Royal Rock:A Bad Boy Royal Romance(32)

"What have you seen?" His English was surprisingly good, with a very small accent.

"Stehen," I said. "Plus this estate, and whatever you can see from the window on the drive here."

He laughed. "So nothing then."

"Stehen is a beautiful city," I said.

"True," he conceded. "It is beautiful. But I'm the agricultural  minister, and it's my duty to inform you that the farmland in Starkland  is lovelier still."

"Well, I'll have to see it someday then."

"Soon," Nicolai said, smiling big. "Very soon."

"Good. I look forward to that."

"I'm glad. Starkland can be a very unforgiving country, especially to foreigners."

"I haven't found that."

"You've been protected by the king," he said, laughing. "Nobody would dare offend the king's mistress."

That took me aback. I gaped at him before gathering myself. "I'm not his mistress," I said.

He looked genuinely confused. "I'm sorry. Is this not the correct word?"







"I don't know what you're trying to say."

"Translation error then, let us say. You're the king's friend, how about?"

"Yes. That's true," I said softly, my eyes narrowed.

This man wasn't stupid and his English was great. He knew exactly what he had said.

"Good speaking with you, dear," he said. I wanted to say something else, but he was already walking away.

I was completely blown away by that exchange. Was that how people in  Starkland saw me, just as the King's mistress? That was crazy.

Or was it? We were sleeping together, and we weren't formally dating or  something like that. Oh god, maybe I really was the King's mistress. I  glanced over at Dad, but he hadn't heard a word. He was too busy tucking  into his food with surprising gusto.

"I'm not feeling well," I said to him.

He stopped for a second and glanced at me. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm going to head back to my room."

He put his fork down. "I'll walk with you."

"No, no. Please, stay. Lucy would kill you if you left."

He sighed. "Very good point."

I smiled and stood. "See you tomorrow."

"Okay. Feel better."

I quickly turned and left the room. I felt some eyes follow me as I left, but I didn't care.

They all already thought I was the king's foreign whore. What did it  matter if they saw me leaving the dinner early? I didn't want to ruin  things for Trip, but I also wasn't going to sit there and be embarrassed  for a second longer.

I should have seen this coming. I saw whispers of it in the media, but  nothing in English, and the articles I got translated just came back as  jumbled messes. I knew my name was in the papers, but I couldn't tell  why.

Now I knew. They were saying I was Trip's mistress, and who knew what  else. They were probably blaming me for the war and for all the attacks  in the city.

I got back to my room, feeling tired and angry. That Nicolai bastard was  such an asshole for coming up to me and making me feel awful like that.  It wasn't as if I asked for any of this.

And why hadn't Trip even talked to me? Probably because he knew everyone  thought I was his whore and didn't want to be seen speaking with his  harlot.

I was so angry, I couldn't think straight. I went into the bathroom and  started the shower, stripping off my lovely dress and leaving it a  crumpled mess in the corner.

I couldn't stop hearing that man's voice calling me a mistress. If he  said that to my face, I couldn't imagine what they were saying behind my  back.

I was completely distracted and incredibly angry. I wished Trip would  talk to me so that maybe he could explain or at least make me feel  better.

Instead, I was alone in the shower, fuming about my situation.

I was so angry that I didn't hear the door to the bathroom slowly creak  open or the footsteps come across the tile toward the steamy stall.





30





TRIP





The dinner had been a success, or so my ministers told me early the next  morning. The local barons and businessmen had been stirred by my  speech, which was exactly what I needed. They pledge support and money  at a critical junction.

Except all I could think about was Bryce and the look on her face as I  left the room. She thought I wasn't paying attention to her, but she had  my entire mind. All I could do was think about her, but she was clearly  put off when I didn't bother to return her glances or go over and say  hello to her family.

I couldn't, at least not in front of everyone. I had to invite her,  since she'd be expected, but if I ignored others in favor of speaking  with Bryce, then I risked alienating the locals when I so badly needed  their support. I knew I'd explain everything to her, and soon.

But not just yet. This morning was an important one. I stood outside the  estate as the security team finished their preparations to leave the  estate.

"How's it going?" I asked Hardcourt.

"Well, Your Highness," he said, "we'll be prepared to leave in the hour."

Long lines of trucks stretched down the road as people packed things  into them. Ammunition, supplies, and weapons were all loaded up, along  with the men who would be using them. These were highly skilled and  trained men, and although they were outnumbered, they far outclassed the  rebels. My men were better armed and skilled. They were going to win.

They had to win.

"What are our chances?" I asked Hardcourt. "Be honest with me. Your career depends on it."

He furrowed his brows. "I'd say we have a sixty-five percent chance."







I sighed. "I was afraid of that."

"It's a good shot, Your Highness. A victory here could even turn the war in our favor."

"Or it could be a disaster and I'd have to run away again."

"Yes. That's true."

"Are the men equipped with our latest weapons?"

"Yes, your Highness," Hardcourt said. "Power suits for every third man, plus the full array of advanced weaponry."

"Very good." If there was one thing Starkland was good at, it was making  electronics. We had some of the most advanced weaponry and technology  in the world, but we were still just a small country. I was working on  getting our manufacturing abilities ramped up in the coming years, but  the war was really sapping our ability to scale.

I watched the trucks get loaded, one after the other. These men were my  men, and each of their lives was important to me. Many of them would  die, and they would die for me. I needed their sacrifices to matter. I  needed them to win.

"Listen, Hardcourt," I said. "Kill those fuckers, or don't come back at all. Got me?"

He looked surprised. "What, Your Highness?"

I grinned at him. "I'm kidding. But seriously, kill those fuckers."

He laughed. "I will, Your Highness." He strode off and began ordering  his troops around. I shook my head, worry tying my guts into a knot.

I wanted to go see Bryce, but I knew that would be bad for moral. I had  to stand around and watch men do work that I wanted to be doing. If I  was going to order them into battle, the least I could do was oversee  their departure. They needed their king to believe in them so that they  could fight hard.

So I stood there and I watched. I wanted to be a part of this, but I  knew I couldn't ever do that again. I had to be apart from it all, a  symbol of strength and unity. That shit wasn't my strong suit, though. I  was much more the type to get deep into it and fuck shit up.

The preparations continued. The men were meant to leave soon, and I was  avoiding the need to micromanage everything around me. I knew if I  started that, I'd only make things worse, but it was hard. I wanted to  help, although I knew I was helping by standing aside.

Finally, the men were loaded. More ministers began to filter out of the  estate house to watch the show. The men began to file into their trucks  and then the engines roared to life.

"Impressive, right?" someone said on my right.

I looked over. Richter Johansson smiled at me. "I guess so," I said.

"Maybe not as impressive as the old days, true. But still, all this metal and technology, it's amazing what we can do now."

"Do you ever wish you were a young man again riding off to war?" I asked him.

He laughed. "Not in the slightest, Your Highness, and neither should you. War is for those who can't get out of it."

I frowned at that but said nothing. The trucks began to roll out, and the people clapped politely.

Richter patted my shoulder. "Don't feel down, Your Highness. You're doing very well, all things considered."

"Thank you, Richter."

He nodded and then left.

I stood there alone, watching the trucks pull out into the distance. I  felt a strange pang in my stomach, but I couldn't identify it.

As I stood there, Maximillian came walking quickly up to me from the house. "Your Highness," he said.

"What's up, Max?"

"Your Highness, it's about Nicolai Corvin."

I sighed. "What now? I thought he had been cleared?"

Max's expression was stressed and tense. "He was, but . . . well, you'll find this hard to believe."

"Spit it out, Max."