Page 23 of Royal Resistance

“I don’t need to be talked up,” I complain, but any protest is ignored.

“Hey, don’t blame me for that,” Diandra says, scooping up the glass of honey mead the server brings for me. “You were on the road with him for eighteen months straight. Couldn’t you teach him anything?”

“I don’t need to be taught anything. And that drink was for me.”

Diandra gives me a look. “Clearly, you do if you think that’s a suitable proposal. And fine.” She drains half the glass before handing it to me.

“It wasn’t a proposal. Not a real one.”

“Clearly!”

I honestly didn’t think it went as badly as they are making out. But still—first “proposal” and I was turned down twice. “I thought it would be more of an arrangement,” I tell them. “An arranged marriage. Like my parents had.”

Luckily, there are no guests within hearing distance, or my humiliation will become an international event.

“Do you really want that kind of marriage?” Duncan asks. He knows what it was like between my parents. Polite conversation between episodes of cold war.

I shrug.

“You don’t,” Diandra decides. “Magnus, it might start out as an arranged marriage at the beginning, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. You could fall in love with her. She could fall in love with you.”

Another shrug.

“But you should start now. Right now.” Diandra gives me a push, just as if she’s my little sister. “Go talk to her. Again. And try harder.”

I’ve never had to try harder. I’m not a man women say no to.

Not because of my royal pedigree, although there are quite a few people who have flocked to me over the years because of it. I may be a prince—a king—but I’m a fun one. I know how to have fun. I show women a darn good time, and the world knows that.

Maybe Selene doesn’t like to have a good time.

For the rest of the night, I do my best to push her refusal out of my mind, but it won’t leave. I dance with other women, I prop up the bar and have a final toast with the band. There are fireworks and a midnight feast, and more music.

I watch Selene pretend to mingle, but she’s not really talking to anyone.

It’s like there’s a wall around her. She gets attention because of her looks and who she is. Who she used to be. There are enough scandals in the monarchies of the world to keep the paparazzi busy, but King Theodor abdicating was a big one. Adding in how his decision stripped Selene of her place in the line of succession made it huge.

There’s a lot of sympathy for her.

But no one is brave enough to approach her about it. I don’t know if it’s Selene’s expression or her body language, but there is something about her that screams “Stay away.”

I should listen to what her body is saying.

But I’ve never been one to take the safe path.

I keep Selene in my sights for the rest of the night, and when it looks like she’s heading toward the door, I make a beeline for her before she can escape.

“Selene,” I call.

She turns, as do her father, stepmother, and friend. “Thank you for the lovely evening, Your Highness,” Theodor says politely. “But I think we’ll take our leave now.”

“Thank you for coming, and it was good to see you,” I tell him automatically, my gaze shifting to Selene. “Can I have a minute before you go?”

Selene’s friend ushers Theodor and his wife to the door without a word, leaving Selene standing before me. “It was lovely to see you again,” she says quietly.

It’s almost like you can see the bricks in the wall surrounding her, keeping her away from others. I know growing up a princess isn’t easy, but something must have happened to her to make her so standoffish.

Something other than losing her crown.