Royally Yours

Ben

Even without the frigid London air, it was an absolutely shit night to be alive.

Some of it was partly my fault for allowing one of my best friends Jack to goad me into going hard last night. Also allowing him to goad me into drink after drink being poured down my throat. Not that I’d minded at the time. It was a spectacularly good way to forget that I was announcing my engagement in a week, only barely by choice. Not that I didn’t like Tessa. She was pretty enough, gorgeous in fact if we’re being fair. Smart, accomplished. She had also been there for me during the toughest period of my life, losing ⅓ of my immediate family. We had bonded in therapy and while she often gave off the impression that she was a vapid airhead, she was actually pretty funny. So yes, I did like Tessa and getting engaged to her definitely shouldn’t make me want to spend every waking hour in a drunken stupor. But here we were.

Because she wasn’t-

No, don’t you even dare think about her.

" You look like vomit,” my brother, Charles, pointed out needlessly in a hushed voice while smiling for the cameras lining the entrance to the Love’s Charity Gala. Charles, or His Royal Highness King Charles Montague the third as he was now known, was always good with the press even under the worst of circumstances. He was never without his registered winsome grin. I, on the other hand, could not manage more than a grimace.

" I feel like vomit,” I informed my brother in a similar tone, ” Just whose idea was it to have so much pink in one entryway?”

The entryway in question was adorned with pink balloons, lacy frou-frou’s and fabric so gaudy and voluminous it could swallow up a body and no one would notice.

Thankfully, the doors finally opened and we were let into the - gloriously press-free- hall, with somehow even more pink vomiting over it. Great.

“Are you sure it’s the decor that’s getting to you?” Charles asked, ” Or the fact that you crawled into your penthouse at 2:00 am this morning barely conscious?”

“Why not both?” I glanced at Piper, Charles’ wife, hoping she would find this an appropriate moment to pitch in. Charles had his lecturing voice on and I wasn’t sure I could tolerate it with the headache from satan I currently had.

Piper caught my gaze and like the utter darling she was, she said, ” Charles your brother’s not 15 anymore. Plus its been a hard few years for him after we lost your grandmother, I think he’s overdue a drinking binge. ”

I smiled at her gratefully. This was why I adored my sister-in-law. Not only was she the only person even semi-capable of putting up with my brother for long periods of time, she knew exactly when a man had need of a drinking binge and I had not had a good binge in...well, years.

“Thanks Pipe,” I said.

“Although,” she continued, ” They probably should have done a better job on your makeup love. You do look positively green.”

I gave her a look of mock incense. ” Piper, how dare you? I’ll have you know this is the face that won world’s sexiest bachelor the minute I turned 18. You used to love this face.” She had teased me endlessly about the magazine cover. Truth be told, I had only agreed to do it as a joke.

Also because you thought you would get some attention from a certain someone you pathetic wanker.

I said stop thinking about her!

" That was ages ago,” Piper joked back, ” Back when you were young and lovely. But I’m afraid to tell you love, you’ve aged.”

I gasped. ” You take that back or this is the end of our torrid affair.”

Piper snorted like she usually did whenever I brought up the Daily Mail article that swore up and down that Piper and I were having an affair. In all fairness, we had been pretty close back then when she started dating my brother, but we never saw each other in that way. She was like the sister I never had and while flirting with her was a sure way to get my brother’s danders up (which I enjoy doing) it never went much further than that.

“Well, while you were out indulging,” Charles’ voice was not amused in the slightest, although he never lost his smile as we walked through the din smiling and greeting in accordance of his role, “It would behoove you to remember that you are not just anyone who can be seen knackering about like a drunk. You are royalty. If not for Duke, your face would have been plastered all over the Daily Mail. Again.”

And here. we. go. ” Why not? Wouldn’t want them to run out of material. You know the newspaper industry is really in a tight bind brother.”

" You could at least wait till after your wedding to cause another scandal.”

" No of course not, we can’t have a scandal before a wedding can we?” I shot back.

I immediately regretted my remark, not because of the way my brother momentarily lost his smile, but for the pale expression that came over Piper. I knew she was probably remembering the prelude to her wedding, the tabloid rumors of her princely soon-to-be husband texting another woman. Except they weren’t just rumors.

Charles glared at me, but was saved from making any other comments by a foreign dignitary who came and bore him away. Piper started to follow with the same pale look. I caught her arm before she could leave. Even if my brother completely deserved that comment, Piper didn’t.

" Piper, I’m-”

“It’s ok,” she shook her head at me lightly, her smile a little too bright.

Not here, her eyes seemed to say. I let her go.

At some point in time, part of me had wished I had been in love with Piper, if only to steal her away from my prick of a brother. He did not in any way deserve her. Plus, it would have made my life a lot easier to fall in love with someone like Piper. While not a royal by blood, she had been able to adjust to the lifestyle tremendously bearing the constant scrutiny, unending social events and lack of even the most basic freedoms like a champ. It was no wonder they called her the people’s princess. She had basically won over the entire country with her charm. It would have been so simple to fall for her.

Instead, I could not get my mind off the one person I knew could never do any do any of that. The one person I could never even ask it from. Because even someone of Piper’s strength, when the scandal had started and the vultures had descended, was nearly turned into a ghost of her former self. Still reeling from the betrayal, the paparazzi had nearly eaten her alive.

" This is some ripe bullshit,” I heard to my right as Jack appeared, looking probably as bad as I did. He was decked out in a blue suit, his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck and his fiery red hair, which he had tied to the nape of his neck, looking like he had dunked it in water briefly before his appearance.

Jack had been one of my longest friends, from our meeting in an English boarding school in the country. We hadn’t really gotten on when we’d first met, his family being Scottish loyalists and mine being English royalty. However, after 6 years of mischief and serving in the military together, I’d found he was good people. Jack was now estranged from his family, after deciding to shirk the family business and getting his own security firm ( with yours truly as a partner) but he was still very much still regarded by some as royalty.

" I didn’t know they invited your ilk to these,” I said wryly.

” I wish they didn’t, but someone has to show their face to keep the shareholders happy. I feel like absolute shite. I wouldn’t have come if Parker hadn’t mysteriously come on with the flu about 2 days ago. “

“ Didn’t your head of PR also have the flu when you were supposed to meet with the Arabian prince in Bora Bora.”

“That he did. And also last year, when one of us had to go to the English games.” A pause. “ Me is beginning to think this bug of his is mighty selective.”

He shook his head. “ Not that I blame him, but damn it, it’s his damn job. I don’t want to have to do this either, and this is cutting into quality rugby time.”

Jack played in a rugby league with some “at-risk” youth every Saturday night and could be found grouchy for the rest of the week if he missed it.

“ How long is this supposed to go on for anyway?”

I shrugged. ” 5 or so hours.”

“Jesus wept,” he swore, then looked around wildly. ” I need to find stronger alcohol.”

" I think that’s what got us into this mess in the first place mate.”

" Doesn’t matter. I don’t think I can make it another hour without- shit.”

“What?”

Jack was silent for a beat, enough time for me to turn and glance at him. “What?” I repeated.

" Nothing, just...whatever you do, don’t turn around.”

That, as you can expect, had the opposite effect from what he likely intended, because I did in fact turn around.

I didn’t see it at first, my eyes too quickly scanning the crowd for what had drawn the reaction from my friend. But then, then I saw it. I saw her.

Amara, her name whispered in my mind. I didn’t know if I said it out loud or not. I couldn’t really hear past my own pulse.

It really was her. And she looked exactly the same.

Maybe not exactly, I realized as I continued to stare. Her hair was drawn back in a tight bun, no longer in a curly cloud around her face or twisted plaits as she usually wore it. She was wearing a simple white gown which revealed that her body, while still long-limbed and slender, had now acquired some smooth womanly curves it didn’t have before.

But everything else, the shiny brown gleam of her skin, her almond-shaped eyes, the slight dimple in her cheek. All of it was exactly the same.

Time had not dulled my response to her. That was exactly the same too.

What was she doing here?

I knew- because I had still been pathetically keeping tabs on her as recently as a year ago- that she had finally launched her non-profit, Light Up the World. They used solar energy and other renewables to help farming communities in Subsaharan Africa. They had won a few accolades at their launch, and I remember staring at the photo of her accepting the award again and again, until disgusted with myself I had clicked off the page and swore to no longer type her name in a browser ever again.

Right now, she was talking to a short middle-aged woman in expensive-looking clothes. She was probably here looking for investors for her charity. Which meant she was working. I should definitely not go over there, for more reasons than one. She was busy. We were surrounded by people. And she looked far too good.

But then it happened. The old lady said something and Amara smiled. It wasn’t the fake smile she sometimes gives to people to be polite. Her eyes wrinkled up in genuine mirth, sending a bolt straight to my chest. Her smile was, had always been, my kryptonite.

I heard Ben say something, likely a warning, but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t stop my feet from walking to her anymore than I could stop my heart from increasing its pace the closer I got.

I took her in while she was still unaware of my approach. Her dress made her skin glow like it was polished. She was listening in rapt attention to the old lady and I knew how intoxicating it was to have all that attention on you. She was so attentive, she did not hear my approach until I was a breath away.

I knew the exact moment she became aware of me. She stiffened and I could see her breath hitch in her throat. I also heard a startled “oh!” from her companion, but I could not take my eyes away from her. Look up, I compelled her silently. Look up and see me.

I could tell she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes on her companion as long as possible, long after the lady had stopped talking and was now staring at me as if I had sprouted an extra set of heads. I could look away, maybe start a conversation with the lady, but sadistically I kept my eyes on Amara. It was almost a dare. Look up. Amara’s smile tightened and I took note of the exact second she realized that her companion would not be drawn back into conversation. That I would not simply walk away.

Then, she looked up.

It is remarkable how the world can completely shift on its axis and yet remain in motion. Everything should have stopped the moment our eyes met. The universe should have simply imploded from the sheer magnitude of emotions bombarding between our gazes. Instead, the ball continued to go on as the same.

Except everything was completely different now. Because she was here.

" Oh, your majesty,” I glanced away briefly to look at the lady, whose face was now becoming more familiar to me, ” It’s nice to see you again.”

I did know her from somewhere, I realized. I couldn’t quite put my finger on where, but the features were familiar.

" It’s nice to see you as well ma’am. Looking lovely as always,” I smiled and she blushed. Then, I glanced pointedly to Amara, ” Did you want to introduce your companion?”

“Oh, of course, your majesty. This is Amara Cobie. She was just telling me about her charity, Light Up the World. They provide solar panels to homes in SubSaharan Africa. I was just telling her what a wonderful thing I thought it all was.”

I nodded politely as if this was the first I heard of it. As if I had not been secretly following her career since the moment she first told me about her ideas nearly 6 years ago.

" That’s quite impressive,” I said, to Amara this time. She was actively avoiding my gaze, now staring at a spot over my shoulder. Her discomfort simultaneously brought me pain and pleasure. Because it meant she was aware of me. That she had not forgotten. Even though she obviously wanted to.

" Isn’t it?” Mrs-something continued, ” I was just about to go fetch Harold to hear more about it. You remember my husband don’t you? He now does quite a lot of donating in sub-Saharan Africa now, inspired by you of course.”

Now I remembered who she was. Cynthia Foster, wife of Harold Foster, owner of telecommunications empire. We had met while installing telephone lines in a village in Nairobi. I recall reading that he had a heart attack recently.

“Glad to hear it,” I said,exerting more effort than I thought possible to keep my gaze on Mrs. Foster, ” How is Harold doing?”

" Oh he is doing much better. We’re keeping him away from the fats, he’s dropped near 1 stone. I can go fetch him if you want, I’m sure he’d like to see you again.”

Leaving me with time, alone with her. Perfect. ” Well, you should probably go do that then,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. Too greedy.

Mrs. Foster nodded. “Yes, well. “ She smiled at Amara, “Be back in a jiff dear.” And she was off. This time, I did not try to stop my eyes from straying to Amara. And she was looking at me now, Right at me. Anger and longing were in her gaze, were probably echoed in mine. I thought about all the things I wanted to say to her, swore I would say to her if we ever met again. But as she looked away, the only thing that could come out of my mouth was “Hi.”

I didn’t think she was going to reply at first. She currently seemed incapable of taking her eyes of my lapel. And then, “Hi.”

Her voice washed over me, soft and accented with a slight rasp like I remembered it. A voice I still dreamed about when I let myself.

’” What are you doing here?” I asked like the absolute knob I was. It sounded like an accusation. Like it wasn’t obvious genius.

Her eyes came up to meet mine at that. “I’m here for work,” she explained her hands loosely gesturing to her nametag. “ Light Up the World needs more investors and I’m here to find some.” Her tone was defensive, as if distressed I would think she was here for any other reason. Like stalking me. As if I would be so lucky

I smiled nevertheless because she was so cute when she was nervous. “I know. I don’t know why I asked.”

She didn’t smile back only looked more nervous. “Yeah, I guess we already covered that didn’t we?′

“Yes we sort of did. ” We fell into silence after that, and I could see her glancing around, plotting her escape. I should let her. She clearly didn’t want to be around me. Why was I punishing both of us by standing here?

There was soft music playing in the background and people had cleared a small space for dancing. Cynthia Forson still hadn’t located her husband. I shouldn’t though. It would be highly inappropriate to ask her to dance, especially not with the people milling about. The rumors that could be started. The potential ruination of her life.

“Well, it was nice-” Amara started.

" Do you want to dance?” I cut her off.

Her eyes went wide, and she was already shaking her head no. ” Oh no, I don’t think that’s a...”

" I mean it would be strange if we didn’t,” I gestured behind, ” Everyone’s doing it now.”

About half of the people in attendance had already begun a slow waltz. The other half seemed wrapped up in conversation. It was an intimate event and it would indeed be awkward to see one person standing on the sidelines doing neither. While I didn’t mind a little bit of awkward, I knew Amara hated anything that made her stick out negatively. Which should have raised red flags that she was here in the first place, but for some reason, it didn’t.

I could see her weighing the options, glancing around perhaps to see if Mrs. Foster was returning any time soon. She wasn’t, now caught up in a conversation with another woman. As much as I hated to use Amara’s insecurities against her, I was willing to for more time with her. And if that made me an asshole, then so be it.

“It’s one dance Amara," I added, when I saw she was still hesitant. “ Surely one dance with me is even slightly better than you standing here looking like a fish out of water?”

A worried look. “ Did I really look that out of place? It’s the dress isn’t it?”

The dress was fine and she was gorgeous but I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I shrugged and held out my hand. She stared at it, then seemed to make a decision with that, and nodded resolutely.

“Fine, ” she said, with an expression like she had been condemned to the guillotine, ” One dance.”