Carla’s Prince

“Everyone knows that you have this thing that puts people off.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” he asked as he took one of the glasses from her.

“It means exactly that. The girls you have been with all had to sign NDAs and Stephanie who was a little chatty even after signing was more than a little generous with the information as to how dark and undetached you were…almost kinky to say the least.”

“Why did she want me to be attached? There was no gaining anything…everything we had was physical.”

He took a sip of his wine and she exhaled loudly.

“This Carla girl comes from a world where people get together for love rather than political responsibility. She comes from a world where people stay together because they want to and not because it would cause an international incident.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Isabella. Life was easier when it was just physical but I do not want to go back to that world either. I just don’t know how to be in that world again.”

“You finish up here and go back and get your queen, Cristoff. If you truly, truly love her, then go get her back.”

“She might not accept to be my queen,” he said.

“First, go and get her back. Everything else will fall into place.”

He took another sip of his wine as he wondered why it all sounded so simple and yet so hard at the same time.

“What about father and uncle?” he asked. “They might not agree to me marrying an American of a humble background.”

“Well, Harry is marrying Meghan Markle. So, there’s that.”

“Harry is not the heir to the throne. And unless his father and brother both abdicate, then nothing is going to happen.”

“You are looking for excuses, Cristoff,” Isabella said harshly. “If you want Carla as your queen then there is no one standing in your way apart from yourself.”

He flashed down the remaining contents of his glass and looked at Isabella. Maybe she was right. Maybe all he needed was bare his soul to Carla and have her see his real self. Let her in and maybe, just maybe, she would understand who he really was.

“Prince Cristoff, Princess Isabella,” a man said snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Matthew,” Isabella said. “Cristoff, Matthew here is my new chaperone.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Cristoff,” he said, bowing.

“Yes, Matthew. What’s going on?” Isabella asked as she looked at him.

“The funeral is beginning and we will need both you to change into your royal regalia.”

“I thought that was after the funeral…” Cristoff started.

“Apparently, even the funeral is some exclusive soiree,” she said as she stood up.

“Did I mention just how much I hate that royal robe?” Cristoff whispered and Isabella giggled.

“Only every day.”

“I mean, sure, we still wear crowns and wave the occasional scepter but the robe?” He shook his head. “That thing weighs a ton.”

“You could just do what I did. What Mother did,” Isabella pointed out.

“Which is?”

“To get a designer to make you a lighter one that still looks real to everyone else.”

Cristoff raised an eyebrow over the other.

“What?” he asked. “Why has no one ever told me that?”

Isabella giggled again and held his hand as they walked out of the room.

“Stick around, dear brother. I will show you things you didn’t even know existed.”