Page 15 of Royal Secret

She knows nothing of my true identity, of the responsibility of a crown I may never wear, or of the centuries-old feud entwining our families like thorny vines. And yet, I find myself wanting more time with her, craving the simplicity of these stolen moments.

With a soft sigh, I slip out of bed, careful not to disturb her slumber. The rug feels cool under my feet as I pad toward thetable, where my phone lies abandoned from the night before. Room service, a simple breakfast for two — that sounds perfect. Something to extend the magic of last night, if only for a little longer.

But there, amid the casual scatter of Courtney’s belongings, a glint of deep blue catches my eye. A familiar sapphire, set in an ornate gold pendant, winks up at me, its facets reflecting fractured light.

My heart hammers against my ribs as recognition dawns — it’s the necklace, the one from the portraits of women in my lineage, their poised figures captured in oil paint and gilded frames. That very necklace vanished decades ago, whispered about in hushed tones and longing sighs. It’s more than just a jewel; it’s a legacy, a symbol of our family’s history.

And here it is now, in Courtney’s bag.

There’s only one answer. Her grandmother gave it to her. But how did Anna get her hands on it in the first place?

I bite my lip, the question leading to another one. Does Courtney know about the necklace’s history? Has she been playing me all along? Does she actually know who I am?

Courtney stirs, a soft murmur escaping her lips, and I glance back to see her shift, still deeply enmeshed in dreams. In that moment, decision wars with desire, duty clashing with newfound affection. I reach out, fingers trembling as they close around the precious heirloom.

Courtney is something special, but recovering this necklace is another thing entirely. This could be my chance, the opportunity to prove my worth, to restore honor to my name in the eyes of my parents.

“Forgive me,” I sigh, although I know she cannot hear.

The necklace feels heavy in my pocket, heavier still on my conscience. As I take one last look at her, the woman who unknowingly held a piece of my heritage close to her heart, I understand the gravity of what I’ve done.

Yet, despite the turmoil churning inside me, the decision is made. I need to leave now, with the morning still fresh and before Courtney realizes what I’m doing and starts a fight or calls the police. The authorities would side with me, but I would rather keep Courtney out of such drama. This should be as easy on her as possible.

With the sapphire’s weight anchoring me to the reality of who I am and who I might become, I move toward the window, my path diverging from hers with the silent promise of duty over desire.

I could go out the front, of course, but it’s a busy weekday morning and I would prefer to avoid attention — both from the staff and people on the street. If I can get into the alley next to the hotel, I can call a driver or summon a car to whisk me away with very little hubbub.

The cool morning air brushes against my skin as I ease the window open, guilt twisting my stomach. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I have no other choice, and so there is no point in dwelling on the matter.

I slip through the gap with the grace of one accustomed to avoiding the spotlight, the sapphire necklace still secure in my pocket. The fire escape greets me like an old friend, its metal rungs cold and unyielding beneath my hands.

I descend swiftly, my movements precise, each step away from Courtney’s room a reminder of the choice I’ve made. The dawn light casts long shadows across the alleyway, hiding me from prying eyes. It’s a path I’ve taken before, not out of necessity but for the thrill of anonymity, the freedom it offers — a freedom that now feels like a shackle.

Suddenly, without meaning to, I pause, my breath visible in the crisp air. My gaze lifts to the hotel-room window now far above, and a pang of regret strikes my chest. Would Courtney understand? Could she ever forgive this betrayal woven into an interaction that was nearly unbearably sweet?

Shaking off these thoughts, I focus on the task at hand. I need to blend into the crowd, become just another face in the bustling city. Without my hat and glasses, which I must have misplaced in the whirlwind of last night’s events, recognition is a risk I can’t afford. Not when I’m so close to redemption.

Cutting through the alleyway, I step onto the street with my head ducked. I stride briskly along the sidewalk, my eyes searching for a taxi. One slows near me, and I slide into the back seat with a nod to the driver.

“To the palace, please,” I instruct, my voice steady.

The driver doesn’t even glance at me, which is good. After what just happened — what I had to do — I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to eventalkto anyone.

As we weave through the streets, my mind races with possibilities. Bringing home the lost heirloom could change everything; it might finally convince my father of my commitment to our country, my worthiness to carry on the royallegacy. I can picture the pride in his eyes, the potential for my ascension to the crown suddenly tangible.

Yet, amid the thrill of success, a hollow ache blooms in my heart. Courtney — her laughter, her warmth, the way she looked at me, seeing the real me, not a prince, not a title — she gave me a taste of something genuine. And I crave more.

But duty has always been my compass, guiding my actions, shaping my destiny. For Bergovia, for my family, I must put aside personal desires. The weight of the sapphire in my pocket is a constant reminder of that duty, a symbol of the sacrifices made by those who came before me.

“Here we are, sir,” the driver announces, pulling up to the palace gates.

“Thank you,” I reply automatically, swiping my card for the fare.

I step out of the taxi, squaring my shoulders as I face the grandeur of my future. With one last fleeting thought of what might have been, I turn toward the palace gates, ready to embrace the life laid out for me. A life where the crown always and forever outweighs the heart.

CHAPTER 9

COURTNEY

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