Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(84)

After she's gone I curl up on the bed and wish I could sink through it, down through the castle and into nothing.

I hear a faint buzzing sound and roll over. I thought I'd left my phone behind. I barely remember this morning—or was it yesterday?—between the jet lag and the confusion of leaving America and flying here.

Here, not home.

The phone buzzes again. It feels like my limbs are made of cement, like my head weighs a thousand pounds. I fumble with it, almost knock it on the stone floor. That would surely destroy it.

Somehow I manage to recover it and roll over, sighing.



Jason: Ana I'm on my way there.



Ana: No you're not.



Jason: Ana it's all a lie I never slept with grandolf.



Ana: I saw you coming out of the locker room with her.



Jason: You saw a picture of her coming out.



Jason: She was in there with me.



Jason: She followed me in.



Jason: She exposed herself into me.



Jason: She tried to talk me into having sex with her.



Jason: I told her to go away and got out of there and she followed.



Jason: I would never touch her I hate her.



Jason: You're the only woman in my life Ana.



Jason: You're all I care about.



Jason: I'm coming.



Jason: Don't marry the other guy I'm coming I swear please.



Jason: Answer me.



Jason: Say something.



Jason: Ana please.



I bite my lip.



It all floods through me. The last week feels like a lifetime, like it was the true world and what surrounds me here is just a dream. I tap my answer into my phone.



Anastasia: Hurry.



I don't know how much longer he has.



Jason: I'm coming baby.



I stare at the words on my screen and know I have to hide the phone. Mother can't find out. I run to the parapet and throw the phone over, and watch it sail off into the sea until it becomes too small to see. I think I catch a glimpse of its computery guts as it smashes open on a rock, but it may just be my imagination.

I stumble back into the room and flop on the bed. I spin every scenario I can in my head. I must delay, refuse, try and worm my way out of this somehow.

Or I could just refuse. Truly refuse. She says she'll have me held down, but does she mean it? Can't she see how mad all of this is?

I want it to end. I want to go home!

When the seamstress returns with the dress and my maids of honor, I stand up and let them dress me, listlessly moving my arms and legs to put on the dress. They drape a veil over my head, and a pair of ladies-in-waiting carry my tiara on a pillow. I haven't worn it in years, and when they put it on my head it scratches my skin like claws and its weight pushes my chin down. I hate it.

To one side I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my wedding day in my wedding gown.

I will refuse. I will not put on the ring. If Mother thinks she can force me through this farce, she truly does not know me at all. Ana the little girl is gone. I am a woman now, and I make my own choices. I will abdicate. I will throw it all away and run home with Jason where I belong and….

And she can force this on my dear brother. I can't put the weight down, only pass it. Tears well in my eyes. How can I do that to him?

A maze. I am trapped in an impossible maze. Every path leads to some terrible fate. What am I going to do?

Become my mother. I can already feel it creeping up on me.

The hour is at last at hand. Mother apparently doesn't want any stunts. My sisters are not going to be in the wedding procession, it would appear. For all the pomp this will inevitably involve, it's clearly a hasty, rushed affair. No press have been invited, no dignitaries. Only the local families of note will be in attendance to watch me seal my marriage.

I walk as slowly as I dare, tearing every moment out of my mother's grip. I will breathe in every free breathe I can before I surrender to my fate.

No. I will not surrender. Jason is coming. I can feel him the way I can feel the sea breeze or the salt water pounding on the rocks. I can feel him like the sea turning under my feet.

As we approach the Great Hall, I clutch my wedding bouquet until my hands bleed and appreciate the irony of the situation. I am a captive princess about to be wed to a man I loathe and my knight is coming to save me.

The question becomes, will he arrive in time?



In truth I never spent much time dreaming of a fantasy fairy-tale wedding. Knowing that the whole purpose of my wedding was to breed, or rather "to be bred" as Mother always put it, soured my feelings toward it. When I was a little girl, I had only a vague understanding of where children came from, of course. When I grew older the concept fascinated and horrified me at the same time, especially the assumption that I would be subjected to that experience with a man of my mother's choosing, not mine.

My chance at any input into this decision is gone. The valets open the doors to the Great Hall, and I shuffle awkwardly along the red carpet, feeling the weight of the castle above my head as I pass through the doors.

The guests are few and the wedding party is nonexistent. There's a priest at the foot of the throne, standing with Mortimer. Revulsion chills my stomach as I see him, and I freeze in place.