Solstice (Midsummer #3)

23. Miri

23

Miri

I stared at my cellphone while it buzzed and flashed Lex’s name across the top for the fiftieth time, inhaling my cigarette when it went to voicemail. A few seconds later, a notification popped up that he’d left a message, but I ignored that, too. If I answered, Gran would see it. She’d know I was in contact with my former lovers and she’d be… displeased .

Perhaps I should have left the glitz and glamour behind, taken Ivy up on her offer to come to the States. Even if I didn’t marry Carter, I could live on my own and build a new life. Who was I if not Princess Miriam Stuart? Perhaps I could have found out.

It was the look in Gran’s eyes when she reprimanded me that forced me to go along with her despicable plan—marry the prince and dismiss my spouses and pray it all blew over. She saw right through me, down to all the dirty, filthy parts, and she’d gotten tired of them.

When she threatened my title and wealth, a part of me didn’t care. My spouses would take care of me the way I’d always taken care of them. But despite it all, selfish me still wanted my birthright. It had been mine since I was born and I owed it to my father to get it.

As it was, I thought about what my parents would want or what they’d do in the same situation. Theirs hadn’t been a love match, but they did eventually find partnership while they were together. It was a different time for royalty in the eighties, and the same advantages afforded to my father wouldn’t be given to me.

Inhaling deep on the cigarette, I let it out on a sigh and clicked my phone off just as another notification from the local news station came through, this one about my lack of chastity and morals befitting a princess of England. Had they found another former lover to give a tell-all interview? It wouldn’t matter either way.

I stared in the mirror, forcing myself to admit I looked like rubbish. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. The distance from my lovers hurt, yes, but my body knew something that my brain hadn’t caught up to—or perhaps my brain had permanently shut out.

It was that same gnawing ache that hadn’t gone away since my trip to Monaco in January. Every time I thought about stepping foot inside that place again, my muscles tensed and a wave of nausea hit me so hard, I thought I’d fall over.

I’m not safe there.

I knew it down to my bones, but I just didn’t know why.

“Miriam, darling,” Gran said, walking into my bedroom without knocking. After my great matter , she’d taken more liberties than she ever had, telling me I was lucky she still claimed me. I didn’t see what luck had to do with it. Her continued public acceptance of me had to do with optics. If she claimed the photos of me with Ivy were fake and then threw me out, no one would believe our royal bullshit. “Time to get dressed. You have a visitor.”

Hope sparked in my chest before I could tamper it down. “Who is it?”

“Reginald, of course.” She grinned and went to my dressing room, opening the doors while two attendants followed closely behind her.

“Oh.” Disappointment dripping into my gut, I went back to staring at my cellphone, wishing I had the courage to do the things I wanted. It was a strange feeling to describe. I knew I needed to keep fighting, I knew I should escape and find my way on the first flight home, to my real home, not this antiquated prison. But something in my gut told me I needed to stay away to keep my spouses safe.

I thought again to the memory of that night in Monaco and the morning after, when I’d woken and hobbled to the bathroom like I’d spent all night at an orgy. But I hadn’t. I’d gone to sleep and dreamed of…Well, I wasn’t sure of that, either.

Remember, the trees said. Remember. Remember.

Remember what, I had no idea. When I asked, they bristled and shivered and refused to say more.

Gran draped a few dresses over her arms before returning to me so she could help me to stand and get me out of my nightgown.

“Oh, do try to cheer up, love.” Gran grabbed my chin and held my face up so I had to stare her in the eyes. “He’s not all bad.”

I forced a smile but didn’t truly feel happy about anything.

Once I was presentable, we walked down the hallway to the pink sitting room where the guard waiting outside announced our arrival to our guests before stepping aside so we could enter. Reginald stood, his salt-and-pepper hair even grayer than the last time I’d seen him. He wore an expensive, well-tailored suit, his dark eyes creasing as he stared down his aristocratic nose at me.

“Miriam, it is so lovely to see you again.” He bowed, and we exchanged pleasantries. “And on incomparable terms.”

“A wedding,” Gran piped in. “Such bliss.”

Yes, a wedding. I should have been thrilled. In exchange for keeping my dowry and titles after the photo leak, I’d finally agreed to be sold to the prince. We’d be married sometime next year, but it was difficult to feel anything about even that.

I missed Ivy. I missed Lex. The small amounts I talked to Carter weren’t enough to sate me, not really. Something had been fundamentally shattered deep down inside, and I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Reginald and Gran talked about politics and the upcoming Grand Prix, but I focused on the swirling haze forming in my mind’s eye. The last time I’d seen Reginald at his palace in Monaco, he’d kissed me on the cheek and offered me a good night. But that shimmer around the memory had me forcing my energy harder at it, knowing whatever was wrong with me had to do with what happened after that.

“Miriam,” Reginald whispered, turning to face me with a small grin. “I admit, it took me far too long to reach out.”

I gave him a small smile, unwilling to meet his gaze. The thought of touching him, of being near him, rankled my nerves. What happened between us? What was it I was missing?

“I left so early in the morning, but I wanted to check in on you…regarding your nightmares .” He said the word like it was a euphemism for something haughty.

I furrowed my brows and forced a grin, not understanding what he meant. “Nightmares?”

“Yes, the staff said they heard you making noises in your sleep, tossing and turning, bumping the bed about, moaning about Carter Scott. The next morning, there were…fluids on the sheets.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll let you know that once we’re married, I won’t tolerate a public affair, no matter how far back your affiliation goes.”

Carter?

I racked my memory about that night and the morning after. Undoubtedly, I had woken up feeling sore between the legs, but I’d gotten my period, so I attributed it to that. Had I been dreaming about Carter that night? Had the king found me and done something more?

Reginald cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth. “Especially after all that’s happened.”

I should have reacted to the dig about my recent indiscretion, but the glimmering distracted me, as if the entire night had been put in a vintage filter, making it seem warmer and more surreal than it should have been.

There could be only one explanation.

The king.

A deep, sinister laugh rose up from the depths of my subconscious, villainous and outrageous, freezing the disgust at the center of my sternum. A piece of the memory had broken free, a piece designed to taunt me into compliance.

“Oh, Little Thistle. Are we having fun yet?” It was his voice, his raspy, sinister snarl.

I jolted out of my seat, the chair flinging onto its back behind me.

“Miriam?” Reginald said, rising to put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “Are you?—”

I didn’t let him finish. I turned on my heel, tears burning my eyes, and marched out of that bloody charade before I lost my mind.

“Bring me the child,” the king demanded. “Bring me my wife. Then I’ll give you what you seek.”

“I don’t have your bloody family,” I snarled, shoving into my apartments before slamming the doors shut. The staff must have thought I’d had a mental breakdown, and they wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t know what was real. I couldn’t even rely on my own memories. Panic seized my chest, overwhelming me as I melted against the plaster walls and slid down to the ground, allowing myself these few private moments to fall apart.

What did you do to me? What did I do to myself?

I couldn’t remember. But truth be told, whatever happened that night paled in comparison to how the king had violated me again . He had entered my mind and distorted whatever he wanted again .

How had he done it? How had he convinced me I was dreaming, that none of it was real? Or perhaps, I was still dreaming. Perhaps I had never woken up that day my parents died.

Bleeding Christ, I don’t know. I don’t know.

Why was I so vulnerable?

Go to them, a part of me said. We’re stronger together.

I quickly shut that down. I couldn’t even protect myself. If the king could manipulate my memories so easily, what else was he capable of doing to me?

No, it was even more important for me to stay away from my spouses now. To protect them. To protect us all. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t, but most importantly, I was a liability, tarnished to the very core.

My phone buzzed again, this time flashing Carter across the top of the screen. My thumb hovered over the answer button, but I didn’t have the strength to push it down.

Maybe one day I would.

Maybe. One day.