Aziza barely remembered walking away from the entrance hall. She knew Greg was holding her hand and that Daphne was following behind them. She even knew they were climbing the wide staircase toward Greg's apartments. However, her thoughts were still downstairs in the entrance hall, fixated on the moment Margaret had wrapped her arms around Greg and kissed his cheek. The image replayed in her mind with irritating clarity. It hadn't been a long kiss or even particularly intimate, yet Aziza couldn't stop thinking about it.
She glanced at Greg.
His fingers were still intertwined with hers. He looked completely at ease or at least he was trying to. Aziza wasn't sure what bothered her more, the kiss itself or how quickly her mind had reacted to seeing it. The moment she'd seen Margaret's arms around him, something inside her had dropped. For a split second, she had felt the same awful sensation she'd experienced when she'd discovered Travis' betrayal. That sudden realization that perhaps the person standing beside you wasn't entirely yours.
It wasn't fair. Greg wasn't Travis. He had given her no reason to believe he would betray her. If anything, he had done the opposite. He had defended their marriage against his parents. He had stood beside her when the entire royal family wanted an annulment. On top of that, he had never made her feel as though she had to compete with another woman. However, that didn’t seem to matter.
Aziza’s stomach twisted, as she looked ahead.
Margaret.
Even thinking the woman's name irritated her. Greg had told her nothing had happened… and she believed him. She just didn't trust Margaret. There was a difference. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
“Are you all right?” Greg's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She looked at him, “I'm fine.” Or, was she?
Daphne snorted behind them. It seems her new sister thought otherwise. She glanced back to find Daphne immediately looking innocent.
Yeah, like that’s really convincing.
Greg sighed, “Daphne.”
“What?” Daphne asked, spreading her hands out in front of her.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to.”
Aziza almost smiled… almost.
By the time they reached the hallway leading to Greg's apartments, she could tell that he wanted his sister to leave. Typical big sibling vibes.
Stopping outside his door, Greg finally turned toward Daphne with a pointed look. “I think we've had enough excitement for one afternoon.”
Daphne looked at him, “Are you asking me to leave?”
“Yes.”
She put a hand against her chest, “How cruel.”
“Daphne…”
“Wow… really? I was helping your wife with her lessons.”
“And you've done a wonderful job, but…”
“I thought you appreciated having me around.”
“I do, just not…”
“Then I shall stay.”
Greg gave her a flat look, as he took in a deep breath. Daphne just smiled back like nothing was wrong. As if she couldn’t read the room.
Aziza couldn't help it. Is this how it looks when Tami and I act like this, she wondered, thinking of her little sister. A small laugh escaped her.
Daphne pointed triumphantly at her, “See? My sister-in-law wants me here.”
“She’s being polite.”
“I’m not,” Aziza said, glancing at Greg.
Daphne looked at her, “You should let me stay. He'll only make excuses for Lady Margaret.”
Greg's expression tightened, “Daphne.”
“What? I didn't say anything untrue.”
“I’ll be fine,” Aziza said, touching Daphne's arm.
Daphne studied her face for a moment, before looking at Greg, “You'd better behave.”
Greg rolled his eyes, “I'm your older brother. I should be saying that to you.”
“And yet, I’m the one saying it to you.” She turned toward the stairs, then glanced back at Aziza, “Come find me later.”
“I will.”
Daphne disappeared down the hallway. They waited until she was out of sight, then Greg opened the door.
“Come inside,” he said, gently.
The moment the door closed behind them, the comfortable quiet of the room seemed to make everything more real. Aziza let go of his hand, causing him to stare at their hands. Was he bothered by that?
“Aziza,” his expression softened.
“No need to explain,” she said, waving him off dismissively. “I perfectly understand what’s going on.”
Where did that attitude come from? That was definitely not how she wanted to say it.
“I don’t think you do.”
She folded her arms, “Really, then tell me.”
Greg sighed, “Margaret and I were discussing the Bellmerian negotiations. That was all.”
“Right…”
He frowned, “What does 'right' mean?”
“It means I heard you.”
“But you don't believe me.”
Aziza looked away. Why was she acting like this? She knew it was harmless and anyone could’ve clearly seen that Greg didn’t respond back to that woman.
“I believe you,” she finally said.
“Then what's wrong?”
“Her.”
Greg blinked, “Lady Margaret?”
She gave him a pointed look, “I’m not callin’ her ‘Lady’ anythang.”
“Fine.”
“I don't like her.”
“You barely know her.”
“I know enough.”
Greg ran a hand through his hair, as he began pacing back and forth. “She hugged me without warning.”
“Don’t forget that kiss,” Aziza said dryly.
“Yes.”
She raised an eyebrow. Does he sound annoyed?
Greg sighed, “Yes. She kissed me.”
“And you didn't stop her.”
“I didn't have time to.”
Aziza locked eyes with him, as silence fell between them. Then, she looked away, “I know.”
Greg moved closer, “Then you should also know that nothing happened.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I wasn't expecting it.”
“Ok… I get it!”
“Then why are you acting like…”
“Cause knowin’ somethin’ and feelin’ somethin’ ain't always the same!” the words came out sharper than she intended.
Greg fell silent and Aziza immediately regretted snapping. She lowered her voice, “I'm sorry.”
He shook his head, “Don't be.”
Aziza looked down at her hands.
“I just...” she struggled to find the words. “When I saw her kiss you…”
“You got jealous,” Greg said, grinning.
“I felt sick,” she said, glaring at him.
His expression immediately changed, as he stared at her. After a moment, he finally said, “I know you haven’t gotten over what happened with Travis.”
Aziza flinched. Was she ever going to stop letting that name affect her?
“And that’s the problem,” she looked up and swallowed. “I know you're not him. I know that, but sometimes my mind doesn't seem to care what I know.”
Greg stepped closer, as she continued, “And then I look at someone like Margaret and I wonder why you wouldn't choose someone like her.”
His eyebrows drew together, “What?”
“She belongs here,” Aziza gestured vaguely around the room. “She knows how to be a princess. She knows your family, and all the rules. She probably even knows how to dance properly, speak three languages, and attend some royal dinner without worrying whether she's holding the wrong fork.”
Greg stared at her.
Probably starting to realize the mistake he made, she thought.
“And you think that makes her better for me?” he asked.
“Wha… m… maybe,” she hesitated.
“No,” the firmness in his voice surprised her.
“No?”
“No,” he stepped even closer. “Aziza, you keep looking at Margaret like she's everything you aren't.”
“Isn't she?”
“No,” Greg gently took her hands. “You know what she doesn't have?”
She shook her head, as she looked down at their hands. The contact suddenly made her hyper-aware of him. A prickling heat radiated through her palms, and everything around her blurred.
“Me,” he said quietly, as he leaned his forehead against hers.
She blinked. A shiver ran through her body. He was way too close now.
He smiled, “Not because I'm some prize to be won, it’s because she isn't my wife.”
Aziza's heart stumbled. What’s going on here? I’m supposed to be mad at him.
“And I'm not looking for someone who already knows how to be a princess,” his thumb brushed lightly over her hand. “I want you.”
She looked into his eyes, “You make it sound easy. Your parents don't seem to agree.”
“I don't care,” he leaned back, never losing eye contact with her.
“You should.”
“I care about them…” he paused, “but I care about you more.”
Aziza's heart fluttered. Looking down, she said, “I believe you.”
Greg smiled slightly, “But?”
Aziza sighed, “But I don't trust her.”
“That,” he said, “I understand.”
She looked up again, “You do?”
“I do, and on top of that, I don't trust my father's motives for bringing her here.”
That caught her attention, “You think your father planned this?”
“I know he did,” Greg gave a humorless smile.
Aziza's stomach tightened, “Then what are we supposed to do?”
Greg leaned closer, “Whatever we have to.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Aziza closed her eyes for a moment, lifting her head slightly.
“I need to finish preparing for tomorrow's negotiations.”
Her eyes snapped open… just a peck on the cheek? “Um… already?” she asked.
“I know,” he smiled apologetically. “I'll see you at dinner.”
Then he left.
Aziza remained standing in the middle of his sitting room, her cheeks still burning. From what, she wasn’t sure. Was it attraction or embarrassment?
I want you.
His words echoed through her mind. She wanted to believe them, and… she… she did. However, a small, frightened part of her still wondered whether love… no… affection could really be enough against a family determined to separate them. She didn't know, and somehow, that uncertainty scared her more than Margaret did.
****
Dinner that evening was supposed to be pleasant, and that expectation was what Aziza suspected made it so uncomfortable. That, and the fact that this was the first time since she arrived that she and Greg had dinner with his parents.
The dining room was elegant without being overwhelming, with a long polished table, soft lighting, and enough place settings to remind Aziza that royal dinners apparently required an entirely different level of preparation than eating pizza from a box with roommates.
She sat beside Greg, who was sitting next to his dad, while Daphne sat next to her. King Alexander and Queen Clarissa occupied the opposite ends of the table, while Margaret also sat next to the King.
The moment she saw her, Aziza's stomach tightened.
Of course.
She glanced at Greg. He was speaking quietly with his dad.
He hadn't told her Margaret would be joining them for dinner. Though, she had to admit that she still wouldn’t have eaten with his parents had it not been for Margaret’s arrival.
Aziza lightly nudged him, to get his attention. She gave him a pointed look the moment he looked her way. His eyebrows lifted, and she mouthed, Really?
He looked apologetic, shrugging his shoulders.
She turned back toward her plate. She was going to have a conversation with him later.
“Princess Aziza,” Margaret said.
Aziza looked up, “Yes?”
“I've been curious about your life in America.”
Greg's attention immediately shifted toward them.
Aziza smiled politely, “What would you like to know?”
“Your family. Your education. Your social life,” Margaret paused. “You were a university student, weren't you?”
“I am.”
“How interesting.”
There was something about the way she said it that made Aziza suspect interesting wasn't necessarily a compliment.
“And what did you study?”
“Business.”
“Business…?”
“Yes.”
Margaret smiled, “Quite different from royal studies.”
Aziza took a sip of water, “I'm sure.”
Daphne's mouth twitched.
The King cleared his throat, “Lady Margaret's family has long been involved in diplomatic affairs.”
Greg immediately spoke, “Aziza's education has also prepared her to understand people and manage difficult situations.”
His father looked at him. He seemed to be upset with Greg, even though he attempted to maintain a calm and neutral demeanor.
Greg just smiled innocently, causing Aziza to fight a smile.
“And before your marriage, did you have much experience with formal events?” Margaret continued.
“No, at least not to this extent.”
“Interesting. I wonder how you will manage your first royal engagement?”
Aziza set down her fork, “By surviving it.”
Daphne coughed, and Greg looked down at his plate, clearly hiding a smile.
Margaret's expression remained pleasant, though clearly forced, “How fortunate.”
Before she could continue, Queen Clarissa spoke, “The palace will be hosting the Winter Charity Ball in three days.”
Aziza looked toward her, “A ball?”
“Yes,” the Queen smiled. “It is held annually to raise funds for several charitable organizations throughout Valoria.”
Aziza's stomach fluttered, “Will Greg and I be expected to attend?”
“You are expected to participate,” she said, raising one eyebrow as she gave her a pointed look.
She pressed her lips together. Was there something she forgot to do? She looked around, only to find Daphne staring at her wide eyed, the King’s pensive look, and Greg’s look of concern. Worst of all was Margaret’s smug look as she went back to eating her food.
Greg smiled at Aziza, “I'll teach you.”
Whispering to him, she said, “You'd better.”
Then, the King turned toward Margaret. “Lady Margaret, I imagine your family will be pleased to hear that you're attending.”
“My mother will be delighted, your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head towards him, before glancing at Aziza with another smug look.
That little…
Aziza sighed heavily. Formalities. That’s what she forgot to do. Her first test to her royal lessons, and she screwed it up. She looked back towards the Queen, who gave her a knowing look. Once again, she wasn’t sure if her new mother-in-law was on her side or not.
“Your mother has always valued tradition, correct?”
“Yes, your Majesty, she does.”
“We have truly appreciated your family’s support of the royal charitable foundation all these years.”
Greg immediately added, “Aziza has already expressed interest in helping with several of the children's programs.”
Aziza looked at him. She hadn't realized he'd remembered that, but what was he doing? She didn’t want anymore attention put on her now.
The King nodded, “That's admirable.”
Greg smiled, “She also organized fundraising events at her university.”
Aziza felt herself blush.
Margaret smiled, “How… impressive.”
Greg looked at Aziza, “She doesn't give herself enough credit.”
The warmth that spread through Aziza had nothing to do with the food.
Daphne opened her mouth, “And Aziza also…”
The King interrupted, “Daphne.”
She closed her mouth. Aziza reached beneath the table and lightly touched Daphne's hand. Daphne glanced at her, and she smiled.
It’s okay, she mouthed.
Daphne sighed, then nodded.
The King returned to Margaret, “Your family has always been exceptionally well connected.”
“I suppose so, Your Majesty.”
“Your father has advised several governments.”
“Has he?”
She sounded fake. As if she wouldn’t know that about her family.
“I also understand that your education was in international relations, wasn't it?”
“Yes.”
Greg immediately said, “Interesting. Were you aware that Aziza’s studies in business makes her particularly good at understanding practical problems.”
Aziza looked at him, slightly shaking her head. He didn’t need to continue trying to make her look good.
He smiled, and again, her heart warmed. The King looked mildly irritated, and Daphne looked delighted. However, Margaret remained composed.
The conversation continued like that for a bit longer. Every time the King praised Margaret, Greg found something wonderful to say about Aziza. Every time Margaret asked a question that sounded polite but felt like a jab towards her, Aziza answered carefully. Whenever Daphne looked ready to say something sharp, either the King interrupted her or Aziza quietly touched her hand, warning her to be careful.
Eventually, the tension became impossible to ignore.
The King set down his fork, “Enough.”
Everyone became still.
His gaze moved around the table, “This evening is not going to become a competition between women.”
Aziza glanced around the table before lowering her eyes. The Queen looked indifferent, and Margaret sat perfectly straight, while Daphne looked disappointed. Did she enjoy this?
As for Greg, his jaw tightened, as he stared straight ahead.
The King continued, “Lady Margaret is here representing Bellmere. Princess Aziza is my son's wife. Both have responsibilities, and neither will benefit from childish comparisons.”
The word wife should have comforted Aziza. Instead, the King's tone made it sound almost like a temporary technicality.
He picked up his fork again, “We will discuss nothing further tonight.”
Silence settled over the table. No one argued. The only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the occasional movement of a glass.
Aziza barely tasted her food. She couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened. Margaret hadn't merely appeared by accident. She was staying at the palace. Greg’s father… the King… had clearly arranged for her to be here under the pretense that she was representing Bellmere. The King seemed determined to remind everyone how accomplished she was.
Aziza didn't know exactly what he intended to accomplish, but she suspected. He wanted her to compare herself to Margaret, and he wanted Greg to remember the woman his family had once envisioned beside him. Perhaps he even wanted Aziza to decide she didn't belong, or for Greg to decide it for her.
Aziza looked at Greg.
He was staring down at his plate, his expression tense. He had defended her all evening, trying to make sure everyone knew what she brought to his life. He had chosen her again and again.
Aziza slowly reached beneath the table, her fingers finding his hand. Greg looked at her. She gave a small squeeze, and he squeezed back. For the first time that evening, Aziza felt something inside her settle. She was still frightened, uncertain, and painfully aware of everything she didn't know about royal life. However, she knew one thing. She wasn't going to let fear make her give up.
She hadn't chosen this life. She hadn't planned to become a princess, and she certainly hadn't planned to fall in love with a prince. Not that she was… actually… in love with him. It was hypothetical after all. All that really mattered was that she had chosen Greg. If his family intended to test whether she could stand beside him, then she would meet the challenge.
Aziza looked down at their joined hands. Whatever the King was planning, she would face it. She would do everything within her power to make sure no one tore her and Greg apart.