know who was driving us.”
Shrugging, I sprawl out, taking up the majority of seat. “Who cares? We’ll get where we’re going.”
Her eyes tighten on my face. I can tell that I’ve somehow said the wrong thing, but I don’t particularly care. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride,skatter.”
I grin. Her cheeks flare bright pink. She frowns and shakes her head, looking away.
“What does that mean?Skatter,” she says, sounding the word out.
“It means the one I treasure. My sweetheart.”
Her eyes widen and the bright pink blush on her cheeks turns into a beat red flush. All right, that was kind of fun. It’s entertaining to watch her squirm.
When she looks back at me, there is an intensity in herexpression that wasn’t there before. “What does the palace expect from you, exactly?”
I cock a brow. “What do you mean?”
Her lips thin for a moment. “I mean… you are supposed to be a king someday. That position comes with a lot of expectations, I’d imagine. Along with being born with a silver spoon in your mouth, there have to be downsides. Personal sacrifices. What are they?”
I furrow my brow, looking out the window thoughtfully. “Every word I say is recorded. Somewhere, somehow. Everything I do is pulled apart and searched for motives.” I wrinkle my nose briefly. “That’s why I liked being a nobody in New York. It’s nice to set aside the political correctness and the strict guidelines and just… be anonymous for a while.”
When I glance back at her, I see her scribbling in that notepad of hers again. “I can see how that would be hard,” she mumbles.
My lips twist. She has no idea.
Shaking my head, I sigh. “I’ve never been able to just do what I wanted. When I was younger, I couldn’t go to school with all the other kids. Instead, my friend Erik and I—" I stop for a second. “You know Erik,ja?”
She looks up at me, the blue of her eyes taking my breath away for a second. “Yes.”
“Erik and I were tutored together here at the palace. He?— “
“Wait, wait.” She flips a page. “Okay. Is Erik a royal, then?”
I snort. “No. He’s the son of the groundskeeper. My father got drunk with the groundskeeper one day; the next day, Erik was brought into my room to play.” I smile wryly. “I think we were about four.”
She nods. “So you weren’t even allowed to choose your best friend, basically.”
“Nope.” I grin. “I’m lucky that he’s not a fucking psychopath. And if you think that’s bad, wait until you hear how my wife is being chosen for me.”
That seems to actually shake her. She stops writing. “What?”
“Yep. I was presented with a list of young, eligible ladies. Each one with a pristine pedigree, each ready to produce as many heirs as I want, each one as boring as the next. I’ve been told to just point to one, or decide which flavor I want… a blonde, a brunette, a redhead…” I sigh. “And I’m assured that the rest will be taken care of. All I have to do is show up reasonably sober on my wedding day. Voila! Instantly, the perfect wife.”
Margot scrunches up her face. “That sounds…awful.”
“It will be!” I say. “Add to that the fact that I basically live in a fish bowl, with no expectation that any part of my life will ever be private… and you get the royal experience in a nutshell.”
She chews on her lower lip, scribbling a few notes to herself. “Is it worth it?”
I tilt my head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone thinks that being a royal is amazing. It is, obviously. But it sounds more complicated than that. I guess what I’m saying is… does having everything you’ve ever wanted make it worth not getting to make your own choices?”
I repress a sigh, turning my face away from her. “I don’t know. This is the only life I’ve ever had. I don’t know how to live any other way.”
