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12
The next day, Ella sat on the couch in her room, feeling like she was surrounded by a pack of wolves. Her stepmother wouldn’t stop circling the room, pacing and muttering and planning, and Daphne was hunting through all the luggage piece by piece for one of her macrobiotic candy bars. She always got snacky when something exciting was happening.
That was what Ella was now: a sideshow. She wasn’t sure whether her family saw her newly-public romance with the king as a fascinating fairytale or a fascinating trainwreck, but one thing was sure—they wanted every single detail of Ella’s night at the ball.
“I swear, it’s not that big a deal, guys,” she pleaded for the umpteenth time.
Anna rolled her eyes from her spot in the corner without looking up from her medical journal.
Her stepmother pivoted, shooting Ella a look of consternation. “We would know exactly what size of a deal it was if you would just tell us everything.”
Ella had zero intention of doing that. Last night had been magical and mind-blowing and very private, and the part of it that had been public—the four, or was it five, dances she’d shared with the king—everyone already knew about. There was no need for her to rehash her love life for her stepmother, who would only be inspired to use every last drop of influence she had to force a royal marriage. Ella could tell the woman was already wondering if she’d been backing the wrong horse, thrusting Anna and Daphne into the king’s attention rather than Ella.
And that was not what Ella wanted. She already had more of Phillip’s attention than she could handle. What she needed was some quiet time, to try to discern her dreams from her goals and figure out what she wanted. She had a suspicion Phillip considered last night the start of a public courtship, but she wasn’t so sure she was ready for that yet. And if she wasn’t, she needed to figure it out fast so she could let him down easy before he announced it to the entire kingdom.
Ella put a hand to her temple. “Look, I’m really tired,” she tried. “I think I’m just going to relax and write a letter.”
Her stepmother’s mouth fell open and she jabbed a triumphant finger at Ella. “I knew you weren’t writing some friend in the States! It was the king, wasn’t it?”
She groaned, but before she could respond, a knock sounded at the door. Ella prayed it was some urgent meeting that would get her away from her family. If not, she planned to beg whoever was at the door to concoct one.
It was Drake. “Letter for you, ma’am,” he said, and she could swear his dour face almost cracked a smile. She snatched the letter from him and shut the door. “You’re welcome,” his muffled voice said from the other side, and yes—there was definitely a smile in it. Ugh, did everyone know about her and the king?
She tore the letter open. Her family crowded around to read it, but she backed into a corner and gave them all the stink-eye until they gave her at least a few feet of privacy. She ducked her head and read.
* * *
Dear Ella,
I should probably wait and tell you this in person, but I can’t keep it to myself another second and I won’t get to see you again ‘til tomorrow. Last night was amazing for so many reasons, and it gave me something I never thought I would have: a true love who could also be an amazing queen. Because I do love you, Ella. There’s no one else I can imagine at my side—not jus
t ruling with me, but for all the small moments of life too, the lazy mornings and the nights under the stars, quiet lunches, reading books together in front of the fire. There is no part of my world where I don’t want you present.
With your permission, I want to send all the other eligible ladies away (except your family, of course, if you want them to stay with you). I want to announce that I’ve chosen the woman I will court as my bride. I want to tell the world it’s you. It’s always been you.
I could hardly sleep last night, and when I did, it was to dream about what we did together on the balcony. I’ve never been more turned on by anyone than I am by you, and I’ve never had a night like that before. I want to do it again, with you spread out and waiting for me, watching over your shoulder as I take you again. You are amazing and I can’t get enough of you.
Please write me back as soon as you get this and tell me if you feel the same. I can’t wait to hear from you.
Love,
Phillip
* * *
Ella folded the letter, head spinning, and peered up at the room around her like she’d forgotten it existed. The things, the marvelous, impossible things he’d written in his letter echoed in her head.
Her stepmother pursed her lips, taking in the dazed expression on Ella’s face, and nodded. “You love him,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I…yeah,” Ella said after a moment, unable and unwilling to lie to them—or to herself, not any longer. She was in love with Phillip. And what was she going to do about that?
Her stepmother walked forward, took Ella’s free hand and folded both of her own over it in a rare maternal gesture. Ella blinked at her. “Don’t hold yourself back from him,” the woman advised with a wistful smile. “It’s obvious to me now that you two were made for each other. If you love him, you should be with him. Life is so short—spend as much of it as you can with the people you love.”
She said it so easily, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. And…maybe it was. Now that their relationship was in the open, now that her family knew about them, Ella was surprised to realize that the fluttering in her stomach was excitement, not fear. She wanted to be with him for real. She wanted the world to know she belonged to him.
She found a piece of paper and a pen, and sat down to tell him so.
Phillip felt like whistling as he made his way to the last appointment of the day. One more duty, and then he was headed straight to Ella’s room. It was a good thing, too, because after the flurry of letters all day today and yesterday—each dirtier than the last—he wasn’t going to make it long if he didn’t get her naked as quickly as possible.
