Page 43 of A Fierce Princess

“Come sit, tell me about Princess Susanna,” he says. I sit down next to him. The silky fabric of the eighteenth-century sofa feels cool against my skin. I can smell the oaky scent of his cologne. The room falls quiet as he examines me.

“W-what do you want to know?” I stammer, suddenly feeling a little shy, which is very unlike me.

“Tell me something that no one knows,” he commands.

I square my shoulders and look at him. I think for a moment pondering what to say. Now that my secret is out in the open, or at least known by him and my brothers, there are not many things that are just mine. “I once fell off my horse while galloping,” I offer.

He raises an eyebrow but remains silent letting me finish my story.

“I was riding Mister Jenkins. We were galloping right here, out in the south field, and he was spooked by a fox that ran across our path. I fell off and twisted my ankle rather badly. I was so afraid father wouldn’t let me ride anymore, that I forced myself back on the horse once he calmed down and rode him back to the stables. I told my father that I had tripped on a rock in the garden,” I say.

“And you never told anyone?” he asks.

I laugh. “Well, until now,” I say to him as I peer up at him from beneath my lashes. “So?” I ask.

He cocks his head to the side and gives me a boyish, questioning look. “So what?” he asks.

I laugh and take another sip of the scotch. “Don’t I get to hear a deep dark secret of yours?” I ask as I cross my legs. I see his eyes travel down my body and back up again. I feel chills run through me at the intensity in his gaze.

He laughs. “I’m afraid my deep dark secrets pale in comparison to yours,” he replies with a smirk.

“Well, drastic times call for drastic measures,” I say.

“Like leading a double life?” he presses.

I shrug. “I…needed freedom, something that was just for me,” I try to put into words my thoughts.

“Like dabbling on the dark web and bringing down international criminals?” he muses.

“Well, you make it sound so much more exciting than it is,” I reply.

“Anna, did you never contemplate for a moment just how dangerous your ‘hobby’ was?” he asks. His face changes and I can tell he’s quite serious now.

I take a moment, sipping on the scotch again. Allowing the burning sensation in my throat to consume me as I try not to think about my “dangerous hobby.”

“I never thought of it as dangerous,” I admit.

“Anna, you are a god damned princess, for Christ’s sake! You could have been killed or blackmailed,” he says.

I shrug. “So, you doubt my abilities, then?” I question him, feeling my pride getting the better of me.

He groans. “No. I think you are too brilliant for your own good,” he says. He pauses, and I wait for him to continue. In the five seconds of silence, all I hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. The palace is eerily quiet at this hour. My eyes drift back to his as he opens his mouth to continue.

“Telling your brothers and me what was going on is the smartest thing that I think you’ve done in a very long time,” he confesses. It stings a bit to hear this from him, but sometimes the truth hurts, or so I’ve learned.

“Truth?” I ask. He doesn’t move but continues to stare at me. “It feels good to tell someone. The burden of keeping it to myself was overwhelming at times…and a bit lonely,” I admit.

“What’s the family heirloom that you’ve been searching for?” he asks. I’m a bit taken aback by his sudden question.

I close my eyes…the memory of the last time I saw her floods my every fiber.

“Mommy!” I say loudly as I pick up her lipstick from her vanity.

“Yes, darling?” she says. She’s reaching into the safe, the one next to her closet behind a framed picture.

“Why do you always wear that crown?” I ask her.

“It’s a tiara, my sweet, and my mother gave it to me the day I got married. So, every time I have a special occasion I wear it because it reminds me of who I am and the duties I am responsible for,” she explains.

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