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Her guards began to file out of the room. I heard one of them open the front door as I stood there unmoving, frozen with fear.

She finally released my chin and stepped back, sweeping a disdainful gaze over me once more.

“You look like a lowlife,” she told me. “Your wedding outfit has already been made, and I’ll ensure your wardrobe has been updated to fit the newer court fashions. Ianthe will be arriving at the palace in the next few days, and the wedding is the following week. No point wasting any more time, hmm?”

My breath shuddered out of me in a rush. “Please—”

“I’ll see you in a week, dear.” She patted my cheek, gently but in warning, making me flinch again, then swept from the room accompanied by the last of her guards.

I still couldn’t move as I listened to the door closing, footsteps on the porch, car doors slamming shut, the rumble of engines. Lady Potato suddenly slunk out from under the TV unit and made her way over, purring loudly as she rubbed herself against my legs—something she only ever did when I was about to feed her. It was almost like she was trying to comfort me.

My eyes abruptly grew hot as I looked down at her. I would have to take her back to the adoption centre.

Because I already knew I was trapped. There was no way my mother wouldn’t follow through on all her threats if I didn’t do what she wanted, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to Holt or any of the others. Especially not Vince.

Vince.

The thought of my entire life, one I’d worked so hard to build for myself, crumbling into nothing around me was horrifying, but the realisation that I was going to lose Vince—lose whatever this thing between us was—made my chest feel like it was caving in on itself.

I had to go back. I had to marry someone I didn’t even know. Have children with her. Play the empty, bleak part of a prince and heir presumptive for decades and decades while my older brother ascended to the throne and carried out his reign until it was time for mine. I would be an old man by then. Simply a filler until I died and my younger children could take over and continue my mother’s bloodline in its long-running seat of power.

It was all mapped out before me. It had been since I was a young boy, when my older brother, Presius, had begun to realise that he was unable to have children, unable to have heirs of his own. Which meant it had fallen to me.

I’d tried to escape that fate, but now I realised I’d just been running in place for six years. I’d achieved nothing. There was no other life for me, and I’d been a fool for trying so hard to make a new one for myself.

My mother had won.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Vince Is, Like, So Mean to Holt

Vince

I got a little nervous when Crossbody never texted me back with his address. Maybe he’d suddenly changed his mind and didn’t want me at his place.

Maybe my asking had freaked him out. Made him think I was getting too… serious or something. Which I wasn’t. I definitely wasn’t.

I got a little more nervous when he still hadn’t shown up for work by late afternoon, but I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t that weird. He wasn’t performing today, so technically, he didn’t need to come in. But it wasn’t normal for him. He usually came in even when he didn’t have a match, to work out or practise moves, like the rest of us.

At 9.30 p.m., just before the show started, I texted him, You not coming in tonight?

He hadn’t replied.

When he didn’t show up again the next day, I tried calling him. It just went to voicemail. I texted him again asking if he was okay and got no response.

After Saturday night’s show ended, I waited in the hallway so I could stop Holt before he went into the main room to give his nightly speech to the wrestlers. I was worn out and coated in drying sweat after my match against Susan.

“Has Crossbody called in sick?” I asked as Holt and Taylor approached, hand in hand.

Holt’s brows twitched. “No. He’s not here?”

I shook my head stiffly. “He didn’t come in yesterday either.”

The pair stopped in front of me, Taylor casting Holt a worried glance. After a few seconds, Holt waved his hand, but he looked mildly concerned.

“He has no more matches this weekend, so he’s probably just relaxing after the big one with the Ghastly Boys.”

“Maybe,” I said tightly. “So he hasn’t contacted you?”