There are few things Prince Alexander Barrington is ever wrong about. So when he's charged with teaching Joy Simmons the ways of being a royal, he begrudgingly finds that not only is he wrong about her, but with the way things are going, she might j...
I had yet to utter a complaint to a single soul for having to pack up my life like it was nothing and be integrated in the castle on an entirely different continent.
What was his problem?
Turns out, I didn't have to wonder much. He didn't take a moment longer to launch right into it.
"I see you didn't waste any time," he said immediately and while I didn't understand what context he said that in, I noted the sharp tone of his accent. British, was it? It was the same accent Uncle Albert had, but the way he spoke was nothing like him. His words were sharp as a whip and I didn't need to understand what he meant to know what emotion he was projecting.
I faltered in the face of all his anger. It was jarring, to say the least.
"I'm sorry?" I managed to ask when he didn't elaborate.
"No, I'm sorry, seeing as it must've been a long as fuck flight but you're still here anyway. But then again, anything for the crown, am I right?"
Oh wow.
Someone had serious issues.
"Prince Alexander," Bernice looked like she was going to have a heart attack.
Prince?
Wait, Alexander? The one Uncle Albert mentioned?
This guy honestly thought I was here for greed. Just having met with Uncle Albert, who was honest-to-God bedridden, I couldn't even fathom the thought. Not to mention the fact that this guy, whoever the hell he was, didn't know me enough to accuse me just like that.
And Uncle Albert thought I'd actually like this dude? Ha.
"I...I—" I turned to Bernice who, visibly ruffled, was now attempting damage control. "My sincerest apologies about that, Ms Simmons. Please come, let me show you to your room."
I forced myself to look past him—which was easier now that he'd already turned away like he was done with the conversation—as I aimed a polite smile at Bernice. "Sure. Lead the way."
Anything to get away from here.
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The room was beautiful.
Just like everything I'd seen so far in that castle.
The first thing I did when Bernice left was cast a surprised look at my bag sitting just inside the door, realizing that Rob must have brought it up from the car. With another careful look at the shut door behind me, I promptly went on to throw myself on the heavenly looking bed.
Yep, it even felt heavenly.
I turned to my side as I wondered if I could just forego dinner and hide out in this bed for the rest of my days here.
What would mom think of that?
Hell, what would she think of me being here in the first place?
She'd made a life for herself away from the castle and loved every bit of it. She'd most likely frown at the thought.
And yet knowing that, I'd still made the decision to be here.
I closed my eyes then, trying to envision the best memory of her I had; the one where she'd throw her head back and laugh in that carefree way that she always did, making her look like she had no worries at all. In a way, I guess she didn't. She was so genuinely in love with everything about her life that you'd never think she was ever worried.
She'd had red hair—just like me—although around my early teen years she started to wear it a lot shorter than when I was a kid. It barely brushed her shoulders and was a stark contrast to before but she looked great.
And then, done laughing, she'd pushed her hair behind her ear before saying, "Joy of my life."
She always thought it was clever, so she pulled that out often. Particularly when we were arguing—which didn't really do much to keep either of us angry for long.
She'd died a year ago and even though it was still somewhat fresh, I was at peace with it.
I still missed her. Of course I missed her. I missed her in a way that she was a part of me and would be forever. God, she was still the voice in my head telling me the right thing to do at the most annoying times.
But I was at peace.
Which was why I was ashamed to admit that I was seeking comfort in the memory of my mother than facing whatever opposition was awaiting me outside the door of this bedroom. I bit the inside of my mouth as my mind wandered back to the event in the kitchen, his eyes so full of anger.
It wouldn't matter, it shouldn't—but the implication of it scared me. If he was under such an impression, a misunderstanding... he couldn't be the only one. There had to be more.
I sighed at the thought.
Oh man.
Then I remembered I was supposed to have dinner with Uncle Albert in a while. I couldn't childishly hide out here, no matter how good the idea looked.
Beat it back, I thought to myself after an agonizingly slow moment. Beat it back because he needs you and he's counting on you. People like that guy—prince? whatever—in the kitchen don't matter because they don't know what they're talking about.
Just be you, I told myself. None of the panicking. None of the worrying. Be chill and take everything as it comes.
Yes, I was far from home. But that didn't mean I forgot who I was right after stepping in the castle. That's all I really needed—to remember who I was and why I was doing this. The rest didn't matter.
Because that's how I felt and that's how it would stay.
And that's exactly how I'd learn how to be a princess.
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