Royal Escape #4: Royal Escape, #4

Clara

Two months ago, if you’d told me I’d find myself in Montovia, sitting next to Prince Nicholas on the way to his family’s country estate, I’d have told you you were crazy. My life still doesn’t feel like it’s real.

The scenery outside the car window is absolutely beautiful. There are lush, green hills in every direction, some covered in forests and others dotted with farms or small villages. In the distance, purple mountains with white caps poke into the sky. In some ways it reminds me of Montana, but in others, it’s very different.

Beside me, Nick is looking stiff and nervous. He was the one who initially suggested we head out to Wintervale, but that was before he realized how complicated the situation is with his cousins. I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. I keep my fingers laced through his, but if that helps him, he doesn’t show it.

Eventually, the hills begin to flatten. Then, up ahead, a broad, shining lake comes into view, glittering under the midday sun.

We’re nearly there, Nick tells me.

I plaster my face to the window, trying to see as much as I can. The lake appears to be surrounded by trees on most sides, but on the last, there are wide, green lawns sloping up from the shore, leading to a beautiful manor house. It’s not nearly as large as the royal palace back in the capital, but even from here I can see that it’s just as ornate and beautiful.

Is that it? I ask him.

Yes. Nick seems to be keeping his tone as neutral as possible. Only yesterday, he was trying to convince me that I might prefer the country estate to the royal palace. But after dinner last night, he’s much more reserved.

The driver turns onto a long, winding road that leads toward the house. I take in as much as I can—the wide fields dotted with wildflowers, the pastures where horses graze. The closer we get to the house, the more manicured the grounds become, until soon we’re passing ornate gardens with fountains and sculpted trees.

The manor house is quite imposing up close, but no less beautiful for it. A pair of stone eagles guard either side of the staircase leading up to the broad entryway, and what I recognize as the royal crest of Montovia is carved over the double doors. The Montovian flag flies from the building’s tallest point, and just below it, another flag I don’t recognize. I wonder if that’s the crest of this branch of the family.

When the car finally stops, I don’t even wait for the driver to come around before I jump out of the vehicle. Nick climbs out behind me, still looking subdued.

People have already started appearing in the doorway above. Nick’s cousins departed the palace several hours before us this morning, and they appear to have informed everyone about our arrival. Several men I assume to be valets hurry down the steps and immediately move toward our luggage. Behind them, at a much more leisurely pace, comes Caspar, the oldest of Nick’s cousins.

As usual, Caspar has a smile on his face, even though tensions are high between his side of the family and Nick’s at the moment. Even though he’s far, far down the line for the throne, Caspar looks every bit the prince this morning. His clothing is crisp and regal, and he carries himself like a man who knows his place in the world. The breeze ruffles his red-gold hair as he strides toward us.

Cousin, he says, giving a bow of his head to Nick. I hope your journey was easy and uneventful. Then he turns to me. And Ms. Weaver. A pleasure, as always. He takes my hand and, just as he did yesterday when we first met, kisses my knuckles.

I pull my hand away before Nick can get jealous.

We’re happy to be here, I say, because that seems like the polite thing to do—and, in my case at least, it’s the truth. Thank you for having us. This place is beautiful.

I’ll have to give you a tour later, Caspar says.

I’d love that.

Caspar’s smile widens. It’s a perfectly friendly smile, nothing more, but I feel Nick stiffen beside me.

I slip my arm casually through Nick’s. I’m sure Nick would love to come, too.

I don’t need a tour of Wintervale, Nick says. In fact, I could give Clara a tour myself.

Either way, I say quickly, trying to de-escalate things, I’m excited to see it.

But first we’d like to see our room, Nick says.

Room? Just one? Caspar’s eyebrows go up. We’ve had two separate suites prepared for you.

Clara is my betrothed. We’d prefer to share a room.

I…I see. Caspar no longer looks confused, but rather amused. Forgive me, Cousin, but I thought the betrothal was a secret. Has that changed? Do you want the whole manor to know?

Nick’s mouth tightens, and I’m afraid he’s going to do something rash.

Separate rooms are fine, I say. There’s no need to start any rumors. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time in each other’s company. And it’s not like one of us can’t sneak into the other’s room if we’re so inclined.

Then it’s settled, Caspar says. Come right this way—I’ll show you to your suites.

Nick still looks like he wants to punch something—or someone—as we climb the stairs behind his cousin. I squeeze his hand and lean into his side, letting my head tilt against his shoulder for just a second.

Let’s have fun here, I murmur to him. Maybe we can go horseback riding later?

That perks him up a little. Whatever you desire, Clara. He lifts our intertwined hands and kisses my fingers, and I smile. Nick might not be as naturally charming as Caspar, but he’s trying. And I know he cares about me.

The inside of Wintervale Manor is nearly as beautiful as the inside of the royal palace. Everything is lush and ornate, from the patterned carpet to the gilded wallpaper to the gold-edged mirrors hanging at regular intervals along the walls. But nothing inside is as stunning as the views through the windows—in every direction the land is beautiful, whether we’re overlooking the gardens or the mountains or the lake. I can’t wait to get on the back of a horse and explore it with Nick.

Our suites, thankfully, aren’t all that far from each other—only just down the hall. Nick insists on following me to mine—apparently he refuses to leave me alone with Caspar for even a few minutes. Silly weirdo—doesn’t he know I have eyes for him and him alone?

I’ll let you get settled, Caspar says. Why don’t the two of you meet me in the lake gardens in an hour? I’ll tell Benedict and Xavier. We can have ourselves a nice little family meeting.

That sounds great, I say before Nick can grumble a response.

Caspar gives another short bow before leaving us, and I turn to Nick. I’m so excited to be here—thrilled to get to explore another beautiful place—but my good mood won’t last long if Nick is being a grump. And I know one way to fix that.

Come on, I say, leading him toward the door to my suite. I know a way we might kill an hour.

Nicholas

My cousin may think he’s going to play me for a fool, but he’ll soon see that I won’t tolerate his nonsense.

Clara leads me toward her room. I’ll admit, I can use an hour of distraction, and judging by the look she’s giving me, that’s exactly her plan.

But before we even cross the entryway, a woman’s voice rings through the hall. Nephew!

I turn to my aunt with a forced smile—it isn’t as though I can ignore her. I give her a shallow bow. Hello, Aunt Helena.

She curtsies in response before turning her attention to Clara. And who have we here?

This is Clara Weaver. I turn to Clara. Clara, this is my aunt, Lady Helena.

Clara gives her a proper royal curtsy—she must have been practicing without my knowledge. It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.

My aunt looks delighted by the attention. It isn’t a true necessity by royal standards to give her the honor of a full curtsy—and she certainly isn’t referred to as ‘Your Highness’—but she’s clearly delighted that Clara has done so.

I try to keep my expression as blank as possible. Clara will be accompanying me throughout my stay here in Wintervale.

I see. I can tell by the look in my aunt’s eyes—and by the way she’s glancing between Clara and the door to her suite—that she knows exactly how Clara will be accompanying me.

I suppose I should have been a bit more thoughtful about this trip. While Wintervale Manor is considerably smaller than the palace, the spreading of rumors