Charmed By The Mountain Prince(3)

“It’s a rare king desperate enough to send his daughter off to marry a man like you. But we need an heir.” My mother crosses her arms, her fingers tapping over her elbow. Her face is stern, and written with annoyance. She has no patience for my life choices.

“So what’s wrong with this girl if her dad is so desperate he’ll send her to the crazy man who lives in the woods?” I scoff, dusting the dirt off my palms.

I live out in the woods and make no apologies for that. Most princesses are used to marble-floored castles, servants waiting on them hand and foot, and balls where they wear glass fucking slippers.

That is not the life a princess is going to get with me. I moved out of my parents’ “house” as soon as I could.

“Nothing is wrong with her, per se,” my mother continues. “In fact, she comes across as quite amiable.”

“You met her?” I shake my head and drop the axe onto the tree stump.

My parents came out here to my cabin today to break the news. I live here because I like to keep an eye on things in the forest, and that’s hard to do that when you’re up at the main estate. Well, I guess you could call it the main castle. Our historic castle looks more Winterfell than Casterly Rock, if you want to get all Game of Thrones about it.

And yes, I’ve read the books, and no I haven’t watched the show, because I don’t have a goddamned television.

Still, the castle is a castle. Electricity, internet, washing machines—and beyond those basics, it has top-of-the-line everything.

I avoid the tourists like the plague. They’re just as bad as the dignitaries working the room at every royal function.

Hence, my cabin in the woods.

“We haven’t met her, but she does love to post photos of her life on Instagram. She’s just beautiful. Love,” she says to my father, “explain to him who his princess bride is.”

My father nods and continues. “Her name is Iris and she has the, ahem, requirements of a princess.”

Requirements is my father’s delicate way of saying she’s a virgin. Which to my parents is an important aspect of this dowry they are offering.

Not that I mind. A virginal princess is an instant hard-on no matter how rough and rugged a man lives.

“Okay,” I say. “So this pure princess, where does she come from?”

“She comes from... Elexia,” my mother says. She immediately drops her eyes to the ground, knowing I’m not going to like this answer.

“Are you kidding me?” I snort. This is a goddamned joke. “I bet she’s never even set foot in the mountains. Does she even own a pair of boots? Or know how to snow ski? No way in hell is this going to work. Good try, though.” I shake my head again, grabbing my axe from the stump and walking toward my cabin door.

“It’s not a choice. It’s happening, Garrick. I paid the dowry.” My father’s words stop me in my tracks. “A double dowry.”

“This is really happening?”

“It’s really happening, Garrick,” my mother says, reaching for my hand. “I want a grandbaby. Your father needs an heir. We’re not doing this to be mean... We’re doing it because we love you. It’s time you settled down.”

I tense, running my hand over my beard, knowing that my parents have been lenient with me my entire life, looking the other way when I took a barmaid to bed or a ranch girl to the stables. That’s all about to change. “You’re setting this girl up to fail; you know that, right?”

“Oh, just turn on the charm, Garrick,” my mother says snidely.

There are a few things that anyone who knows me at all knows: I don’t do BS, I don’t pretend, I am what I am, and you get what you get.

“When is she coming?” I ask.

“Tomorrow. Elexia has really put themselves in a financial bind, as I’m sure you know.” Mother grimaces, knowing I’m like my father in a lot of ways. I read as much information as I can about the state of the world economy.

I understand my family obligations; I just avoid the castle like the plague. If my father has a job for me, I’ll do it. He keeps hinting that I could be the royal ambassador, but hell, I don’t want to travel around the fucking world all alone meeting a bunch of leaders who are as dull as my parents’ friends.

“This is really the best you could do?” I ask.

“Well,” Father says, “you did veto the last eight viable princesses, Garrick. You did this to yourself.”

“No big wedding,” I insist. “I’ll show up and do my duty, but I will not participate in some parade around Historic Alpinweiss. Understood?”