Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(65)

"Oh, I know. I'm not the only one who sells lots of copies of The Royal Exposé, brother."

He quirks an eyebrow. "You've been reading back in the archives, I see."

"I wouldn't be reading such trash if they didn't have a fixation on taking pictures of my rear end. Also yours, for that matter. Among other things. I saw the pictures of your Ibiza trip. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I'm proud of myself. I'm sorry fate has dealt you such a poor hand, sister, but why should I not enjoy my freedom?"

I sigh. "It reflects poorly on the royal family."

"God, you sound like Mother."

The regret is written plainly on his face as soon as he says it. I can feel the color draining from my own, as though my skin is freezing. At the same time, I feel a burn in my eyes.

"Don't say that," I choke out. I mean to yell at him, but my throat strangles the words.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, Ana. You're not like her at all. You're kind and gentle and… loving. I think when you were born, all the warmth in Mother's heart flowed into you."

I can't help it. I beam at him.

"Thank you."

"I wish for your happiness, Ana. I don't want to be king any more than you want to be queen."

"Someone has to do it."

"You were born for it. You are kind and gentle and wise. I am a womanizer and a hedonist. I don't deserve a crown."

"You're better than you think you are," I sigh.

"Yes, yes." He waves his hand. "I've heard it before." He clears his throat. "I have something I should tell you," he sighs.

"What?"

He shifts from side to side and scrubs his hands through his hair, the way he always does when he's nervous.

"Mortimer has been visiting the castle more frequently lately. Thrice this week, and his father too."

I feel a cold, queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"For what purpose?"

"If only I knew, but I'd rather see him gone. You should banish him from the island when you're crowned."

"I should banish him to the moon," I sigh. "Let him sniff after me all he likes. Mother will never force a marriage on me."

"Why? One was forced on her. Do you not remember?"

"That was the past. Those things are not done."

"It wasn't that long ago, sister. Strange as it is to believe, dear Mother was once our age. I've heard rumors of trouble between her and our grandsire."

I wave a hand to dismiss them. "Servants talk."

"Not just from servants, though I do plenty of talking to them, though lately Mother has been exclusively taking old women into her service. I wonder why."

"I'm sure you're still just as popular with the villagers."

"Perhaps."

"Just do us all favor and don't get any of them in trouble."

"Who, me? Trouble?"

"Konstantin, listen." I lean forward. "If you learn anything about Mortimer arranging a marriage contract, tell me. Please."

"If you know, Mother will know you know because I know, and she'll know I let you know."

"What?"

"I will. Even if it means I end up being king. Oh well, I guess after I breed whatever sow mother sticks me with, I can have something on the side."

I scowl at him.

"It's good to be the king." He shrugs. "I've got to run, I have important in flagrantes to delicto."

I snort. "Good luck with that, brother. Remember what I told you."

He grins, waves, and ends the call.

I prop my chin on my hand and check my email. I scroll through the various messages from professors—all automated, generated by the school's message board system—until I come to an email from Mortimer.

"A gift for you," the title reads.

I click the little box and prepare to send it to the garbage can, but against my better judgement, I open it and scroll down.

The message, in its entirety, is: <3

Beneath that is a closeup picture of his penis.

I jerk away from the computer and try not to retch. Slowly, I turn around and try not to look as I hit the Reply button.

Did you send your gift, I type. I can't see it.

Then I hit Send.

Sigh.

Give up my rights and the throne. I don't know what Mother would do if I did. Banish me? Most likely. I couldn't stay home, that would be certain. Any children I had could threaten my younger brothers line if he takes my place.

In America we would be safe, but what would I do here? I could teach, I suppose, or work for a company, but so far I can handle America only in measured doses, with a guide. I would be lost going to work, buying a car, paying my taxes. I don't even know how to cook.

All this luxury has made me helpless. I can't even care for myself.

I jump at the knock on my door.

It's Thorlief. I let him in and sit on the bed.

"Back so early?"

"He has practice tomorrow. He has to be up early to train."

"I see. You're sad."

"I promised him a week. The week is almost over. Thorlief, I need something from you."