The Prince's Bride (Part 1) - J.J. McAvoy Page 0,76

was a flash of sorrow as he closed the book, putting it back where he got it from.

“Are you worried about that?” I asked, coming closer to him.

“All royals are worried about that,” he whispered. “However, I always wonder if that time came for us, what will it be like for the last king? I’m sure Arty will make it through, but what about his future son or daughter, and their children. The people love us today, but love is not always enough—as history has clearly shown.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Tell me about it. People ask if I have wanted to be king. And I always say absolutely not. I get almost all the same perks without the stress.” He chuckled.

“But the fact that you think the way you do means you are worried about your brother. It’s sweet.”

“The fact that you were worried about missing your sister’s husband’s event shows that you are not as angry as you seem and still want to look out for her.”

We both eyed each other.

I couldn’t say anything; he had caught me off guard with that. Luckily, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll be right back.” I didn’t want him to say anything. Dashing to the front door and without even thinking, I opened the door.

There was my sister in the flesh, dressed in track pants and an Etheus active, long-sleeved shirt under her zipper jacket, with a headband in her hair. Her light-brown eyes widened as she saw me.

“Where have you been?” she screamed at me, pushing her way into the house. “I’ve called over and over. I went to your place, and the doorman would not let me up. I tried calling again. No answer. Your shows were over hours ago. Why didn’t you come today? Are you seriously so pissed off at me that you wouldn’t even show up? I had the press asking me why you weren’t there. There are rumors all over the place saying we are fighting—”

“Augusta, breathe.”

“No, I’m angry!” she hollered. “Yes, I was wrong for getting married and not telling you. But you know why I had to do it! We have been in litigation for a year. We need to pay lawyers and bills. It was a simple solution. I didn’t tell you because I knew you were going to judge me! ‘Oh, you will do anything for money? Oh, Augusta, we can find a way.’ I couldn’t. I don’t have another career like you do to fall back on. And don’t say I could go work at a restaurant or something—as if that could pay our kind of bills! I kept lying because I was embarrassed. This wasn’t some elaborate plot by me to take all the money.”

“Augusta—”

“Okay, maybe my mom was plotting something, but I told her I would never do anything to hurt you. You can’t blame me for what she does! You know she acts crazy whenever it comes to your—”

“Augusta, shut up!” I screamed back.

She stopped, crossing her arms, exhaling from her nose like a raging bull.

“Thank you! I get it. I’m sorry I missed it today. I will call you tomorrow. This is not a good time.”

“You are kicking me out after everything I just...” her voice trailed off as her eyes went wide, clearly focused on someone behind me.

Dammit.

“Hello,” Gale said.

Augusta didn’t reply and instead focused on me. She stepped closer, turning to hide her body from him and whispered in a very hushed tone “Odette, I’m not sure if you noticed, but there is a white guy with a strange accent and a lace-front wig on behind you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I whispered back.

She was ridiculous, sometimes. She leaned over and looked back to him for a second before coming back up. “He’s kinda cute, but what’s with the hairpiece. Is he bald?” Why was she like this?

“Can we talk about this later?” I begged, but it was like I was cursed.

Both Wolfgang and Iskandar appeared at the end of the corridor to see what was happening. She, of course, noticed, and her eyes widened farther.

“Are you conducting interviews or something?”

I reached forward with one hand and started to push with the other. “Goodbye, Augusta. I will see you later.”

“No, wait. What’s going on?”

“Come on.” I pulled her out into the cold.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She huffed. “But at least bring one of them for next weekend. Malik is having a second youth active day.”

“Okay.”

“So, we’re good?”

“Yes, we’re good.” I would say anything at this point to get her to