I find Louis in his study, standing at the window with a glass of scotch in his hand. He’s watching the gardens, where Addison is walking with our mother. They’re arm in arm, which still seems surreal. Two months ago, my mother had her dragged out of the palace and banned from Montclaire. Now they’re actually friends, and they get along quite well.
“Looks like everyone is in love with Addison,” I say from the doorway.
Louis turns and smiles when he sees me. “Oh, they go back and forth about everything, but they enjoy it.”
“Two stubborn women who refuse to back down. I can’t imagine why there’d be conflict.”
He laughs and crosses to the bar cart, pouring me a glass of wine without asking. He knows what I drink because he caught me plenty of times in my teenage years sneaking bottles from the cellar. He never told on me.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks, handing me the glass.
“I’m hiding from the wedding planning, the dress fittings, the guest-list debates, and the seating-chart drama.” I take a long sip of wine. “Mother tried to involve me in the napkin discussion this morning. Napkins, Louis. There are seventeen options. I don’t give a fuck about it.”
“Only seventeen? She must’ve narrowed it down from the last time we spoke. There were well over fifty.”
I groan, sinking into the leather chair by the fireplace before tucking my legs beneath me.
This study has always been my favorite room in the palace. It smells like old books and leather with the faint trace of our grandfather’s pipe tobacco, even though no one has smoked in decades. When I was a teenager, I used to hide in here while Father worked. I was reading erotica and listening to conversations I definitely shouldn’t have been hearing.
That’s how I learned most of the family secrets. It was never through official channels, but by quietly observing. Almost everyone forgot I was in the room because I was so much younger than my brother, and most people were focused on him.
“How’s Father?” I ask.
“Good. The doctors confirmed last week that he’s officially in remission.” Louis settles into the chair across from me, smiling. “He’s going to be okay.”
“I’m happy that you were able to convince him,” I say.
“It wasn’t me. It was Addison.”
“I’m grateful that you joined me in New York at that gallery. I think about how different life would’ve been had you waited in the car. The opportunity was narrow and almost missed.”
“Serendipity,” Louis says. It’s the only way anyone can explain whathappened between them. “So, you still snitching and telling Dad everything?”
I roll my eyes at him. “I didn’t tell him everything. He asked the right questions, and I couldn’t lie.”
And he did what he always does. He watched and waited, allowing Louis to fight his own battles.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I finally say, slamming down the rest of the wine.
Louis raises an eyebrow. “That sounds serious.”
“It’s not—well, not really.” I set my glass down and sit up straighter. “I want to move to New York for a little while before I’m needed here for royal duties.”
The silence stretches between us. Louis doesn’t look surprised or concerned. He studies me with that intensity he’s developed over the past few months, the one that makes him seem older than he is.
“When?” he asks.
“After the holidays.”
“For how long?”
“A year, maybe less, maybe more.” I take a breath. “I want to get away and fly under the radar. I’ve been thinking about starting a blog. Maybe some content creation about living in New York as an undercover princess. But nothing that screamsprincess in hiding, just me figuring things out and documenting it from my lens.” I pull at a loose thread on the arm of my shirt.
“Everyone is happy right now. You and Addison are planning this massive royal wedding. Father is in remission. Mother is so distracted by the wedding that she barely notices what I’m doing. It feels like the right time.”
Louis leans forward and grins. “Are you not happy here?” he asks.
“I am, but everyone has their thing,” I say. “You have Addison, the crown, your entire life mapped out in front of you. Mother has her causes and her committees. Father has his recovery, his legacy, his power. And I have …” I trail off because the truth is, I don’t know what I have. I’ve spent my whole life being the backup plan, the wild card, the princess who couldn’t be controlled. But I’ve never figured out what I actually want. I shrug. “That’s the problem. I don’t have anything.”
