I stop at the spot where his car went off the embankment. There’s almost no trace left of the crash now, but I know exactly where it happened and what it looked like the day after. It’s burned into my mind.
I park my bike and flip up my visor, slowly walking to the spot. The knot in my stomach tightens unbearably, and I feel nauseous. I want to vomit as I peer down the slope. Ten meters down, a thick tree ended my brother’s life.
“It’s a miracle you survived, Goldilocks,” I murmur under my breath as my brain starts to spin.
What really happened? Were they arguing? Did she distract him? At the spot where he veered off the road, nothing should have gone wrong. Nothing COULD have happened. Unless someone wasn’t paying attention.
My hands clench into fists, and I take a deep breath. In and out. Then I turn and walk back to my bike.
It’s time for Lady Perlington to answer some questions.
The clock is ticking. My time is running out. Just two days left until I have to move to Harlington Castle.
My heart tightens as I stand in front of the royal family’s crypt: The place where Philipp now rests.
“Why did you leave me to deal with all this mess alone, hmm?” My voice is quiet and trembling because it hurts. It hurts so much. He was my best friend. My safe haven. He was my ticket to freedom, and I was his. But now I’m being locked in an even smaller cage, carrying the burden of his decisions, while he, somehow, is free. And I resent him for it.
A hidden anger rises, overshadowing my grief, and I have to swallow hard. Tears burn in my eyes, and I don’t know how to handle this pain, this anger, or the dark despair lurking in my heart.
My final thought startles me, sending waves of shame and disgust coursing through me. Philipp didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. But he was determined to hide himself, his desires, and who he truly was. To keep it all a secret from the world.
Slowly, I sink to the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of the mausoleum as tears stream down my face.
When did I become so bitter? When did my thoughts turn so dark?
“I’m sorry, Phil. Truly. If I could…”
“What exactly are you sorry for, Goldilocks? Hmm? Go on, share it with your future husband.”
Nicolas’s rough voice is right at my ear, and I let out a scream. Startled to my core, I leap to my feet and try to move away. But he’s faster. He grabs me, pulling me against his chest.
The sudden contact, the feel of his muscular arms around my hips, around my body, sends a shiver down my spine, leaving me more than a little unsettled.
“Ahhh, damn it. Are you insane? What the hell are you doing?” I gasp, both angry and breathless, as his storm-gray eyes bore into mine, holding me captive. And I wonder if his eyes were always this mesmerizing.
He smells like leather and something else I can’t place. But, God, it smells good. So damn good.
Lately, I’ve flinched from touch, especially unexpected and uninvited ones, but his grip is gentle, not hurting me. So, I stay still—at least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Why so jumpy, Goldilocks? Got something to hide? It’s just me, your new ticket to the crown,” he purrs, an arrogant smirk curling on his lips.
Excuse me? Ticket to the crown?
He…That…
The ticking, seething mass inside me erupts with a force I can’t control.
“Ticket to the crown? THAT’S what you think of me? You hypocritical, arrogant asshole! I loved your brother. He was my best friend. He was better than all of us combined. You really think I care about that fucking crown? The fuck I do. I couldn’tcare less! I don’t want to be queen, nor do I want anything else from you. I want Philipp back. I want the pain to stop. I don’t want to hurt anymore. But I made him a promise, and I intend to keep it. So shove your crown up your arrogant, self-righteous ass and leave me alone.”
I can’t hold back the sob burning in my throat. I punch Nicolas in the chest to break free from his grip and stumble backward.
“Just leave me alone. In two days, I’ll be whatever everyone expects me to be. Until then, stay out of my way. I don’t want you. I don’t want any of this.”
Raising one hand defensively, I wipe my eyes with the other. Nicolas stands stiffly, his face unreadable, but his fists are clenched.
Tall and broad, with disheveled dark hair and that leather jacket, he looks dangerous. Dangerously handsome.
Instinctively, I step farther away, unsure of him, which only unsettles me more. So, I do the only thing that feels right in that moment. I turn and walk away.
