Page 83 of Scarred Crown

“This is unbelievable, you understand this, right? I feel like I’m trapped in one of your ridiculous stories from when you were sixteen. You and Nicholas used to get into all sorts of sticky situations.”

“Trivial rebellion. Not one of those led to a scandal.”

“Until now.”

“Maybe we can…” My brain is working overtime now. “Maybe we can stay married for a bit and then quietly get divorced?”

“Divorced?” She scoffs. “Have you forgotten who Prince Nicholas is? Bellerive Royals can’t get divorced. Your only option would be for the king, either George or Alexander, to annul the marriage.”

The clock ticks, and I sit in the armchair, anxiety and helplessness warring in me. Why did I agree to marry Nick in Vegas? We hardly know each other anymore.

My mother comes around the desk and perches in the chair across from me. She takes my hands in hers and stares at me until I return her look.

“When you were sixteen, you and Nicholas were closer than I’ve ever seen two teenagers who weren’t dating. I’ve never asked what happened, but something must have. Perhaps I should have asked. His bike accident was proof enough that something was seriously wrong.” She scans my face and releases a deep sigh. “Leaving Prince Nicholas’s opinion out of this, what do you want? Would you want to be married to him?”

A chill of indecision snakes down my spine. Both resolutions are so complicated. At my core, I don’t think there’s any way, drunk or not, I would have married Nick without good reason. I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to this ridiculous tattoo idea—most likely Nick’s terrible influence—if I didn’t believe in what we were doing. Last night, I’m sure I wanted this marriage. I just don’t understand why.

The last thing I recall is playing a silly card game with Nick in the hotel room. I don’t even remember who asked who to get married.

“That’s a really complicated question,” I admit. “We’ve drifted so far apart, and while we obviously became closer in Tanzania…” I toy with the knuckle of my tattooed finger. “I’m just not sure.” My voice catches, and I try to force the burning in my throat to go away. “I don’t know what I would do when he grew tired of me again? If our marriage became an arrangement and not real.” Goosebumps rise across my arms. “I doubt I would handle it well.”

My mother’s whole body softens. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “Whatever happened between you and Nicholas back then, it had nothing to do with him growing tired of you. That poor boy was miserable for months.” She seems to think about it for a minute. “Years.”

“Not over me,” I say with a small shake of my head. Back then, I was the one crushed by his behavior, by the way he discarded me and our friendship. “You’re my mother. What about my misery?” I cry.

She squeezes my hand. “I asked you what was going on between you two. You never wanted to talk about it. You kept saying Nicholas was preoccupied with his girlfriend, and once they broke up everything would go back to normal. But the two of you never did.”

We definitely did not. In fact, when Vicky was no longer in the picture, Nick went from gluing himself to one vagina to sampling as many as he could, including my freshman roommate. Thoroughly disgusting. The memory makes my stomach dip.

When he came out of my dorm room and said what he said, the last shred of our friendship vanished. Distanced politeness ensued on both our parts. For the longest time after that, whenever we were in the same room, I couldn’t even look at him.

I was in love with someone who didn’t exist.

I suppose in some ways believing that made it so much easier to let him go. I’d been clinging so hard, hoping so much, and then all of that just… evaporated. But the pain lingered, for years.

“We’re not sixteen anymore, and there’s so much muddy water between us. I just… but I wouldn’t have done this,” I say and flash my ring finger, “if at least part of me wasn’t completely sure. Even drunk me has a modicum of common sense.”

My mother’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t correct me. She holds my face between her palms and maintains eye contact. “You and Nicholas need to speak honestly to each other and be realistic about this marriage. Do you want it? Can you make it work? There is no divorce, and an annulment will only make sense for so long. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“I’m not still drunk, Mom. Also, I would normally be the one giving this speech.” I sigh and draw back from her embrace.

“You also need to get that tattoo properly tended to. Isn’t it supposed to have a bandage on it? I’ll call Dr. Bennett, the royal’s doctor.”

“Seems like overkill,” I mutter as I rise to my feet. While my mother is right that Nick and I need to have an honest conversation about the choices we’ve made so far, I’m not looking forward to it. There’s no way to have that discussion without revealing all the various ways he’s hurt me over the years as well as the fears I have about remaining married to him now.

“Is Nicholas also branded?” she asks, peering at me over the desk where she’s dialed the doctor’s direct line.

My lips quirk up in a partial smile. “My name—right there,” I admit.

“As I would expect. Only Alex would get his own name tattooed there instead.” She winks at me.

Relief surges through me, and I even manage a brief laugh. She might not agree with the storm we’ve unleashed, but at least she’s not still angry.

She arranges for the doctor to meet Nick and me in his wing of the palace within the hour. I gather my purse from the floor, and I head for the door. Then I remember I should be taking back my role as secretary.

“Are you going to catch me up on what I’ve missed?” I ask.

There’s the slightest stiffening of my mother’s shoulders before she meets my gaze. “King George and I have decided to divide your duties until we’re certain you’ll be continuing in your role.”