The Prince and His Princess

Just Lila

Tobi’s POV

Father had scheduled back-to-back meetings today—petty disputes, requests for royal favors, endless signatures and handshakes. It was all so performative, so hollow. And now, apparently, they wanted my time too. The Alphas currently in residence took visible delight in watching me squirm. “Out of practice,” one of them joked. I ignored it, but the truth stung. I was out of practice—at being a prince. At pretending any of this mattered when Lila was out there, and I hadn’t heard from her all day.

At lunch, I managed to sneak away with Matthew to the gym. I’d only just started warming up when one of Father’s footmen appeared at the door.

Duty called.

Again.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into repetition—fishing quotas, farming approvals, land disputes. Father sat at the head of the table, skimming documents with mechanical efficiency. I tried to follow, to absorb something useful, but my mind kept drifting back to her.

It was nearly 6 p.m.

Surely she couldn’t still be with Ophelia. Oscar and Henry had left hours ago to visit his family home, and I could only pray the Moon Goddess had seen fit to leave someone at Lila’s side.

As the room slowly emptied—staff bidding polite goodbyes, council members retreating to their families—I saw my opportunity and rose to leave. Only to feel Father’s firm hand clamp down on my arm.

“We’re not done yet, Tobias,” he said coolly, releasing me with a pat like I was some obedient hound.

“I’ve shadowed you the whole day,” I snapped, the irritation in my voice clear. “What more could you possibly want?”

“We have family matters to discuss,” he said, far too smug for my liking.

“Fine. Let me go get Lila first,” I replied. She was my mate—my family. As far as I was concerned, she belonged in these discussions too.

“Must you always be so difficult?” Mother’s voice chimed in as she entered the room, effortlessly composed, flanked by the family estate manager.Of course. She never attended these meetings. She got to pick and choose her royal duties, dabbling in ceremonies and fashion while Father ran the kingdom. And yet, when she entered, he lit up like a schoolboy.

“George, feel free to take my desk,” Father said, wrapping his arms around her as if he hadn’t just spent the whole day turning me into a glorified scribe. George spread his folders across the table.

“Since you’ve found your mate and marked her, I assume your intention is to marry her,” Father said, clearly fishing for a public confirmation.

“Of course,” I said, confused but certain.

“Nothing turns you into a man quite like a wife and a child,” he mused with a proud smile. The mention of a child made my chest seize. I glanced at Mother, who met my eyes and quietly shook her head.

“Your Majesties,” George began, “as is tradition, we’ve kept a portion of funds aside for the Princess. Once signed, the allowance can begin immediately.”

He handed my parents the first of several thick folders. They skimmed, nodded, and passed them to me.

My eyes bulged.

“One million a quarter?” I blinked, rubbing at the line again as if it might change.

“That’s just her dress allowance,” Mother said sweetly.

“This is absurd,” I said, flipping to the next page. “She couldn’t spend this in a year, let alone a quarter.”

“You have no idea what gowns cost,” she replied, amused. “Besides, do you really want to be seen as the stingy prince?”

“Just give the women what they want, son. It’s easier,” Father added with a sigh, signing another sheet like it was a grocery list.

Mother continued without missing a beat. “Of course Lila will have access to the royal jewels. We’ll need to commission a tiara for formal events. There’s a spending budget for personal items, and a percentage of the royal charitable funds will be under her oversight.”

I barely heard her as I flipped through document after document. It looked like a dream on paper—wealth, status, indulgence—but I knew better. Every coin was tied to expectation, obligation, and scrutiny. Gilded chains.

“Is this all to your liking, Your Majesty?” George asked politely. “Of course, it will be reviewed again once you’ve had your first child.”

I stiffened.

Lila and I aren’t even on speaking terms. The idea of planning for a child felt like a cruel joke.

“It’s fine,” I said bluntly, ignoring Mother’s look of disapproval.

I stood, gathering the papers into a neat stack. “Thank you for your time. I’m sure Lila will… appreciate all of this.”

It was nearly 10 p.m. and I hadn’t heard a word from her all day—not even a whisper of palace gossip. When I finally returned to our chambers, I was startled to find Prudence sitting stiffly on the edge of one of the sofas. She jumped to her feet the second I entered, bowing deeply. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

“It’s alright,” I said, softening my tone. “But may I ask… why are you here? Where is my mate?”

“She asked me to wait for you,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. “To tell you she’s spending the day with Luna Ophelia.”

“Still?” I asked, anxiety creeping in. “It’s late… they can’t possibly still be together.”

I tried to keep my voice calm, but something gnawed at my gut. Something wasn’t sitting right.

Lila’s POV

We’d been in Ophelia’s bathroom for hours—and honestly, it was bliss.

Taking turns doing each other’s hair and nails, we spent the evening laughing over gossip and who was who in the palace. I hadn’t had real girl time since I left Forreston, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. Missed this. The soft intimacy of shared mirror space. The silly excitement of getting ready to go nowhere in particular—but feeling like it was the most important thing in the world.

A knock on the door made Ophelia spring to her feet.

“Luna, I have your outfits ready for tonight,” Sarah called from outside.

“Perfect, thank you!” Ophelia sang, opening the door and accepting two garment bags. She turned to me, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve done something a little wild—I hope you’re game.”

She handed me one of the bags, her grin impossibly wide. When I finally changed and stepped in front of the mirror, I barely recognized myself. Black satin had been transformed into a pair of high-waisted wide-leg pants that hugged my waist perfectly. The matching crop top showed a scandalous amount of cleavage, and Ophelia had lent me a pair of bright red heels that made me feel six inches taller.

“You look incredible,” she said, rushing to stand next to me. Her own outfit was somehow even more daring—Sarah had made her a high-waisted black mini skirt and matching crop top. She’d paired it with hot pink strappy heels that wrapped up her calves to the knee.

I laughed, then faltered. “I feel kind of guilty going out without Henry. He would’ve loved this.”

“Is he the witch you brought over the border?” Ophelia asked, a glint in her eye.

I blinked. “How did you know that? We snuck back in. No one even saw us.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Lila, there are no secrets in the palace.”

There was a beat of silence before she changed the subject.

“Here—I brought you something to borrow tonight.”

She opened a velvet box full of jewelry, and my breath caught. It was full of stunning pieces—gems I couldn’t even begin to name.

“Oh, Lia, I can’t,” I said quickly. “I could never borrow something so valuable.”

Her eyes lit up. “Did you just call me Lia?”

I froze. “I’m sorry—it just kind of slipped out.”

“I love it,” she beamed. “Now you definitely can borrow something. This necklace—yes, this one—would look perfect.”

She held up a gold chain studded with large diamonds and fastened it gently around my neck. Her own chandelier earrings sparkled as she leaned in, blonde hair straight and sleek to match mine.

“Come on—let’s send Henry a pic,” I said.

We posed in front of the mirror, cheeks pressed together as we snapped a selfie and sent it to him with the caption: Your girls are causing trouble tonight.

“Ladies,” Broderick’s voice called from the doorway, “your chariot awaits.”

We followed him through the corridors, our heels clicking across the stone floors. It was oddly quiet for 8 p.m., but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Broderick ushered us into a sleek black limousine that pulled away from the palace gates the moment the doors closed.

The drive was short—probably walkable if we hadn’t been in heels made for posing, not walking. When we arrived, Broderick stepped out first and offered us each a hand. The moment my heel hit the pavement, we were blinded.

Flash.

“Luna!”

Flash.

“Is that the princess?”

Flash. Flash.

Ophelia didn’t flinch. She simply linked her arm through mine and smiled as we followed Broderick through the flashes and shouts.

At the door stood a tall woman with a blunt black bob, clipboard in hand. She looked like she could throw someone over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

“Broderick, your regular room?” she asked.

“Not tonight,” he said smoothly, slipping her some cash. “We’ll take a table in the VIP section.”

“Of course.” She stepped aside, lifting the velvet rope.

Gasps and whispers followed us as we passed the line of people waiting to get in. I kept my eyes down, overwhelmed by the sound, the flashes, the press of attention. Inside was like nothing I’d seen before in Aruyios. A massive bar ran the length of one wall, its top made of dark glass and edged in gold. Leather couches sat atop patterned rugs. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, casting speckled light across the crowd. A DJ spun something rhythmic, pulsing—more human than anything I’d heard since arriving.

The crowd parted as we walked through. People were staring. Whispering. I couldn’t tell if it was our presence or our outfits.

Probably both.

Most of the women still wore gowns—simpler than the elaborate court fashion, but still modest. Our outfits? Not modest. Not subtle. Not what princesses were supposed to wear.

“Your table is through there,” the woman said, lifting a second velvet rope to usher us into the VIP section.

We slid into our booth, and Broderick waved over a waitress who brought champagne and three glasses. I was grateful for something to do with my hands. People in the VIP tried not to stare, but I caught the glances. And while part of me squirmed under the attention, part of me—some long-lost part—liked it.

“Do you ever get used to this?” I asked them, watching the crowd try to act like we weren’t the most interesting thing in the room.

Lia looked positively radiant, sipping her drink, waving at someone across the room. Broderick was leaning back with his arm on the booth, eyes scanning for something—or someone.

“You don’t get it,” Lia said happily. “We’re making their day just by being here. They’ll talk about this for weeks. They’ll tell their friends they saw us—maybe even talked to us.”

It was hard to imagine being someone people cared that much about. But I couldn’t deny it: I did feel powerful. For once.

“Cheers to new friendships,” Broderick said, raising his glass.

We clinked and drank. And for a little while, it felt like I was just a girl again.

Not a political symbol.

Not a burden.

Just… Lila.