Resilient Reign Read online

  The bed was made, leaving no evidence of last night’s activities.

  Slowly, I turned toward the wall of bookcases.

  I knew which case moved, but not how Roman had moved it.

  Was there a mechanism?

  A switch?

  “Princess.”

  With a gasp, I spun, coming face-to-face with the prince. A scowl replaced the caring expressions of last night. It was then that I noticed Lord Martin, only a few paces behind Roman, still within the hallway. Curtsying, I addressed my husband, “Your Highness.”

  “What are you doing in here?” His question boomed such as the sounding of an alarm, a perfect improvisation of an aggravated version of his predecessor.

  Recognizing his ad-libbing, I lowered my chin and responded appropriately. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I thought you’d left for Molave City.”

  “And you came into my suite—my bedchamber?” He turned back to Lord Martin, his voice raised. “Wait for me in the connecting parlor.”

  “Your Highness,” Lord Martin said with a bow.

  Roman slammed the door to his bedchamber shut and turned my way. “What are you really doing?” he asked in a much softer tone.

  My chest fell as I exhaled.

  While my mind and heart were capable of identifying the new Roman, there was still a moment of trepidation when he nailed a believable performance copying his predecessor’s demeanor. “I don’t know.” I looked around. “I was drawn here.” I shrugged. “The room. How do I access it?”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  I straightened my neck and squared my shoulders. “I should. I will be alone for an indeterminate amount of time.” My hands gestured toward the windows. “My garden is unavailable. I have time.” My pleas came faster. “I can read and learn and pass what I learn onto you.”

  “And if you’re found with Noah’s writings? What then?”

  “I’ve told you,” I said, my tenor strong and my volume low. “I’m nothing to the royal family, nothing but a sparkling accessory or a baby maker. I’ve failed at one, and the man I thought was my husband resented me for the other. My daily schedule will arrive with a full two hours of activities. That leaves twenty-two hours a day for me to fill. I want to fill them with learning more.”

  Roman’s chiseled jaw was rigid, his cheeks freshly shaved, and his brow furrowed. “No. It’s too great of a risk.”

  “A risk of what?”

  His strong hands reached for my shoulders. “You, Lucille. I won’t risk you. I’ve decided to approach Mr. Davies and cancel your procedure. If the king questions me, I’ll tell him the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  He released his grip. “That I was told about the possibility of divorce, and I support it. The previous Roman—the real one as far as I’d say to the king—made any reunification between the two of us impossible. You hardly speak to me. I’ll tell him I insisted on dining alone with you, and the entire experience was horrid. It would be best if I could start over with Inessa.”

  Inessa.

  My mouth grew dry while simultaneously, my eyes moistened at the sound of her name from Roman’s lips.

  “Inessa?” I questioned too loudly. “That’s the princess’s name. You know it now.” Had he researched her since last night? “You plan to replace me. What does she look like? Is she younger than I? Prettier? Are you truly to discard me so easily?”

  In a step, Roman was on me, his one hand in my hair, twisting my long ponytail, and the other on my lower back. His long fingers splayed, pulling my hips and core flush against him as his lips took mine, stealing my words. Unlike our kisses throughout the last few nights, this one was dominating and possessive.

  If this were Roman’s predecessor, I would be frightened of what was yet to come.

  He wasn’t.

  I wasn’t.

  This man was the one who throughout the last week had been kind, reassuring, and even protective. This was the man who had brought me pleasure and held me as if I were a precious crown jewel. This wasn’t a man to be feared and my body knew it.

  As my scalp cried out and his erection pressed against my stomach, mini explosions ignited beneath my skin. From my head to my toes, the energy of his kiss detonated my nerve endings until the only rational thoughts I could process were of him.

  When our kiss ended, Roman held my face close to his.

  The rumble of his deep tone and measured timbre reverberated through me.

  “There has never been a woman I wanted or desired more than you.” Pinching my chin, he held my stare. “Inessa is neither beautiful nor ugly. I’ve spent my life pretending to love women I barely tolerated. I can do that.”

  I tried to free my chin, but his grip intensified, teetering on painful. “Roman, I don’t want you to do that.”

  “I will because in doing so, I will free you.”

  “I don’t want to be free if it means being without you.”

  “I’ve made my decision, Princess. As prince, I have the ability to overrule you.”

  “Please,” I pleaded.

  “Live, Princess.” He released my chin.

  Tears spilled from my eyes as Roman turned toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he straightened his shoulders. With only the view of his back, I heard him speak.

  “I’m leaving for Molave City. I’ll talk to Papa and report back to you.”

  “The procedure,” I managed to say, wondering why I’d want to have a baby made with the sperm of a man I no longer knew, and also understanding that without that procedure, I would be leaving Molave.

  “I will cancel it.” He didn’t turn to face me. “Goodbye, Lucille.”

  I stood motionless as Roman walked away, leaving me in his bedchamber all alone.

  Slowly, I moved to a large set of windows that looked out on the surrounding property. Gray skies covered the blanketed landscape. The frigid and gloomy view fit perfectly with my onset of emotions.

  “Your Highness.”

  With tears sliding down my cheeks, I turned to my mistress.

  “Lucille?” she questioned as she came closer and gently reached for my chin. “I will get you an ice pack.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll have my tea.”

  “Your breakfast is waiting.”

  Inhaling, I wiped my cheeks and turned to Lady Buckingham. “It’s over, Mary. I tried.”

  My mistress stepped closer, and in a rare display of affection, she opened her arms.

  Without reservation, I stepped to her, leaning my cheek against her shoulder as tears for what was never meant to be bubbled into ugly sobs. I didn’t explain what I was feeling because I couldn’t.

  If I tried the explanation would come out as babble—insane, incoherent, and unbelievable. If I were to explain, I’d have to tell my mistress that I’d finally found the man I could love and support without question. To say the man was my husband, but not. That man reminded me what it was like to be adored. And in a quest to save me, he’d broken me.

  Roman/ Oliver

  Lord Martin sat at my side as our vehicle within the small caravan of royal-fleet cars progressed south through the Monovia region. It wasn’t necessary to tell my assistant that I wasn’t in a mood to talk. Some things about Roman Godfrey were becoming second nature, such as exemplifying my foul disposition.

  Even with the overcast skies, I had a better view of the mountainous landscape. With each hairpin turn in the road and steep drop-off, I had a better understanding of Lucille’s anxiety regarding our trip to Annabella. If I’d been better acquainted with the topography of the land, I would have never risked our lives during the heavy snowfall.

  With my expression stern, I watched beyond the windows while my thoughts went back to finding Lucille in my bedchamber. To finding her and to leaving her. I wasn’t an empath, yet I’d grown sensitive to her moods and knew what my decision had done to her.

  The choice to divorce wasn’t an easy one to make. No matter how many times I told myself this was an acting job, I knew that I was lying. Or perhaps only misleading.

  Yes, I’d been hired to play a role.

  There was a fortune accumulating in an offshore account for when the job was complete.

  None of it mattered.

  Noah’s writings confirmed that the role of Roman Godfrey would be my last.

  I’d never see that accumulating wealth.

  Any thoughts of retiring with the crown’s money and keeping Lucille Sutton at my side were ludicrous. I’d signed my vow knowing the finality of my decision. The same couldn’t be said for Lucille. She’d married in good faith, adamantly denying that she was coerced into the agreement.

  “Your Highness,” Lord Martin said, looking up from the screen of his tablet. “Are you ready to discuss your schedule?”

  Sighing, I turned to my assistant. “Go on.”

  “King Theodore requests your presence upon arrival. Lord Taylor will be in your offices at two to discuss the upcoming summit. Mrs. Drake has requested a meeting. At this time, she can be fit in at four. There is also the matter of other personal requests from visiting diplomats as well as members of parliament. Tomorrow you will join the king in a meeting with the prime minister.”

  My jaw ached as I clenched my teeth.

  By nature, I wasn’t an easily agitated man. In my profession, that of acting, there was a thin line between revered and loathed. One was not to appear too entitled yet also not a pushover. With each success, the line became thinner. “Act like you deserve the success.” “Don’t alienate your costars.” “The Actors Guild will only support you if you support them.”

  There was never a lack of advice.

  In this new role, new life, for over ten weeks I’d been encouraged to recognize the entitlement that came w
ith my position. Even King Theo admonished me for being too accommodating.

  “I will see the king,” I said, answering Lord Martin while measuring my words. “Lord Taylor will need to be rescheduled for tomorrow. I want Mr. Davies added to my schedule for this afternoon. He will come to my offices.”

  “Are you ill?” Lord Martin asked.

  “Your concern is noted. I’m not ill.”

  “The royal physician…”

  “Will come to me this afternoon. Is there any need for me to be clearer?”

  “No, Your Highness.”

  Silence enveloped the inside of the sedan, yet I’d grown accustomed enough with my assistant to know he was waiting for an opening to voice some opinion. Unlike when this all began, I didn’t want his opinion. I didn’t want to think about Lucille’s question regarding the future of Lord Martin, Lady Caroline, and Lady Buckingham.

  I was doing what was best for everyone. When the divorce was finalized, I assumed Lady Buckingham would be reassigned, perhaps to Inessa Volkov. Even thinking her name made my gut tighten and the small hairs at the back of my neck stand to attention.

  I’d looked up her image. The description I’d given of neither beautiful nor ugly was accurate. Unlike Lucille’s coloring, Inessa’s hair was blond, and her eyes were green. She was younger than me, even the real me, at twenty-nine. That made her nine years younger than her brother, the prince of Borinkia and four years younger than Lucille—prime age for childbirth.

  In reality, there was no comparison between the two princesses. From the moment I’d caught Lucille’s blue gaze in the dining room before Rothy’s celebration, the princess of Molave had my heart in her hands. I couldn’t define what could or did incite that extreme emotion in a bachelor of thirty-eight years of age. Heaven knows the tabloids had tried to marry me off to a long list of Hollywood stars. They were all women of untold—and mostly unnatural—beauty and varying degrees of talent.

  Rita Smalls had been the most recent target. She was also the only name that would appear again and again on the list of possible ‘Honeswell heartthrobs.’ It wasn’t only the thought of Rita with the slime-bag Ronald Estes that left a sour taste in my mouth. It was the memory of her explaining our non-exclusivity combined with my learning of the warlord’s demise.

  In all the years of our varying relationship, I had never used the L word. Okay, some words that begin with L, but never love. When a reporter would ask Rita and me if we were in love, we would smile at one another and laugh off the question. When pressured, I’d admit to caring for her or having a long relationship that transcended peaks and valleys in our careers.

  I wished Rita well with her life choices.

  Lucille Sutton was different on every plane.

  Never had anyone’s presence affected me so deeply.

  In the span of six weeks, I’d fallen for the princess.

  That was why I would talk to the king about the divorce.

  In this strange world, the only way to ensure Lucille’s safety was to get her back to the States, back to her parents, and away from the ruthless reign that was infiltrating every minute of our days, weeks, and years.

  “Mrs. Drake, Your Highness?”

  “Schedule the physician and if time is available, I’ll see Mrs. Drake. If not, she too may wait for tomorrow.” I debated about broaching the subject of Andrew. If I did, I couldn’t tell her how I learned about his death. Then again, Dustin said the information was on the news.

  “The queen has requested your presence at dinner.”

  “Yes, of course.” It went without saying that it was odd to be faced with a mother who lacked enough familiarity with her son to differentiate him from an impostor. Losing my mother in my mid-twenties left a void I’d only examined for character development. She died too young of lung cancer.

  Ambulance chasers wanted my siblings and me to pursue a legal battle due to our mother’s years in the air force. While each of us could’ve used the money, not one of us was up for the fight.

  We gave her the funeral she deserved, split what little remained of her estate, and went our separate ways. I almost chuckled aloud at the idea of contacting one of them and informing them I was now the Prince of Molave. Not only wouldn’t I risk their safety, I had no means of contacting them.

  Obviously, we weren’t close.

  I was the oldest by four years.

  My two sisters were united by the same father. Our mother wasn’t a bad mother. The US Air Force filled her life with travel, which in turn meant upheaval in our lives. In a way, I could thank her for where I was today. My vocal skills and ability to mimic accents was all due to my colorful and well-traveled childhood.

  The scenes beyond the windows pulled me from my thoughts. No longer a foreign world, the buildings and city were now familiar.

  We’d left the province of Monovia, traveled through the province of Boutch, and were entering Molave City limits. The snow from the mountain regions was nowhere to be seen. This area had only received a cool rain. And today, even the sky was blue this far south.

  “Mr. Davies?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir. He will be to your offices by half past three.”

  I looked at my watch. It was only after eleven. “Depending how long I’m with the king, tell Lord Taylor to stand by.”

  “And Mrs. Drake?”

  “I want to see her.” And ask her about Andrew—maybe. “Make it work, while giving me enough time to prepare for the late meal.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  People beyond the windows waved as the car slowed near the palace gates. Lifting my hand in a stately wave, I nodded, careful to keep my expression subdued. The revered waves and greetings were much different than Oliver would receive on the red carpet of a premiere or awards ceremony. Still, I wasn’t unaccustomed to the attention.

  That made the indifference easier to display.

  Even with the blue skies, the air temperature had dropped, chilling my face and hands as I stepped from the vehicle. Lady Caroline was waiting along with various other palace staff. Bows and curtsies as well as greetings met me as I made my way into the palace.

  Lady Caroline was to one side of me, and Lord Martin was on the other.

  “Your Highness,” Lady Caroline said. “If I may, before your meeting with the king.”

  Slowing my steps, I led our trio into one of the numerous drawing rooms and closed the door.

  “You look well, sir,” she said.

  My gaze moved from her to Lord Taylor and back. “On with it.”

  “The princess,” she said, “is on her way to Molave Palace.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. After you left Annabella, King Theodore decided the forecast for the next week was too unpredictable. He ordered Princess Lucille here to Molave City. Her presence is needed for banquet and also, so she won’t miss her procedure.”

  My nostrils flared as I exhaled. “My wife should take orders only from me.”

  Lady Caroline bobbed her head. “We are all subjects of the king.” When I didn’t reply, she added, “I apologize, sir. I thought it was best if you were informed before your meeting with his majesty.”

  “Well, fuck,” I muttered.

  “Your Highness,” Lord Martin admonished.

  “Surely,” I said in a whisper, “Roman swore.”

  “He did, sir.”

  “Is the king ready for me?” I asked both of my assistants.

  “Yes, sir. He’s been ready since yesterday,” Lord Martin replied.

  Tugging the cuffs of my suit coat, I rolled my neck from side to side. “Then let’s get this over with.”

  Lucille

  With my mistress at my side, we rode the two hours to Molave City in silence. My thoughts were stirred, and my emotions scattered like particles in a cyclone. The tears I’d shed in Roman’s bedchamber were dried, my makeup reapplied, and my mask in place.

  As our cars neared the southern capital, the gray sky began to break, offering fractured glimpses of light blue. And yet my emotions were far from brightening.

  It wasn’t long after Roman left Annabella that I received the call. Instead of speaking to one of his advisors, King Theo called me himself. He advised due to the prediction of incoming inclement weather, I should immediately head to Molave City. With the forecast of another heavy snow in the elevations, he didn’t want me unable to travel to the palace for the upcoming state banquet. As a side note, he mentioned my appointment with the royal physician.