Page 3 of The Royal in Room 3

An hour later, stripped of my epaulets, sash, and medals, I sat on my bed, staring at the photograph of my mother cradled in my hands. She’d been so beautiful and kind. At least everyone who knew her said that about her. I’d been too young when she died—only five—to remember much.

How I wish I remembered.

Mother, I’m sorry I let you down.

A knock sounded on my door, and I glanced up as Father entered. Or was he the king of Belvaria at that moment? I couldn’t help feeling the twinge of resentment that shot through me because I couldn’t tell.

“You must have expected this, Soren,” he said softly. “This decision was out of my control, son.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I swiped it away. “You’re the king. Nothing is out of your control.”

“You know Belvaria is not an authoritarian rule. We have checks and balances, and the checks were not in your favor this time.”

“I see.”

But I didn’t.

“What were you thinking, Soren?” Father sat next to me on the bed. “In what world did you think you could love that man and still represent Belvaria after our tumultuous history with Rosenmark?”

“Felipe made me feel seen.”

“Seen? I gave you more attention as the crown prince than I ever have before.”

“As the crown prince, Dad, but not me—Soren. The day my brothers died, I ceased to be your son but rather a subject of the state. Felipe was kind and listened to me.”

Father sighed. “Did you truly not know what he would do, or was this a subconscious way of getting us to take away the title from you? You’ve always made it very clear that you never wanted to be the crown prince.”

“I would never betray our country like that, Father. I may not have wanted to be the crown prince, but I came to accept it as my duty. Do you think I want to be forced to leave my home?”

“That is only temporary. We thought it would be in your best interest to leave Belvaria for a while, but I will get that motion lifted as soon as everything dies down.”

“So, what now?”

“If there is a need, your uncle will be named the Prince Regent until Rasheed comes of age. We are still hoping for a match between him and Isolde. She is a decade older than him, but that is not necessarily a bad thing since she will have the experience to support his reign.”

Rasheed, my seventeen-year-old half brother who excelled at everything.

“The Queen must be elated,” I said.

Father rose to his feet, frowning. “Now don’t make this into something ugly, son. Remember, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t broken protocol.”

Of course. It was my fault and my shame to bear being the first deposed crown prince of Belvaria.

1

SOREN

“You are a prince of Belvaria. The prince of Belvaria does not go to jail!”

I winced at my father’s advisor, Bastian, screeching from the other end of the line. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. No other prince from our lineage—as far as I knew—had ever gone to jail.

And then there was me. First to be deposed. First to be kicked out of the country of his birth. First to have a police record.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea calling home, but it’d only taken three months of being on my own to land in jail in an unfamiliar country because of people who’d pretended to be good but really weren’t. I had one phone call, and the only people I could ask for help were the same ones who had banished me from my country. The situation was sad, pathetic even, but what choice did I have?

Gripping the receiver of the wall-mounted phone inside a California police station, I closed my eyes tight and swallowed my pride. Behind me, a drunk man snored on a metal bench, and the officer who had arrested me for allegedly dining and dashing watched me with open amusement over a bag of pretzels.

In Belvaria, the police were helpful. Here, they took your statement and then used it to laugh at you.