Page 1 of Royal Rebel

PROLOGUE

TRISTAN

“I’m fucked. Completely and totally fucked. The king is going to have me beheaded in front of the entire country.”

I should have been home hours ago, technically yesterday, if I’m being honest. Looking down at the illuminated clock located on the dashboard of my Bugatti, I grimace as the blue numbers turn to four a.m. The sad thing? I know what I’m required to do and I’m failing miserably before I’ve even started. The remnants of a teenage kid who went through a rebellion after his mother died, and then grew into a young adult who still hasn’t dealt with his feelings.

“That’s one way of putting it, Tris, and he’s your father. I doubt he’d behead you in front of everyone. More than likely he’ll give you a private dressing down. Public isn’t his style.”

A smirk twitches at the corners of my mouth as my goodfriend and member of my royal protection team,Parker holds on tight when I take a turn at almost one hundred miles an hour. He’s used to it, but his legs still slide across the leather of his seat. A noise in his throat is the only other giveaway of how fast I’m going.

“Perhaps slow down? Getting there quicker isn’t going to make it any better if your father is waiting on you.”

Chuckling, I question. “Faster? You want me to go faster, you say?” I press my foot to the pedal harder, enjoying the way the car designed specifically for me responds. Gripping the steering wheel, I hold on tight as it gives a jolt and accelerates forward. Speed is the one thing I’ve always loved, maybe it’s because it’s the one thing that tore my life apart.

Parker gives a yell as we’re jerked back in our seats by the force of the acceleration. The city is asleep in the eerie quietness of the early morning, but the lights pass by in a blur as I make my way downtown, heading for the residence I keep while not in the country.

“Not so fast!” Parker is pressing an imaginary brake so hard on the passenger side floorboard that I can hear it from where I sit. If the undercarriage wasn’t reinforced, he’d probably have put a hole in the damn thing.

“No worries, it brakes like a dream.”

The tires squeal lightly as we come to a halt in front of the gates. They open once the guards inside see who I am. Conservatively, I drive to the garage, park the car, and then as quietly as I can, sneak into the main house through the kitchen entrance.

“Tristan!”

“Shhh,” I shush the head of the kitchen. Mary has worked here since I was a child, and I can always count on her to use discretion. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” I grab afresh biscuit off the counter before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Again, with the stealth of a ninja, I navigate through the main room and then the hallway. The stairs are in my sights when I hear a throat clear behind me.

“Tristan, where have you been?”

The loud, commanding tone of King Phillip, better known to me as my father, stops me in my tracks. Pasting on a smile, I turn. “Out for a morning run? Couldn’t sleep and got hungry?” I hold up the biscuit before I take a bite.

It doesn’t taste good, it tastes like dust as I wait for my father to speak to me. He’s upset, and maybe he has a right to be.

“Don’t pretend I’m stupid. Get to my office now!”

He’s angry, much like he’s been for the past twelve years since my mother passed away. Angry at the world for forcing him to grieve in public, angry at God for taking her away, and angry at me for looking so much like her. I’m a constant reminder of the life he had and lost. Whether he’s meant to or not, I’m the one who’s born most of his worst days.

I’m the person who survived the crash that took her life, and it makes him sad, even when I think it irritates him. No one wants to admit they’d rather lose a child than a wife, but some days, I think he wishes it was me who perished. Breathing heavily, I follow him into his office, knowing I’m going to deserve whatever he gives me. After all, I basically asked for it. It’s the only way I’ve been able to get his attention.

“You know what today is?” He has a seat behind the ornate desk he’s had since I was a child. Back then it’d been larger than life, much like he was to me.

“How could I forget?”

My birthday.

Twenty-five is a big year, especially in our tiny country of Haldonia. It’s the year you can legally rent a car, the time you age out of mandatory military service, and if you’re in line for the throne, it’s when the previous king or queen secedes. They give you six months to learn the ropes, but what is six months when trying to learn how to be a ruler?

You’ve got that right, I’m about to be the king of a freaking country. Know what else comes along with being king?

“She’s here, Tristan.” He steeples his fingers in front of his face. The fact he still wears his wedding ring doesn’t escape me. It flashes with the light from the lamp on his desk.

“My blushing bride, I take it?” The words are pulled from deep within my chest. I’d always thought I would make my own decision when it came to who I would marry. Even though my parents didn’t, and they still had a tremendous love. One that burned bright until the day she died. I, however, haven’t been that lucky. I have yet to meet anyone, and the suitable prospects sure as hell aren’t there.

“You knew this day would come. Instead of gallivanting around and flaunting your status, you should have been serious about picking out a suitable wife. You haven’t done that, and royal custom saysthe marriage is must now to be arranged. You were given time, my son. You blew it, and now you must pay the consequences.”

He’s not lying. It’s time for me to own up to my mistakes like a man. “When and where?” I ask, having a seat in front of him and letting my hands fall in between my legs.

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