“Why do we let her run everything?”
Breck twirled me around the polished marble, demonstrating the three-times-a-week dance lessons that had been forced on him as a child.
“Because she helped raised us, because she has been the one organizing the social schedules of the kingdom since we lost our parents, and because if you don’t let her do something, she’ll do it anyway and scold you about it, all with a polite smile.”
I laughed at that, ignoring the warning look from one of the husbands of a councilwoman who didn’t like the idea of royals amongst them. It might be my birthday, but they were sure to remind me that they paid for everything and I was just a pretty princess on a cloud with no job and no prospects.
What was with me tonight?
I pushed those thoughts out of my head and turned back to Breck. “Oh leave her alone. Aunt Rebecca doesn’t snap. Or yell. She’s...kind.” And pushy and overbearing, but I didn’t say those things. My brothers had, of course, had to deal with Aunt Rebecca’s needling and orders as she helped raise us. But as we had all said before, it was for our own good. Truth be told, she was a larger part of my life than my brothers were. They had been well into their teen years when my parents died.
We had lost our parents long ago, and when Roman became king, we had been shoved to the front of the news, the country, and into the eyes of the world. And Aunt Rebecca had been there in the wings, waiting, making sure we were taken care of. And I would never be able to thank her enough.
There was always a part of me that wanted to be somewhere else. Even if it wasn’t grateful or what a princess would do.
“How is planning for the trip?”
I shrugged. “I’m still not sure I’m going.” I held back a growl since my latest attempt had once again been thwarted.
“What? Why? You should go,” Breck said, as if he could read my mind.
“We both know Roman won’t let me.” And he’d already sent his henchman, aka our brother, to make sure I couldn’t.
“You’ve been mumbling about this project for how long? Just do it.”
“Working princesses can’t be travel photojournalists. I want to go out and experience the real world, and not from behind bulletproof glass or with pearls around my neck. I want to get to know what’s truly beneath the surface, and I can’t do that. It’s just not done.”
“And when has that ever stopped a Waterford before?” Breck asked, that haughty tone back in his voice that made me smile.
“We always do what’s expected of us.”
“If that were the case, Roman would be married.”
I gave my brother a sharp look, and he had the grace to wince. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
“We’ll all do what we need to do, what’s expected, but you know as well as I do that Roman’s not ready.”
“When is he going to be, L?”
Luckily the waltz ended. I shook my head and moved off the dance floor as the music shifted to a more upbeat song.
“Let’s talk about something happier. It’s my birthday. I should be happy.”
From behind me, someone said, “It is your birthday. Last one before you hit the big 3-0.”
I turned to find my other brother, Wilder, and smiled, holding out my arms as if I hadn’t just seen him a few hours earlier. He hugged me tight, kissing the top of my head, and I sank into his hold. I knew I shouldn’t have favorites, but Wilder had always been mine—even if I hated him just a little bit for not letting me leave as of yet. Maybe if wasn’t for the party, he’d have helped me live my dream. I had to believe that. But for now, I was still hurt about the whole thing.
All my brothers were big, muscular, and handsome as sin, according to the tabloid magazines and paparazzi that hounded us. Each of them had dark hair and light, bright eyes that seemed to shine in every photo.
People said I looked like them, but I didn’t agree. Their eyes were just a bit brighter, their hair a bit shinier. And maybe it was because I was the baby sister who always saw my brothers as larger than life.
After all, they were literal princes. What else could they be in my eyes?
“We’re not supposed to call her old yet,” Breck said, leaning toward me as he stood by Wilder. The two were a sight for sure, and one of the ladies passing noticed. She practically tripped over her feet.
“We’re not supposed to call me old, ever.” I snapped it out, but the boys didn’t listen. They never did.
“Well, if she’s old, then so are we,” Wilder said.
“No, we’re men. We age like a fine whiskey.”
“And what am I?” I asked, my hands on my hips. I might have a tiara on my head and silk and lace wrapped around my body, but I would throw down right here and tackle my brother if I had to.
Just because I might own night cream didn’t mean I was ready for dotage. I knew they were just teasing me, but I loved trading barbs with them.
“Why are the three hosts of this party standing in a corner and not socializing?” a deep voice asked from behind me.
I turned, a tentative smile on my face. “Roman.”
“Happy birthday, baby sister,” my brother said as he leaned down and brushed a small kiss on my cheek. He looked every bit the king he was.
It was a breach of proper etiquette, but it was my birthday, and the king did break the rules sometimes. Or perhaps he just bent them to his will with his fierce gaze and that stern frown that was perpetually
