4. The Days That Follow

CHAPTER 4

The Days That Follow

Tristan

Even as I turned my key in the lock, I squeezed my eyes shut in mild disappointment. The thing about living with four roommates was that you never had a moment of privacy. Not even when you returned at six in the morning.

Lane poured milk over his cereal when I stepped inside and shut the door. It was a relief that he was the one making noise in the kitchen. Of all my roommates, Lane was the least likely to push his nose into my business.

"Morning," he said over his shoulder, focused on his breakfast and not on my rumpled state. He found a spoon in the drawer and stuck it into his breakfast. "You're up early."

Or late, depending on how you look at it , I thought. "And you."

Lane rolled his eyes as he turned to the round dining table between the kitchen and the inner wall of Madison's room. "Oakley set an alarm for half past five."

I frowned. "What for?"

Lane lifted his broad shoulders in a deep shrug. "Beats me. All I know is he's been snoozing it for half an hour, and I couldn't put up with it."

"Maybe he's got an appointment," I said, worried that Oakley would miss it. "Shouldn't we wake him up?"

"I'll bet you ten bucks he's trying to build a new habit after some TikToker told him to," Lane said casually.

I snorted. "If I had ten bucks to spare."

Lane agreed with a single nod and began eating. I walked into the bathroom to wash the night off my face and hands, too tired to think clearly. Lane knew Oakley better than anyone in the apartment, even if that wasn't something either one of them wanted. They had to share a double room, and the battle lines had been drawn on the second day of their shared lives. I expected a Peeling Palace meeting as early as tonight to discuss Oakley's use of unreasonably early alarms.

When I finished washing up, I heard Lane's footsteps crossing the living room outside the bathroom, and the door of his and Oakley's room opened and shut. I slipped out of the bathroom and yearned to drag myself to my bed. If I could sleep for a week, it wouldn't cut it. But I could settle for a lazy day in bed and drinks at Neon Nights in the evening.

I walked toward the hallway between my and Roman's rooms, and my heart sank. My friend stood in the doorway of his room, arms crossed on his chest, a questioning arch of his eyebrows reserved for me. "There you are. Busy night?"

"Don't ask," I said dismissively. "How's your head?" The swelling had gone down significantly, but the bruise looked dark and angry.

"Aside from worrying about it, my head's just fine. Where have you been, Tris? I've tried calling you ten times." He shook his head to emphasize his frustration.

A frown creased my face as I pulled my phone out. "It's dead," I sighed. "I wasn't exactly checking my phone." Then, with a slight accusation in my tone, I said, "You were supposed to be sleeping, Rome."

"You're deflecting, Tris," my friend fired back. "But it's fine. You're back, and you're alright."

"And sleepy as fuck," I said. Roman put a hand on my shoulder firmly and gestured with his head toward my room. "Sleep well, buddy."

"Night," I said, fully aware that it was eight hours too late for that word. Even so, I pulled my blinds down and crashed on my bed. For all my desire to fall asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, that was the precise moment when my eyes opened wide, and every trace of sleepiness abandoned me. My heart pounded, and bitter disappointment filled my bloodstream.

I really thought it was a good kiss, dammit.

And I really thought we had been going somewhere all night.

After Cedric left the viewing platform, I lingered for some time, unaware of how long until fewer and fewer people remained, and I knew it was time to head out. When I was back on the ground, I walked. I walked aimlessly, visiting Central Park at night, sitting on benches every half an hour, and wandering through the city until my feet carried me back to Hudson Burrow.

The night had replayed itself a thousand times before my eyes before I returned here. And now, it replayed itself a thousand times more. Every careless touch I'd imagined was flirtation could have scared him away. Every time our faces neared as though we might kiss by accident, I could have pushed him further away. And when the explosive cocktail of lust and curiosity led him to want to kiss me…I didn't know where things could have gone wrong.

It was his creamy, soft skin and his impossibly blue eyes that floated before me as I gently drifted asleep.

Cedric

I turned the phone in my hands countless times before I knew I was doing it. When I looked at it, its screen was dead black. The thing emitted no signal anyone with access to sophisticated tracking software could pick up on. Or so I hoped. If they tracked me, they hadn't taken me yet.

Truth be told, I didn't expect the security to flock around me and kidnap me in some badass action sequence. It would be worse than that. It would be so much worse. I could see it. Alexander sitting in front of me, looking at me with those cold, pale blue eyes, his hair freshly cut as always , his lips thin and pressed so tightly they turned white, and his back so straight he looked uncomfortable. "Do you truly wish to be the one to break the centuries of tradition, brother? You can't. The thing about the wheel of our fortune is that countless people you haven't heard of have tried to break it, but the wheel simply ran over them. History doesn't remember them. They failed their country and their family. They fell, but we still stand."

Alexander had been raised as the Crown Prince since the moment he opened those pale blue eyes. Ever since then, he acted like he carried the future of the world on his square shoulders. In short, he was dreadful company at parties. He was also the biggest pain in my ass.

My mind wandered to élodie. What the hell was wrong with her to play along so quietly? I could hardly scratch the surface of that mystery. élodie de Beaumont was as closed off as a person could be. I wondered if there was anything beneath that facade of perfection. On every occasion when I'd met élodie, she spoke of vague things nobody could disagree with; she walked perfectly, sat straight, and ate like a lady. It was maddening that her entire being was as bland as a definition of nobility.

I rubbed my face after tossing the phone on my large bed and sprawled on the mattress. This room was far better than the accommodation I had secured on my first night in New York City. A couple of streets away from the original apartment, this was a proper hotel room with a view of the Hudson River and the Hudson Burrow neighborhood. The latter I could have lived without. As it was, it was a constant reminder of the small injustice I had done and the things I couldn't hope to reach for.

I'm sorry, Tristan , I thought, staring at the canopy above the bed. My life's complicated enough without roping you into the mess. Even so, Tristan refused to leave me completely. Five days after that one fiery kiss that had threatened to pull all my threads apart and I still ran my fingers over my lips thinking about it.

But what was I supposed to do? Had I let it go any further, the consequences would have been dire. I would have been a lying liar who slept with the most amazing guy while hiding the truth of my identity. Or I would have told him I was a royal on the run from his own family, which would have scared Tristan away, and I would have exposed myself to a greater risk of discovery.

Why hasn't he found me yet? I wondered, then quickly pushed that question away.

Tristan occupied my thoughts now, so I entertained him. Beneath the two options I'd placed at the forefront of my mind, I knew there was a greater fear. It was a fear I didn't want to poke too much, but it never lifted its claws off my heart.

I wasn't exactly a free man. Although I had never made any promises to élodie, our implied agreement was clear to all. We were to be married. Eventually. For now, we were to be officially engaged, and there wasn't a better time to announce the engagement than this fall. The confidence in the monarchy has reached its lowest point in Verdumont's history. The coming parliamentary election stirred the talks of reducing the significance of the royal family. There were candidates demanding the abolition.

But I'm not a goddamn pawn , I growled internally.

Although my new room was a suite with all the amenities I could possibly need for a short stay and enough space to throw a ball, it suffocated me so abruptly that I needed to get out. I needed to go outside, even at the risk of being recognized. The upside was that there really was only one royal family Americans knew much about. Few would think to look me up and match me with His Royal Highness, Prince Cedric Philippe Valois Montclair, Duke of Belleval.

Grinding my teeth, I shut the door of my apartment on my way out and descended to the ground floor. A clerk at the front desk stopped me politely as I passed.

I halted where I stood, feeling a creeping anxiety rise along my spine. Slowly, I approached the desk and greeted the man with my finest smile. "Is everything alright, Mr. Erikson?"

"Of course, Your Highness," the man replied. Revealing myself to the hotel staff was unavoidable, but they had very strict policies on keeping their guest lists private. "It is only that you are due to check out today. I apologize if I am mistaken, but it appears as though you are perhaps staying with us a while longer."

I'd forgotten about that. Today. Time was flying when you were on the run. "That would be correct, yes. I would very much like to stay if the room is available."

Mr. Erikson glanced at the screen, dry-washing his hands before calming them down and holding them firmly together. "The room is available, yes. However, there is the matter of your payment. If you still insist on paying with cash, it will be necessary to settle it at your earliest convenience."

I clamped down on the bolt of annoyance that passed through me. My fists clenched, but I quickly forced them to relax and pulled out my wallet. "How embarrassing that it slipped my mind," I said. Does he assume I will not pay my bills? The frustration roiled within me as I looked at the cash in my wallet.

Trying to count it discreetly while dividing it by the price for a night was tough business when Mr. Erikson's gaze was politely and firmly set on me.

"Ah, if another five nights is acceptable…" I muttered.

His quick fingers glided over the keyboard, and Mr. Erikson confirmed it. He then proceeded to take most of the cash I still had. Trying not to sweat at the desk, I paid for another five nights, turned on my heels, and marched out.

Had I remained in the run-down room where I'd spent my first night, I would have had twice as many nights for the same price. Three times, perhaps. But it was just as likely that I would have returned to Verdumont to escape the purgatory that place was.

I walked out of the hotel and into the hot August air, traffic congesting the street and people muttering at having to walk around me on the sidewalk. I was set for another five days. My room included food and access to the hotel's spa, sauna, and pool. The knots in my back begged for a massage, but my toes were too antsy to let me lie still for forty minutes.

So I walked aimlessly away from Hudson Burrow, beating myself over my poor financial choices and telling myself how there had never been another way. Eventually, I would have to use the card. Eventually, I would break and slip and fire up a beacon for Alexander.

He could trace me to the States, but I didn't know how precisely he could pin me down. And if he could, I wondered if this was his plan all along. Was he showing me I couldn't function on my own? That I was doomed without the family's support? If that was his strategy, it was beginning to work. My confidence had never been this low, and I had never felt more trapped. What had begun as a run toward freedom's warm embrace was starting to feel like a self-imposed exile.

You can end this , a voice told me. I wasn't sure whose voice it was, mine or Alexander's.

If he left me to destroy myself, he would have an easy time convincing me that my marriage to the Marchioness was the best conclusion to my story.

"No," I growled aloud, earning a look from a passing woman whose stride quickened soon after. If you need a place to stay, Mama Viv knows someone with a spare bed. If you need a job, Mama Viv will find a vacancy or make one if none exists. Those had been Tristan's words. And those words might be my last chance to reach a better fighting ground.

The universe made this decision for me. I turned around and headed back to the heart of Hudson Burrow.

The cigarette in the long, elaborate holder made of ebonite and worked silver was unlit, but that didn't stop Lady Vivien Woodcock from biting her end of the holder. The sound of teeth meeting the black ebonite was sharp and quick, matching the acrylic nails clacking against the wooden surface of the table between us .

"It's wonderful to put a name to that face, Cedric," Lady Vivien said, her voice deep and velvety. She wore a black dress with stripes of white and a rich red lining. Her sleeves were loose, and their edges were worked with lace that also held the hems of her neckline together. With makeup and padding, it was hard to tell that Lady Vivien didn't have a big bosom on the verge of spilling from the dress. "I've seen you here before, haven't I?"

"I believe you have," I said and lifted my lemonade off the table, sucking a sip through a thick straw. After swallowing, I smiled my best smile for Lady Vivien. "You see, it's a pretty bad situation I found myself in."

"I don't doubt it," Lady Vivien said, amusement dripping from those words like melting chocolate. "But I can't imagine a short-term job that will cover the cost of an apartment at Henriette. Why not try Orbit while you're at it?"

I gritted my teeth. I never should have let that slip.

Lady Vivien laughed at her remark and stuck the cigarette holder between her teeth with a loud click. Her eyes were glimmering with curiosity and entertainment. After releasing the holder, she nodded. "If you are searching for cheaper accommodation, I happen to have a spare room."

Muscles in my neck knotted. I had tried living on a budget. It had almost driven me into Alexander's arms. "If you don't mind, we could revisit that later."

"Suit yourself, darling," Lady Vivien said, measuring me all the same. "And what work experience do you have? What can you do?"

"Anything," I said. "By profession, I am a historian." That wasn't exactly a lie .

"A history degree?" Lady Vivien's amusement soared. "That certainly qualifies you to wash the dishes, darling."

I bit my tongue hard. "Art history, to be exact," I said.

"Even better," Lady Vivien said, positively jiggling with laughter. "Oh, don't take things so seriously, Cedric. Nobody's out to get you."

She didn't know how wrong she was, and I wasn't going to tell her. But I forced a smile on my face. "Truth be told, I would be happy washing the dishes. Or serving tables. I've found myself in a complicated situation where I don't have too many choices."

"You can always marry rich," Lady Vivien said with a rapturous laugh.

I could feel the sweat that soaked the shirt on my back. I laughed as joyfully as I could pretend. "Until I can find a wealthy marchioness, I'd very much like to wash the dishes, Lady Vivien."

"Mama Viv, darling," the queen said, waving her unlit cigarette in the holder in a dismissive way. "And if you are certain, I can have you do a paid trial starting this afternoon."

I rubbed my hands against my knees. My fingers moved nervously, and I discovered that my mouth was dry. Only now, I realized that I had been hoping to be turned down so I wouldn't have to do this, and I could still say I'd given it my best shot. But Lady Vivien was inviting me to…work…today. "H-here?" I asked, my voice squeaking.

"Why, of course, darling," Lady Vivien said, spreading her hands around her head as if to encompass the entire bar. "We're throwing a Burger Bash this evening, and I can always use a pair of hands to clear the tables and wash the plates. If you can cut the buns or wash the lettuce, it's even better." She turned away from me and called for someone named Millie. A tall girl around my age with thick curls tied into a bushy tail walked through a door behind the bar, the sleeves of her white shirt rolled, and a black apron covered her torso and legs down to her knees. The apron sported five acrylic nails in the color of a rainbow painted across its front.

"You called for me, Mama Viv?" Millie asked.

"Millie, darling, this is Cedric. Can you make sure there's a locker for him by—" She looked at me, then, "—shall we say four o'clock?"

I inhaled a deep breath of air and held it for what felt like an eternity. I was really doing this, wasn't I? I suppose life could have been worse. I could have been picking flower arrangements for my royal wedding. As I exhaled, I nodded. "Four o'clock sounds perfect."

"And what will Cedric be doing that he needs a locker, Mama Viv?" Millie asked, unmistakably bristling.

"He'll do whatever you need him to do, Millie, darling," Mama Viv replied, one hand moving elaborately to encompass the entirety of the bar and the activities one might be paid to do around here. Then she looked at me again, a challenge in her eyes. "Let's see what you're made of, Cedric."

My smile was locked on my face, frozen and icy, and I nodded. I was ready to play my part. I'd never been allowed anything like this at the palace. "I'm made of harder stuff than it appears, Mama Viv," I promised her, although I failed to convince myself.

In fact, several hours later, I discovered just how soft the stuff I was made of really was. There were many places on the planet that could test your adaptability and endurance, and many jobs could push you to the limit of your sanity, but none other came to mind when you were caught in the hellish twister of your local restaurant's kitchen.