Casey Anderson isn't expecting much from her Mark - but when her soulmate turns out to be Prince August, the boy next in line for the throne, everything changes.
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In a world much like our own, Casey Anderson is trying to navigate her senior...
A/N: Quick reminder that this is a world that is similar to ours but not the same, and that at this point I am just straight up making stuff up about the monarchy and laws and really just the entire world in general. Because I want to.
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"Holy shit, August," Leah says, pacing back and forth in my room. "Holy shit."
"Not helping, Leah," I say from my position face down on my bed. "Really, really not helping."
It has been exactly two hours and thirteen minutes since my life imploded on live TV. After being whisked away by my security guards and PR agent, I was driven back to the Palace - still in an incoherent state of shock - and handed into the care of my sister, the only one of the family home at the time.
My parents were summoned and returned about an hour ago, something I only knew about due to the cars pulling up in the driveway. I, apparently not important enough to speak to despite it being my life and my Mark, have been here the whole time.
With Leah, the supremely unhelpful one.
"Can you hear any shouting?" I ask, straining my ears.
My sister gives me a look. "No, August," she said. "And even if they were having a row, we wouldn't hear it from here. We are in a bloody palace, they could be having a shout in the foyer for all we know."
"Right," I say sheepishly.
Leah considers me for a long moment. "It's not your fault, you know," she says. "There's practically no way they can blame this thing on you."
"Don't bet on it," I say darkly. Then I sit up and gather the courage to ask the question I've been wanting to ask for the past two hours. "Did you know about my birth date?"
Leah sits down beside me, her face sombre. "No." She said. "I didn't."
"It seems odd, doesn't it?" I say, something constricting tightly in my chest. "I mean, they clearly weren't planning this, right? So, it seems like..."
"It seems like they didn't remember either?" Leah asks, sympathy in her gaze.
"Yeah," I say. "It does."
Leah sighed. "August, don't."
"What?"
"I know that look. That's your 'I'm jumping to the worst conclusions' look. Whatever you're thinking, I'm sure that's not it."
"I don't have an 'I'm jumping to the worst conclusions' look," I say defensively.
Leah snorts. "You so do to," she says. "Come on, Auggie. You always do this."
"Okay, well," I say, "In this case, I think I have the right! What parents forget their child's birthday?"
"I'm sure there's a simple explanation," Leah says, though she doesn't really look convinced.
