“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Camilla expels, her tongue as sharp as knives when she glares at Asa.

Asa merely pretends that everything is well. It has to be. She just needs to survive tonight because it’ll decide her fate. “Camilla,” she acknowledges, breathing calmly.

Camilla’s harsh laughs echoes in the empty chamber. “You can’t just ing abandon us now. You were in on this. It’s your fault she died, so you can’t just back out.”

Asa can’t hide the tremors in her hand. She knows Camilla is right. Maybe that’s why she can’t even fathom the thought of the press conference tonight. It was her fault. She lead the poor girl into this mess—and now the girl’s dead.

The investigation would uncover this all and lead back to her. “We didn’t have to go through with this. It was just a joke.”

Camilla snarks, “easy for you to say, princess. You’re the state’s dirty little secret. Your parents wipe their asses with people’s taxes. Do you think they’ll sit back and let your name dirty theirs? Wait—“ Her friend pauses. “Maybe you were never worth it. I mean—they care more about their bastard son than you.”

Camilla’s words hurt, but it isn’t anything Asa isn’t used to. Archie told her that she ought to cut Camilla out, but she knew she couldn’t. Camilla was the only person who didn’t bull her. Didn’t feign liking her because she was the princess.

Asa watches her friend, former, she supposes, knock over her cosmetics right off the vanity. The clattering of a year’s worth of the common man’s salary echoes as the items shatter onto the marble floor.

“God! Get angry. Yell at me. Swear at me! Well, well, well—you’re such a ing perfect little princess, aren’t you? So prim and proper! Not at all like the girl who ed her brother.”

One impending disaster and another calamity later, her parents and Archie chooses this exact time to walk in.

Archie and Asa exchange melancholic looks. He knew. No, they all heard Camilla from down the hallway. There wasn’t much soundproofing in this castle.

“Is this true, Asa?” Her mother asks with a grim expression that spelled out everything that she’d needed to know.

Her father can’t even look at her. Instead, he chooses to look at Archie, a son that isn’t his. But in his eyes, Archie might as well have been his only child.

Asa wasn’t close to her father. And maybe that was a funny thought. What child thinks about her father like she does with any other distant relative?

Camilla is dismissed with a wave of her mother’s hand, and her former friend gladly exits with triumph. She finally did it, and Asa wonders if this was the ending Camilla hoped for. In their years of friendship, Camilla was content that Asa was the least doted child of the reigning Prince and Princess.

It wasn’t until one drunken mistake later that Camilla revealed her envy. She’d been vying for Archie for a long time.

So Asa and Archie had . Big deal. He wasn’t truly related to her anyway. Their family tree was complicated enough, and a bastard child from her mother’s distant cousins was needed. They were one of the only monarchies to still have a throne that was purely male-inherited.

Asa couldn’t very much be the only child. So, that was how the bastard son inherited the title of the Hereditary Prince.

He was Liechtenstein’s cherished prince. He always had the perfect words to say. The perfect smile. The nation’s friendliest personality that made him a star. She, on the other hand, like Camilla had said was indeed the dirty secret.

She was the only child of the Prince and Princess, yet because she was a woman—she would be nothing. Just a body to sell to another monarchy in hopes of a male heir.

But even as she became of age, she became less of what her parents wanted.

Asa was too wild. She didn’t listen. She drove all her peers away with her horrendous attitude. All her tutors quit because she stood against everything that her monarchy believed in.

Asa felt that her family’s title was fraud-like. They lived off of their ancestor’s wealth stolen from years of imperialist colonization. Violence and bloodshed. Nothing was truly hers. It was her parent’s money. The taxpayers.

She hated the Vaduz castle. The family name that gave her a pass to everything. Was she ungrateful? Truly. She was stuck in a life that was meticulously planned out the minute she came out of her mother’s womb.

Tonight, the girl who died would be remembered as her friend. Someone who jumped off of the bridge out of her free will and not because Asa had a hand in it.

Tomorrow, she would be courted by Bavaria’s crown prince.

Asa could say that she didn’t mean to sit by and watch. That she didn’t exchange a smile with Camilla when her friend dared that girl to jump off.

The dare was all to impress Frederick who could give less of a about a commoner. And the irony, oh the irony, Frederick only ever cared about sleeping with Asa.

But who would listen to her? If Asa wasn’t friends with those kids, she’d be shut in the castle night and day with her tutors. In the history books, she might as well be the girl who was socially disabled, never having seen the light of day.

And what was worse than being a social bomb in the royal family? Having any sort of illness.

Then again, it wasn’t like they could snap their fingers and make her depression vanish. The kind of ache that couldn’t be subsided by anything. No amount of hard drugs could chase away that dull twinge in her heart.

But Asa couldn’t complain. After all, she was the true daughter of the Prince Regnant of Liechtenstein. She had all the riches in the world that her heart could ever desire. Frederick always told her that she was beautiful. The unattainable type of beautiful.

The one that most people wish for, but can never reach. He also told her more people would treat her less like a doll if she smiled more. But later he reiterated that—no, he was wrong. Her smile should be his secret. It only made her self-hatred intensify. She hated that Frederick only saw her as an object of his ual needs.

Whether it was stupid optimism or not, Asa always hoped for more. After all, there had to be more than this world offered, right? More than beauty and riches. She wanted something intangible. A of sadness. Something to ground her. A love that hurt as good as it felt to take heaving breaths.

“Asa,” her father coughs. “Archie. I will not hear a single word of this event coming out of your mouths. Understand?”

Asa looks to her mother. She wasn’t surprised. Then again, did she care about anything that didn’t add or condone to her regent image?

“Is this to be understood?” He asks again, his gravelly voice booming throughout what seems to be their entire estate.

Above the scuffling footsteps of their servants, the silence is deafening loud.

“Yes,” Archie mutters, looking at her.

Asa doesn’t return his longing gaze. He didn’t quite do it for her. Not even his luscious dirty blonde hair, steel-eyed and rugged handsomeness could appease her. She lifts her chin. “Yes, father.”

###

The press conference is brief. Asa was given strict instructions to not open . Her mother’s constant threat to hide her existence indefinitely scared her into submission anyway.

She stood upright next to Archie who tries to hold her hand the second he has a chance.

Their parents sit as the reporters and journalists snap pictures and ask rapid questions about the supposed accident that occurred last night.

Their parents answer calmly. Not a single twitch. Not a drop of sweat. Just calm as if they were simply addressing the weather.

Asa feels something swirl in her gut. A strange rage that bruises her promise of peace. She squeezes her fists so tightly that Archie has to rip his hand from hers to save himself.

The suffocating silence of being told when to talk or when to act was humiliating and demeaning. She was less of a human than a ing domesticated animal.

The sounds of spectators gasping—some reporters, some servants, and some; their own relatives—ripple throughout the banquet hall.

Asa smiles, finally feeling calm as if she’d taken her first breath in ages. It’s too bad that it took kissing Archie for her to be able to relinquish this short-lived freedom.

When their parents turn to them, her mother and father have this look in their eyes.

Maybe Asa’s always known. Because right now, she was nothing more than an easily ridden accessory to them. But it felt good. To see the truth laid out bleak and transparent.

###

West Bridge is over the top with its picturesque gothic architecture. The drive from the airport to the boarding school was insanely awkward.

Between her mother’s obvious cold shoulders and the driver attempting to strike conversations with either of them, it was clear that yeeting herself out of the window was more plausible than a moment longer in this car.

They’ve been driving an hour into the property, and it stretched ever-longing as if this was an endless vacuum. The green lawn is saturated by the dark, thick clouds that hang on top of them like a warning.

Keep out.

Yeah, well, Asa didn’t have a choice. Her stunt cost the royal family their image. Liechtenstein may be a microstate, but she was no longer going to be courting any European princes any time soon. To the rest of her family, her chances of a normal uppity life were no longer possible.

Finally, the car rolls up to the curb of West Bridge. The front entrance is opened with massive wood double doors pulled back, introducing a spiral marble staircase to the multiple floors.

There’s a burgundy carpet from the entrance to the sidewalk. A little overdone for America.

Asa moves to get out, but her mother catches her by the hand. In all of her steely stone-cold image, she mutters, “keep your head down. And for the love of god, don’t cause a scene. Stay out of trouble because one more incident, Asa—even Siberia won’t be able to help you. Now, get out. I don’t want to hear or see your face until things quiet down in Vaduz.”

Asa does get out. Her bodyguard, Luka, stands beside her with her sad, single bag of basic toiletries and a menial amount of her closet from home.

She sighs, watching the car speed away, leaving an empty lot. She’d like to very much disappear as well.

Luka looks to her for instruction. He’s deaf, and he’s never spoken a word since he was brought on as her main bodyguard. But she held some affection for him. Luka was there for her when her parents weren’t. At least, he was the only soul that seemed to remember she was human.

He tries an awkward smile. It was a funny attempt because he didn’t smile too often. She tries to achieve the same awkward smile. They stand in complete silence.

Are you hungry, Prinzessin?

Luka settled on that title because she’d gotten onto his for calling her your serene highness. He was supposed to. Yes. But do you know who else goes by that title? Her parents.

She shakes her head. “No, I want to sleep and hopefully never wake up.”

Luka snorts, tugging along her bag as he ushers her into the school.

Asa is welcomed by the principal member of the school board. She gets a quick tour of all the wings. It seemed simple enough. After all, she was able to navigate the gigantic castle her entire life.

“Your English is very good,” Mr. Allen announces in the midst of their tour.

“Most Europeans speak more than one language,” Asa remarks. She didn’t mean for it to come out insulting, but Luka’s reaction told her more than it needed to.

Mr. Allen takes it as his cue to shut up. By the time their tour was over, she was able to sneak off to the library.

Mr. Allen wasn’t able to show her the library and simply pointed down the west wing as if she’d be able to gauge where it was from the twenty rooms lining the corridor.

She went into the room that had the most library feel to it. This room had lounging couches with shelves that covered every inch of the walls, and those bookshelves reached the twelve-foot ceilings. There were a couple of tables on the far end of the room, and it was indeed a beautiful room.

The windows were wide enough to light the room without any artificial lighting needed in the daytime.

She wanders to the most private area. It was enclosed by three shelves. She traces her fingers onto the spines of the books, taking in the ancient smell of old books.

Asa jerks to a stop when she trips over what seems like feet. She almost falls to the ground if not for the shelves around her. Several books on the edge fly off.

“Those books cost more than my entire salary,” a voice says from below her.

She stares at the person sitting against the corner of two shelves. His body is lax like he could just melt into the ground any second. His eyes are closed, but it makes a gorgeous portrait of himself.

Long lashes. Pale skin. Sharp cheekbones. Red lips.

When he opens his eyes, those brown eyes feel like they’re piercing into her soul.

“You must be new,” he notes. “Let me guess—you wandered in here, thinking this was a library?”

Asa nods.

He stands, suddenly towering above her. His tie is thrown over his shoulders. He doesn’t look like a student. He seems much older.

His smile is callous. “The library’s further down the hall. I can assure you that you won’t miss it. It’s much bigger than this room.”

“But there are shelves of…books.” No , Asa. It’s too late for embarrassment now.

“Oh? You talk. Wonderful.”

Asa can’t decide if he’s trying to offend her on purpose or not.

“Tell me. What’s your name?”

“Asa,” she answers eventually. She didn’t seem to have much of a choice because oddly enough, he waited.

“Asa,” he repeats in that low voice of his. “Meaning healer. You don’t look much of a healer to me. You seem—“ He picks up strands of her hair and then tosses it aside. “Chaotic. Pent up, maybe. Do you write?”

She shakes her head.

“You’re an artist,” he surmises. “I can tell from the calluses on your fingers. You paint. My mother was a painter.”

Asa doesn’t know whether she should scream for Luka or run. He scares her in a visceral way.

“Beautiful name, though. I’ll give you that.” His smile is weird. It’s not welcoming or happy or even peaceful. It’s just a gesture. So empty.

“This is your classroom, isn’t it?” She asks. His poetic way of speaking makes her feel like he could also be an artist himself.

He merely shrugs. “What do you think I teach?”

“Literature.”

“Oh,” he feigns shock. “What gave it away?”

Asa rolls her eyes, starting to feel irritated by his attitude. Was this how people felt around her?

“Nice meeting you,” she cuts off the conversation.

He moves away, letting her walk free. “I’ll see you around, Asa.”

Did she want to see him again? No. But did she want to hear her name come out of his beautiful mouth again? Yes. She did.

[a/n] ummm nina, this is entirely your fault. i wrote this for what omg. anyway if you guys know my writing, i have a very odd way of writing romance. and i can't say that this will be any different. i saw the comments ohmygosh. stoppp. ughh this is going to be so bad.

also i tried a new style of prose. i kind of went with what i did in janus but with a touch of sophistication