They Call Me Princess

Chapter Eighteen: Mistake

Alexei's P.O.V.

My sisters didn't look at me during supper.

I sighed as I watched them pick at their food. "Alexei, I don't know what you were arguing about, or why, but I know Isabelle well enough to know that she doesn't just cry like that." Maria stood from her spot as she said that and began to walk away.

I stopped eating and looked down. I made her cry? I figured that she would but, hearing that it was true unsettled me.

I sighed as Sofia followed her out soon after, their husbands wasting no time to chase after them.

So there I was alone in the dining room with only Vlad off to the side standing as rigid as stone. "Did I mess up that badly?"

"If I may be frank sir," He spoke moving forward and into my line of sight, "I've never heard of a woman as strong as her sob so much."

I groaned as I pushed myself out of my chair and out of the room. I stormed into my office hoping to find comfort in the piles of work, but all I got was the memory of why she was so upset.

"I'm not joking. My father is General Romofski, leader of the rebels and my mother is, or was, Sarah Combs, innocent bystander that was chosen to be his wife. My brother is Nicholas Romofski, heir of the rebel forces and I, I'm Isabelle Romofski. The daughter that ran away to escape the life she didn't want."

I replayed what she said over and over in my head. The life she didn't want. She didn't want to be a Romofski, but she was born into it, and here I am judging her on things she didn't do.

I ran a hand through my hair and sat at my desk, diving into my paperwork. I would apologize in the morning, after she's had enough time to cool down.

~~The Next Morning~~

I slept in for once in my life. Deciding that after fighting countless battles and completing almost all of my paperwork that I deserved the tiniest of breaks.

I sighed in content as I looked up at my ceiling, one of my arms underneath my head while the other was lying limply by my side.

Content indeed.

"Alexei!" Maria screamed as she entered my room tears streaming down her face. "What? Who do I have to punch!?"

I immediately stood up, surprised by her sudden, and strange, entrance.

"She-she's gone! We-We don't know where she went! But she's gone Alexei!" I grabbed a hold of her shoulders and looked into her tear filled eyes.

"Who's gone?" She sobbed a couple more times before answering. "Isabelle."

I stormed out of my room and sprinted across the hall.

The bed was made, the closets were empty, and Stitch was nowhere in sight.

"Shit." I muttered while opening drawer after drawer trying to find something to prove that she was still here.

The only thing I found was a letter addressed to me on her desk. With a deep breath I opened it and began reading.

Dearest Prince (If I may still call you that),

   As cliche as it sounds, by the time you read this I will more than likely be gone and out of this country. I can't stay here any longer knowing that neither you or my family wants me.

Now do you understand why I didn't want to tell you my name?  Does my name even make that much of a difference?

Why should my ancestors chose how people think of me? What is so terrible about my name that you just have to hate me?

You liked me as a person. I helped you not caring who you were. I still gave you a chance knowing that I was expected to hate you as soon as I heard your name, so why is it you who hates me because of my name?

Do remember sir, that it was I who ran away from my name, from my duties, and from my father. I chose to leave because I no longer wanted to be Isabelle Romofski. I wanted to be Isabelle, just Isabelle.

The girl the rebels call Princess.

~ Isabelle

I sighed when I saw the tear stains that covered the paper. Not only did I make her cry, but I made her feel unwanted in my home, no, HER home.

She belonged here.

She needed to be here to walk the halls, to eat meals with my family, to read every book in the library.

To be by my side.

I needed her and I needed her now.

I stormed out of her room and down the hallway. "Vlad, start searching through Isabelle's call logs. Find out where she's gone. Talk to all of the security and staff. Find her as fast as you can."

He looked at me with a small smile before responding. "I already have sir. The last person she called was Mr. Leroy. Considering their close relationship, I'd venture to say that she'd be staying with him.”

I smiled at my butler before continuing. "Get him on the phone. I need to make sure that she's at least there."

"Right away sir." He bowed and walked off never once questioning my motives.

"What did you do?" Sofia asked from behind me, holding her child close to her chest.

"Go get Maria and the others, I'll explain to you all at once in the dining hall."

Breakfast was long forgotten by the time that all four of my siblings gathered. "Well to put it simply, I made a judgement that wasn't mine to make."

The twins looked at me waiting for me to explain further while their husbands both sent me a glare.

Even they liked Isabelle.

"You see, I met Isabelle eight years ago. It was one of my first battles and I was shot in the back, as you could imagine I collapsed from blood loss."

Everyone gave me a strange look, not understanding what I was talking about. "I figured at the time that if I relaxed then they would either think that I was dead, or needed immediate medical attention. What I wasn't planning on was an enemy coming to my rescue."

I paused to take a breath remembering the first time that I saw her. "We helped one another, but when we heard footsteps approaching I helped her escape out of this country. She took a plane and left never to be heard from again, or so I had hoped."

I looked down at the floor as a small smile played on my lips. "But luck wasn't on my side. Isabelle, her full name is Isabelle Romofski. I didn't know at first, I only found out yesterday. I asked her to leave my office- Shit! I only said to leave! She must have thought that I told her to leave here."

I once again found myself running my fingers through my hair tangling it in a mess. "Brother, I think you've made a mistake when it comes to Isabelle. She's not like all of the others, she knows exactly what she is running from."