Royal Line by Carrie Ryan (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📗

in trouble. And Wilder said this was in your best interest.”

“I can’t believe you did this.”

“I’m sorry. But I was worried. If you’re going to go, you need a full-scale security team. What you’re doing is dangerous.”

Dangerous, my ass. I couldn’t help but wonder what my brother had offered her in exchange. He could be quite persuasive and manipulative—despite the fact that he was the quietest one of the four of us. When I turned my attention back to Wilder, he had his arm propped on the roof of the car. “A Peugeot? Really, London? You should have at least taken the Mercedes.”

I lifted my chin to glower at my brother. His snobbery knew no bounds. “What are the chances I can bribe you not to tell Roman?”

He merely chuckled. “I’m not going to tell him.” Hope bloomed in my chest, spreading slowly out to my extremities. Was I going to get away with this? Would it be possible to still make my escape? But then he dashed all hope. “You’re going to do the honors. As soon as you get ready for the party. Your guests are waiting.”

“Wilder!”

But there was no swaying him once his mind was made up. “You know how Roman is, between the paparazzi weirdos and the general lack of security. You knew this was going to happen.”

Last ditch, London. Make it good. “Well, it could still happen if you let me go.”

He lifted his brow, his blue eyes telling me what I knew in my soul. I wouldn’t be making my escape tonight. I was going to go back upstairs and put on the pretty blue frock that would bring out my eyes.

I would do as I was told. There would be no dreaming today.

There’d be no dreaming tomorrow.

And possibly no dreaming ever.

If I were to throw my tiara across the room, would it cut anyone?

If no one cared enough to listen, would it make a sound as it slid across the floor, metal and jewels against marble tile?

And if I were to complain to anyone about the fact that I had to wear a damn tiara to this function, I might as well write first world problem in permanent marker on my forehead and figure out how to kick my own ass.

“Princess London, why is such a beautiful girl as you, standing alone in the corner?”

I held back a biting remark that, at the age of twenty-nine—as of today—I was a woman, not a girl, but I refrained. Snapping at random people who were just trying to be pleasant to me on my birthday just wasn’t done.

“Hello, there. I was merely taking a moment to myself.” I plastered a pleasant smile on my face and turned to the handsome gentleman at my side. He had dark hair, a chiseled jaw, and a smile that would drop the panties of half the women in the ballroom.

I wasn’t one of those women tonight, and probably never would be.

“Ah, sorry to bother you then.” He bowed low. “Happy birthday, Princess. I do believe we’ll talk again soon.” On that cryptic comment, he walked away, leaving me wondering if I was missing something.

“What’s with the snarl?”

I blinked and looked over at my brother Breck, who just smiled at me. The familiar twinkle in his eyes reminded me that I was home, even if I would rather be out with the rest of the world, not pretending like I actually had a right to be here among people who did so much more with their lives than I did.

“I am not snarling. Princesses do not snarl.”

“No, they smile daintily and nod their little heads while they curtsy, and they also use big scissors to cut through ribbons when they open up buildings.”

“And what do princes do?” I asked, doing my best to hold back a smile. It was not good to encourage him, but I couldn’t help it. I loved my brother, even if he was a bit much to handle.

“Princes smirk, they bow, they kiss princesses’ hands,” he said, lifting my hand to give my knuckles a brush of his lips. “And they wink,” he added.

“They wink,” I said. “And that is the best you can come up with?”

“I’ve had short notice. I promise I will come up with something better in the future. Just give me time.”

“And yet, it always feels like I’m running out of time.” I hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but there was no taking them back.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I shook my head. How could I make him understand? “Nothing, I guess. Just having a rough day.”

“It’s your birthday party. You are the center of attention, the literal belle of the ball. You’re home in Alden, in the palace our forebears shed their blood, sweat, and tears for to create their own kingdom.”

“I’m pretty sure there are a few oxymorons in that statement.”

“Why do I feel like there was an implicit ‘moron’ in that remark?” he asked with a smirk.

Brothers and princes, you didn’t know what to do with them until it was too late.

I could do this. Put on the happy face for him. “I will smile, and I will laugh, and I will eat cake, and I will enjoy myself. I just needed a minute to act like a spoiled princess and sulk in a corner.”

“You don’t need to hide yourself from me.”

I didn’t think that was actually the case. I hid myself from everyone. That was how I got things done. And I knew for a fact that Breck, and my other brothers, Wilder and Roman, hid as well.

That’s what made us royals. We hid from the public, and sometimes from ourselves, but we got things done.

And we helped our people.

And that was enough of that.

“Okay, I want cake.”

“That’s my girl. First, you must dance, cake is much later. Aunt Rebecca wouldn’t allow us to cut the cake too early.” Breck screwed up his face when he mimicked her voice. “That just isn’t done.”

Laughing, I rolled