5. Chapter 5
Fitz
I rushed the stairs, taking two at a time, oblivious to any other directives sent my way. I reached for her hand, but amid the full skirt and multiple layers of fabric, I couldn’t find it at first. It didn’t help the predicament that she laughed uncontrollably.
Bishop arrived a second behind me and took her other arm. We hoisted her to her feet, and yet she still giggled like a child. It was infectious, really. I couldn’t help my own smile.
“I’m fine, Fitz,” she whispered as she took hold of her embarrassment and shifted to arrange her skirts again. “You know I’m a klutz.”
Understatement of the century. Despite being a pageant queen, grace and balance had never been her companions. Back in school, she used to routinely trip over curbs until I started offering her my arm every time we approached one.
“I’m aware of your proclivity for accidents, but it doesn’t mean I won’t rush to your aid every time.” I’d become rather protective of her, more so since she’d nearly died. It didn’t feel like an overreaction at this point. Never again would I let her slip through my fingers. I cleared my throat and released my grip on her arm, though immediately I felt the draw to touch her again.
Earlier in the evening, for a solid two hours, my mother lectured me on my recent choices, clearly recovered from her loss the night before. She droned on about the time I spent in the capital city being a mere distraction, and yet, what was I supposed to do? The people were hurting, and I needed to be there. This pageantry she’d conjured up was hardly an effective use of our time.
But I knew she wasn’t upset about my earthquake relief plans. She was sore that my heart belonged to the American she detested. But once more, what was I to do? I ached to be with Michaela. Mother had turned Michaela’s lady’s maid into a brick wall, barring my entrance and vigilantly watching the woman I loved at all hours of the night so I couldn’t reach her via the passage.
Last night didn’t quench my thirst. It felt like a lifetime waiting to see her, not a single day. Finally with eyes on her again, I found myself transfixed by Michaela. When I pulled her from her grave, she was pale and weak. I worried she might never recover and yet, only a short time later, she appeared vibrant and healthy, hardly any trace of the accident left other than fading bruises.
“Shall we?” I offered my arm to her, though I hadn’t done such for the other two. As her gloved hand curved through the crook in my elbow, my heart soared. The world felt right when she was with me. Why hadn’t I seen it sooner?
More importantly, how could I make it our future?
Michaela
Fitz spoke softly as we moved toward the banquet hall. “You even look better tonight.”
“I feel better.” Was it appropriate to tell him a lot of it had to do with seeing him again? Too forward? Did I actually care? I shortened my steps and glanced behind us to judge the distance of the cameras. The producers had deterred two of them, likely to give new directions, but a third still followed us close enough to pick up our conversation. “May I ask you something, Fit—Your Highness?”
Bishop cleared his throat as if reading my mind. “Hold on a pip. I’m on it.” He pulled back and within seconds, he’d derailed the cameraman behind us.
I didn’t miss the appreciative smile that flashed across Fitz’s mouth. “Seems we have about twenty seconds of privacy, so by all means, ask away, Lady Coco.”
Questions bounced around my mind, each one more important than the last. After all, nearly passing out had saved me last night, but I couldn’t expect it to work a second time. A little direction from Fitz would go a long way.
How much was I allowed to say?
Did I need to hide our friendship if the reporter asked?
What was he going to do about the throne and his responsibilities?
Did the queen really hate me?
But none of that came out.
“Have you missed me, Fitz?”
Silly, since we saw each other the night before, but his steps faltered. Tension tightened his jaw. His nostrils flared for a split second as he gathered control. Slipping his free hand over mine with a fiercely tight squeeze, he gave me a single word as an answer.
“Desperately.”
For such a small word, it carried incredible weight. In his voice, I heard the worry, the gratitude, the frustration, and the need. He wasn’t at liberty to express any of it freely, but he needed me to understand—his absence wasn’t his choice.
“I’ll be seated near my parents. Her Majesty,” I didn’t miss the frustration as he mentioned his mother, “has you sitting at the far end of the table with Bishop.”
As we entered the hall, I understood what he was saying. Esme and Sadie both stood at one end of the table, while I was positioned at the opposite end. To me, it was a clear commentary on how I would never be good enough for her son.
“It wasn’t my choice,” he whispered under his breath. “Granted, my choice would be to cancel the whole thing and meet you in my chambers —”
“There he is!” The queen entered the room behind us. “Our darling prince with the sickly American.”
A bit over the top in my opinion…
“She was never sick, Mother. She was buried alive after risking her life to save a Nolcovian child.” Fitz’s muscles tightened as if this was only the start of a tirade, but I wasn’t looking to make family drama. Sure, reality TV thrived on it, but the last thing I wanted was for this little party to look like a late-night episode of Jerry Springer . Though imagining the queen pulling off her earrings to hand them to a friend so she could throw down had me struggling to hide a smirk.
“I’m happy to be well again, Your Majesty.” I dropped my grip on Fitz’s arm to lower myself into a curtsy to show respect. “Thank you for your generosity in my recovery.”
As I came up, I noted the way her eyes twitched, like a jungle cat rethinking her next attack. If she came after me again, she would look like a bully. Her lips tightened into a scowl, but she was pretty enough to pull it off.
“Please,” she motioned for everyone to take their seats, “let’s eat.”
Fitz glanced around the room, clearly searching for someone. “Where’s Father? I thought he was coming.”
The queen’s fa?ade fractured. “I’m afraid he isn’t feeling up to it.” She forced a smile back into place, red lips spreading painfully wide. “Next time, I’m sure.”
When we were kids, I noticed early on the way Fitz hid his emotions. It didn’t last long at my house. Between Mom and me prying them out of him, he learned it was okay, actually healthy, to express those feelings. There was even a moment in our last semester where he told off the principal for hypocritical testing policies and won the battle of wits. At the time, I thought he was just fired up and lucky. Knowing how he was raised, I realized now that it was years of training as royalty that had taught him how to form an argument, but it was me and Mom who gave him the voice.
Watching him struggle to conceal his emotions, I recognized that once he’d returned home, no one cared and he fell into old habits. He must have felt my concerned stare because he turned to face me. With a short shake of his head, he stopped my question early. Hand on my lower back, he escorted me to my seat. Keeping his voice below the chatter in the room, he said, “I haven’t seen him in days. I’ve been barred from him as well as you. I wanted him to meet you properly so he could give me his bles—”
A blonde woman intercepted us before I could take my seat. “Oh my, you’re Michaela, aren’t you? The one who rescued that little girl?”
Wait. I wanted to go back to what Fitz was saying. Was he asking his father to approve us as a couple? Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
“Yes.” Fitz slipped back into his role as the Crown prince. “Michaela, this is Celani Elderwood. She’s following your story and hoped you could chat for a bit.” He gave an apologetic smile and stepped away from us.
When Celani smiled, I expected danger like I’d experienced with Roxanne, but warmth radiated from her expression. Dare I say, she appeared to be a fan of mine.
“It’s so great to meet you. I’ve been following your journey ever since the hospital episode.” Celani motioned toward our chairs, and I sat next to her. “I don’t know if anyone else saw but I was watching you in that feed. Sadira got to the little girl first, but you were sprinting, weren’t you?”
I smoothed my dress nervously. “It was an emergency.”
“You were a woman on a mission.” She smiled and shook her head. “And that wasn’t the first time, was it? When I rewatched the bonus feeds, you’ve been in the background all along, always doing the most merciful things. Especially for Lady Sadira.”
My stomach twisted. “I like helping people.”
“I should say so. Why do—” She started to speak, but a footman cleared his throat behind her.
“Miss Elderwood, I believe you are in Master Bishop’s seat.”
Her lips pushed together as she considered her options. “Can’t we switch? I’m quite happy right here.”
Bishop shrugged. “Fine by me, but you do risk upsetting Her Majesty.”
Heaven forbid anyone do that.
Celani set her hand over my wrist. “I guess I’ll have to raise my voice to be heard.” She pushed her chair back and within seconds, Bishop filled the space.
“Thank you,” I whispered once I thought no one would hear.
“Any time.” He cleared his throat. “But I wager she’s the president of your fan club, so if you think it’s over, I promise, the interrogation has only just begun.”