Tangled Games (Dating Games #5) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,37
it and it swings inward. Once we’re all inside, he closes the door, leading us through what feels like an underground network of tunnels.
“These are the palace safe rooms,” Anderson explains. “If it’s ever under attack, the royal family and staff will be evacuated here. It’s pretty much an underground fortress. And is also where the royal vault is located.”
Goosebumps prickle my nape. This all seems like a dream. Secret tunnels. Safe rooms. Royal vault.
For the past year, I’ve kept waiting to wake up in a dingy motel room on Route 66 to learn I dreamed the entire thing. That I imagined Anderson.
But as Major General Lawson unlocks another metal door and leads us into what can only be described as a jewelry vault on steroids, I know I’m not dreaming. No way in a million years would I be able to imagine this.
Thick glass covers the floor-to-ceiling display cases containing priceless jewels. Centuries-old rings. Brilliant earrings. Necklaces of all shapes and sizes. Even dozens of intricate tiaras. You name it, and it’s here, everything marked, as if a historical archive.
“That’s the coronation crown, scepter, and mantle,” Anderson’s grandmother tells me, gesturing to a glass case in the far corner.
I take several slow steps toward it, the sound of my heels on the floor echoing in the vast room. When my gaze falls on a mannequin adorned in a military dress uniform, my pulse increases.
Almost from the beginning, I’ve known Anderson was a prince. I’ve seen photos of him at official events, dressed in his military uniform, always the picture of poise and authority.
But the reality that he’ll one day be king never truly sank in until this moment. Being here, seeing the crown amongst a treasure trove of jewels, makes it all real.
Anderson approaches behind me, his reflection in the glass nearly lining up with that of the crown and mantle.
“You’re going to be king,” I murmur, the words escaping me before I can stop them.
He smiles, placing his hands on my shoulders as I gawk at our reflection — me a nobody, him a remarkable man whose life somehow intersected with mine.
“First time I came down here, I thought the same thing. And right over here…” He touches a hand to the small of my back, leading me toward the glittering tiaras placed on black velvet, “are the family’s tiaras, one of which you’ll wear on our wedding day.”
He stops me in front of one of them, a thick band of diamonds surrounding a large sapphire in the center, the blue color making my eyes pop even more. My jaw goes slack at the reflection of me in a tiara. And not a cheap costume tiara like I donned when I played dress-up as a little girl.
A real tiara worth thousands of dollars.
“We’re running short on time, so if I might suggest we take a look at the rings,” Colonel Winters says in an even tone.
“Certainly, Frederick.” King Gabriel nods in his direction as a man in a suit appears from the shadows. I’m starting to think that being able to blend into the background and appear only when needed is a prerequisite to work here.
The man approaches one of the cases and removes a velvet-lined display, six rings placed in the grooves. He brings it to a nearby table, and Anderson leads me toward it.
“I did my best to choose a selection of rings my lady might prefer, based on your skin tone and the size ring you wear,” the man says.
“Which one do you like?” Anderson asks.
I shake my head, the glittering stones almost blinding me. They’re much bigger and extravagant than I pictured myself wearing. I want to tell him the ring he already bought me is perfect, that I can’t imagine myself wearing something so…grandiose.
I don’t have a choice, though. I need to learn to play by their rules, and that includes wearing a ring from the royal vault as a sign of the king’s approval of our union.
Swallowing down my protest, I study the different rings, trying to select one I wouldn’t mind wearing the rest of my life, at least at public events. They’re all beautiful. Some all diamonds. Others different jewels — sapphire, ruby, emerald.
But there’s one that calls to me. A blue stone that reminds me of Anderson’s eyes — light around the edges, transitioning to a stormy blue in the center.
“This one, I think.” I point to the stone that’s flanked by dozens of smaller diamonds.