The Purple Crown

{. Chapter I}

Groans of pleasure ripple through my ears as he begins to reach the peak of his excitement. I feel him push deeper inside me, and I would be enjoying myself had I not been finished with the whole ordeal fifteen minutes ago.

"Oh, Princess!" he exclaims into my ear, grabbing my waist tightly. One last strong push and he folds, nearly pushing me off the bed when he tries to roll over and catch his breath.

"Don't call me that!" I roll my eyes, tossing the cushions off and standing. "I am Romilly to you. Just Romilly. You do not know me as the princess, and you never will."

Nathaniel props himself up on his elbows and stares at me. I am still entirely naked as I sit in the velvet chair across from him. I bought it for him as a birthday present years ago. I can't seem to remember why.

"I am going to miss you, Rom," he said, watching me intently. "When will you be back?"

I huffed as I reached for a book from his desk. "Father says I am not allowed back until I have a husband." I chuckle and smirk, "Maybe he'll die and I'll be forced to come back here to claim the throne as my own. No husband."

"Heavens, Rom!" Nathaniel says. "You can't possibly think that!"

I roll my eyes once again, this time impactful enough to nearly give me a headache. I place the book back down, though I still finger the spine, now refusing to look at him.

"Of course, I don't mean it, Nathaniel. He just-" I groan, standing again to reach for my clothes. "He makes it so difficult."

"Difficult?" he asks, scoffing. "You're holidaying in London. You're staying with the Queen of England in the palace and you are going to be getting food and entertainment for no cost at all. How can you complain about such a thing?"

He is irritated now. How dare I-a princess-complain about anything? I should be lucky that I do not have to worry about such matters as hunger and homelessness. Nathaniel has his entire life. He wouldn't have this shed if it weren't for me.

"Do I not give you enough?" I question him. "This shed is filled with everything you need and it is comfortable for a lone man like you. Anything more and my father would realize how much money was missing from the fund and-"

"It is not the shed that I am troubled about, Romilly!" he exclaims, marching up to my face. I do not back away. "It is you. My want of you. The smell of you that lingers in the shed hours after you have fled back to your castle. . . The castle that I wish people like me were allowed in. Into your bed chambers and with you under the sheets for the rest of our days. I want to be your king, but I know I cannot and that it will never be."

The pain in his tone is obvious, and it keeps me from telling him the truth. It is not just our titles that keep us from being together, but also the fact that I do not love him. He was never going to be my king and he had to have known that from the start. I want to be honest with him. It is the least he deserves, but when I see the tears pricking at his eyes, I force the words down.

I do not wish to talk to him about this anymore. It upsets me, and frankly I am not trying to arrive to Queen Charlotte with a tense frame and the memory of my last night with Nathaniel having gone wrong.

"Nathaniel," I say, walking over and putting my hand on his shoulder. I am still completely naked, and I sit on his bare lap with my bosom in his face. Usually, he would fold to me, and release all of his troubles with sex, but this time is different. He refuses to look at me, and when I rub my hand against his chest, his face turns red, not from blushing, but from anger.