12. Chapter 12
Michaela
T he sting wouldn’t leave me alone. Not as we loaded into the vans again, and not all the way back to the palace. To make it worse, the victors came with us. Though it would broadcast as the sun going down and us losers leaving them behind to enjoy the sunset and the princely prize, the reality of it was we had a few hours to kill, and they didn’t want their future queens looking chilled.
Oh, the lack of reality in reality TV.
A large buffet waited in the dining hall, but I didn’t feel like eating. More than the disappointment over our loss, I was struggling with that look Fitz had sent my way. I hated feeling like I’d failed him.
The others on my team didn’t gravitate toward the table either. Blair hadn’t said a word. Maybe she was worried it would open the door to a chorus of I told you so ’s. Which, for the record, I kinda did. Sadie had gone more recluse than ever. And Chantal looked half a breath away from homicidal behavior.
And the winners? A bubbly mess of congratulations and giggling excitement. They’d already divided Fitz’s time up like he was a cookie they had to split. Personally, I didn’t like sharing my man.
Maybe I was weird.
I crossed my arms and leaned against one of the goat-free walls. I swear, that goat crest was everywhere, and where I usually found it quirky, today Mr. Goat Head looked really judgmental.
Or maybe I was superimposing Fitz’s expression on the goat’s face.
What did it mean anyway?
Not the goat.
Fitz.
Did he want my team to win?
Did he want more time with Blair? Sadie?
Chantal?
My stomach twisted at the thought.
Was he looking for an excuse to ignite an old flame?
My skin twitched with nervous energy. I hadn’t talked to Fitz recently, and I felt in the dark about every single choice he was making. Why was I even here if he didn’t want to use me?
The walls of the room tightened with every panicked thought until I felt like a mime stuck in an invisible box. I spotted the grey-haired guard against the wall and started in his direction. Typically, I found most royal guards to be decidedly aloof. They didn’t respond, they didn’t engage, they stood on guard like mindless soldiers, but the grey-haired one who’d helped me watched my approach as though he’d anticipated it.
“Yes, milady?”
“It’s stuffy in here. Can I get some air somewhere?”
His eyes flicked toward the women behind me who were acting out some kind of fantasy about their group date with Fitz. A fit of laughter filled the air and my eyes closed for a second as I tried to ignore them.
“I know a place. Follow me, milady.” He started away from the doorway and I stayed on his heel, not wanting to cause any trouble. Last thing I needed was to wander into a war room or worse, his parents’ suite. The guard walked with long strides, perfectly confident in his direction. Meanwhile, I skittered a bit to keep up. I thought it would only take a minute or two. A quick walk to the garden, maybe a trek out back where they let basketcases like me burn off nervous energy.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to take you away from your post.” I took a couple quick steps to try to catch up to his pace. “If you need to go back—”
“ You are my post.” He didn’t so much as break stride to tell me. “Orders of the prince.”
I, however, definitely faltered for a few. In fact, I stopped right where I was and stared at him as he walked away from me. Too stunned to speak.
It took him five more long strides before he turned to check my position. Brow furrowed, he faced me as if it was perfectly normal to tell me that I’d been assigned a royal detail by the prince.
“Do all the girls have a guard?” It felt like a reasonable question.
“No, milady.” He really didn’t understand why I was asking. “You’re special.”
Special… What did that mean? Was this because I was American, and it was in his best interest to keep me safe or was this something more? Did I really mean that much to Fitz?
Somewhere in the midst of trying to revel in the idea that he cared more than I’d ever considered, another idea occurred to me.
“Wait.” I took a couple steps forward, so I didn’t have to raise my voice. “Are you assigned to me in order to keep me safe, or are you here to keep the kingdom safe from me ?”
Mischief twitched at the corner of his mouth, as if to signify that I was smarter than I looked.
“Depends on who you ask.”
I didn’t waste any time. “If I asked the prince?”
“He told me to protect you with my life.” My guard straightened and squared his shoulders. “And I shall.” In one sweeping motion, he brought his arm across his chest and beat his fist against his shoulder.
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Number one, no one had ever pledged to so much as save my seat on a bus or hold the elevator door for me, let alone give their life for mine.
And two, what on earth was Fitz scared of that would make that sort of promise necessary?
Without words, I started walking again, albeit a little dazed. He fell in step as well, though our pace adjusted to my speed instead of his. “Since we are going to spend some time together, what should I call you?”
“Kabir, milady.”
“And you’re good at all this?” I didn’t mean to doubt him, but I hadn’t been in this position before. “The prince trusts you?”
A faint smile flashed before he nodded. “I’ve been his personal guard since he was born.”
I had so many questions, but at this point, only Fitz could answer them.
“It’s great to meet you, Kabir.” I drew in a deep breath and let it whistle through my teeth. “So, where are we headed?”
My guard warmed a bit. “His Highness told me you have a fondness for literature. I thought you might enjoy a break in the library.” He took the final turn, set his hands to double doors, and pushed them open.
My jaw dropped as I took in the room. Even Belle would have passed out at the sight of it. The Beast had nothing on this. Hand-carved wooden statues, mostly goats, of course, framed in the stacks, only outdone by the accent work of the upper balcony railing, chiseled with intricate filigree work. A roaring fire waited as if someone had known I was coming. Like most other hearths in the palace, the opening stretched at least five feet in both directions, but this one had been built with a bench of stone, ideal for a reader to sit and warm herself for a spell.
I doubted I could spend an entire day in the library and manage to take in even half the beauty. The ceiling alone boasted multiple fresco paintings with the most delicate attention to detail. Michelangelo himself would have cried at the perfection. Rolling hills with maidens, knights fighting for honor, and goats… My gosh, the goats had infiltrated the art. But the most breathtaking sight was the books. The spines, the shelves, the two stories of floor-to-ceiling literature that called for me. And the smell. Was there anything better in the world than the musty, dusty, almost sweet, heady scent of books that had been alive for hundreds of years?
Kabir watched me with knowing pride. “I’ll be outside when you need me, milady. Enjoy.” He gave a slight bow and then exited, pulling the doors closed with a soft click. Even those were carved to perfection and highlighted with gold leaf for good measure. Would there ever be a day that the palace didn’t steal my breath with its absolute splendor?
I made my way toward the books, taking in the layout of the room for the first time. Two couches framed in the center, with an overstuffed chair near the only other door in the room. Through the massive window on the far side, I watched snowflakes drift to the ground as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the sheet of untouched snow. Days were short in Nolcovia. The others would leave soon to return to Winter-Sparra. But I wasn’t in the competition, so there was no reason I couldn’t take the evening off and enjoy a good book by the fire.
I ran my fingers along the spines, greeting them like old friends.
Little Women.
Jane Eyre.
Wuthering Heights.
They had to be first editions.
I pulled a copy of Persuasion from the shelf. The cover cracked as I opened it, strangely satisfying as if it was stretching after a long nap. I took the space in front of the fireplace. The warm stones bled their heat through my jeans. I was like one of the lizards back home, stretched on a rock, soaking in the warmth.
Time slipped by as I read the familiar words. Exhaustion caught up with my jetlagged mind. I stretched across the stones and rested my head against my arm. The book flopped to the side as my muscles relaxed. I would only sleep for a minute. I needed it if I was planning to keep up with the competition later.
I heard a rumor that Fitz had called for a ceremony tonight, and I wouldn’t stay awake unless I got a quick nap. My eyes drooped and my muscles relaxed fully as the heat of the fire comforted me.
Just a minute… then I would get up.
A minute was a lie I told myself. Because, as my mind came to again, the sun had fully set.
“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat.
My eyes snapped all the way open, thoroughly startled. My gaze darted between the darkened window and the man who stared at me. Before I could freak out over his presence, a burning sensation in my thigh stole my focus. My side closest to the fire was scorching hot.
Though, for the record, the handsome fella who stared at me was even hotter.
I pushed up to a sitting position and stared with wide eyes, sure that I’d committed some cardinal Nolcovian sin.
His head tilted to the side a couple of inches. “Do you make it a habit to sleep by an open flame? Or is this a one-time self-incineration attempt?”
Fitz
I shivered, but not from the cold. Maybe a little from dread.
This wasn’t the team I wanted to win.
Spending the evening with them left me cold. I stepped closer to the fire Fallon had built and frowned. The producers had rigged the whole thing. Fallon and the nobles were given dry wood, while Blair was given damp kindling. I wasn’t supposed to know, but after I watched Fallon’s fire burst to life while Blair’s continued to smolder, I checked. Her wood had been practically soaked. Whether it was done to create drama or if my father had meddled to be sure he got his way, I didn’t know. I wasn’t the betting type, but my money was on the latter.
Cheerful chatter grew closer by the minute. I couldn’t afford to let my negative feelings show. I dug my hand into my pocket and pulled the charm free. The petite snowflake caught the glow of the fire. One charm given for this little outing. I could save one of them early, but who had earned it?
“Your Highness.” Esme reached the outer ring of light given by the dancing flames first. Her right hand covered her heart, and she caved forward in a show of devotion. As much as I hated to admit it, she’d caught my curiosity.
Granted, watching Coco beat her out on the course had gratified me even more. I still couldn’t believe she’d climbed the tree to get a better angle. But her ingenuity and determination knew no bounds.
The rest of them filed in with equal signs of respect, though Gwen did as little as possible. It had to strike a nerve for her. After years of being equals at university, bowing to a friend likely felt awkward.
“Welcome, ladies.” I wanted the evening to be casual. Time would slip between our fingers, and I needed to maximize my interactions with them in order to reach my goal. “Please come closer. It’s too cold to be standoffish.”
Tom had pulled me aside before they arrived to review the objectives of the evening. We would spend time around the fire first. He’d managed to procure the ingredients needed to make s’mores. None of the Nolcovians would know about them since marshmallows didn’t exist in our country, but I had memories of my own, of course laced with thoughts of Coco. In fact, it felt off to be standing around the fire without her next to me.
After enough footage, Tom instructed me that I should choose two of them for one-on-one time. I knew I needed to talk with Gwen, but who would be my second choice?
Esme eased in beside me and linked her arm through mine. Forward, but truth be told, I didn’t mind. “You’re so warm. Do you mind if I cuddle close?”
“Of course not.” I had a hard time not being charmed by her nature. Timid, yet bold. It was a side of her I hadn’t seen yet, and it appealed to me. Knowing she was my father’s choice created a dichotomy within my psyche. A desire to rebel against him paired equally with my drive of attraction that urged me closer. Beauty like hers came once in a lifetime. I thought of her words last night. Was she right? Was it only a matter of time before our fate became intertwined?
I felt Gwen’s gaze from across the fire. By the frown she wore, I gathered she didn’t approve of Esmerey either. Had Michaela shared her notes on the subject, or were they both seeing something in my blind spot?
Shaking it off, I went to work, showing them how to spear the marshmallows to roast them in the fire.
“It’s squishy!” Margaux squeezed the treat until it bulged on either side. “Why is it like that, Your Highness?
“I honestly don’t know.” Her smile was infectious, and I found myself getting lost in it. “But wait, because it gets better.”
I put my marshmallow at the edge of the flame, careful not to let it catch fire. They watched as the white exterior slowly browned to a golden shade. I made quick work of assembling the s’more and took a healthy bite. A soft hum buzzed from my chest. For a minute, I was a teenager again, camping with Coco, and nothing could touch me.
“May I try, Your Highness?” Esme’s voice beckoned me back to the present. Her doe eyes stared up at me, innocent, sweet, and mesmerizing.
“Uh—yes, of course.” I passed the whole thing to her hands and watched her dainty lips wrap around the corner to take a bite. “Mmmmm.” I found myself hanging on her reaction, captivated by her. “It’s delicious.”
No words remained, not with my heart racing its way up my throat. Her satisfied smile left me breathless, like I’d earned a treat by gaining her approval.
“Oh!” Eirene’s voice broke the spell. I turned to find her marshmallow had caught fire. “My prince! It’s become a torch.”
Acting quickly, I took hold of the length of her roasting stick and blew over the charred confection. The flame extinguished immediately, but I felt a pull in my heart. Coco always loved the burnt ones.
Why couldn’t she have won the challenge despite the odds being against her?
I shook off the wave of disappointment. My gaze landed on Eirene instead. I knew very little about her, only that she’d helped my mother and had earned a position in the competition.
“Lady Eirene.” Every other face turned to look at us, and I swore their jealousy burned hotter than the fire. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”
She hesitated. Why would she hesitate?
“Of course, Your Highness.”
The second she accepted, my security detail moved in as though to inspect her. I held up my hand to stop them. “We’ll only be a minute.” I motioned for Eirene to follow me away from the fire and she soon fell in step with me. Frustrated by the necessities of my life, I apologized. “Sorry about that.”
Eirne’s face turned toward the distant hills, highlighted by the rising moonlight that kissed the snowy tips. “After everything last night, I understand their concern, Your Highness. But,” a hint of amusement snuck into her tone, “to put your mind at ease, they did search us thoroughly before we left the palace and then again once we arrived here.”
While it did put my worried mind at ease, it also left me uncomfortable. “They shouldn’t treat you like criminals.” Footsteps crunched the snow behind us, a cameraman following from a distance to capture what he hoped would be an intimate moment. We’d all been outfitted with microphone packs, so even if the video came out badly, our words would serve their purpose. The thought made me ache for privacy.
“Where are you from, Eirene? I don’t think I know.”
Once again, guarded in her response, her mouth twisted to the side as she thought on her answer. “Urdania Province now,” she sighed, “but originally from Corswald Province, Your Highness.”
I understood my security detail’s reaction immediately. Eirene originated from the most rebellious province in the country, the same province that had launched an attack last night. My feet faltered and suspicion sparked to life in my heart. Would I be safe alone with her? Was this what they had waited for? And here, I’d sent away my bodyguards.
“We’re not all violent rebels, Your Highness.”
My discomfort eased out of me in a weak laugh, knowing she’d picked up on my reaction so quickly. Either I was an open book, or she was insightful. “You give your full devotion to the monarchy, then?”
Her immediate silence brought back the fear. Finally, she found the words to explain her position. “While I wish you no harm, and while my own rebellion is intellectual in nature, I’m afraid I can’t give the full devotion you seek.”
“You dare disgrace the crown?” I hoped she understood I wasn’t angry, but instead curious. It took great courage to say the words she did.
“I’m not the one who caused the disgrace, Your Highness.” She looked away, perhaps judging how much insubordination I would endure before I put her in her place. But I wasn’t in the mood to shut her down. I wanted to understand. Too many treated me with kid gloves when it came to matters of state. If I was about to be king, then I needed to understand what I was facing. “With much of your country silently suffering, the royals have done little to earn my respect.” She drew in a short breath but pressed on. “I understand that my words may qualify for treason, but I don’t regret them. If you have to, send me home, I won’t hold it against you, but,” she stopped and fumbled with the clasp on her bracelet, “this will pay for food for many families where I—”
I set my hand over her wrist, stilling her movement. “On the contrary, Lady Eirene,” I found myself staring at her in absolute wonder, “I value your words. Please, tell me more.”
Michaela
I stared at the intruder, shocked at his audacity. Where did this guy get off? Coming in and accusing me out of nowhere?
“I wasn’t going to burst into flame.”
“I beg to differ.” His eyebrows rose a quarter inch. “Your pants are on fire.”
I recognized the phrase from my childhood immediately. “I’m not lying!”
“No,” he leaned to the side and pointed, “quite literally, your jeans are smoking.”
“What?” I sprang to my feet and spun around like a dog chasing its tail, but that only made it worse. The trail of smoke twisted around me and confirmed his allegation. “Oh my gosh!”
I shifted away from the fire, thinking that being close to the source was only making it worse, but at the same time the handsome stranger swept forward to put out the hazard. We crashed against each other and landed in a heap. Taking no thought for whether I was okay with it or not, he gripped my hip and patted down my thigh and backside while I died from embarrassment.
“There we are,” he said with a few more pats before he leaned on his elbow, comfortably perched above me. “Only a light charring.” With only a foot between us, I didn’t miss his crooked grin as his gaze locked on my face. “Yes, here we are… ”
Oh, Michaela! How did I get myself into these situations? How would it look if someone walked in on us, him sprawled over the top of me in front of a roaring fire? It wasn’t like anyone would believe I’d nearly burst into flames.
My palm slammed repeatedly against his shoulder, patting him roughly to remove him from the place where we’d literally landed. “Super grateful for your help, but I’m fine.” Finally free, I sat up to put space between us. “But thank you.”
He rolled back, arms bent behind him as he rested on his forearms to face me. “You are quite fine, I have to agree.” His gaze drifted lazily over me from head to toe and then back up again.
“Stop that,” I scolded as I scrambled to my feet. “This,” I pointed my finger between him and me repeatedly, “is not a flirty thing here.”
Pushing off his arms, he sat up and shrugged. “It could be.” His eyes took another lap for good measure. “If you’re interested.” With a lazy finger, he pointed at my face. “By the shade of your cheeks, I would wager you are.”
I clapped my palms over my deceitful cheeks and took another step backward. “Look, I’m only here for Fitz, so whatever biological response you’re seeing is purely the issue of—” I noted his wide eyes and wicked smile, “What?”
He leaned forward, hooking his arm around his knee as he still stayed on the ground. “Did you say Fitz ?”
“No.” I responded way too fast. “Of course not.” I spun around and headed toward the door, looking for escape.
The sanctuary intruder made it to his feet in record time and barred the way, excitement in his eyes growing exponentially. “You did. You just called the Crown Prince of Nolcovia Fitz . And by your accent—”
“I don’t have an accent,” I fired back. “You do.”
“ By your accent ,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “you must be the American.” He crossed one arm over his chest, perched his elbow on it, then cradled his chin in his hand, as though to mime deep thought. “Tell me, how do you know my cousin?”
Unsure of how to answer, I held my tongue as I considered the repercussions. “We met overseas.”
Not bad. Vague enough.
“He’s only been to America once,” the stranger interceded. He took lengthy steps toward me, cutting our distance by half and doubling my pulse instantly. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” I couldn’t screw this up for Fitz. And yet, I felt like I was navigating a treacherous trail through a crocodile-infested jungle. Was it just me, or was my friendship with the prince one of the most guarded mysteries in the kingdom?
“And if I asked it now?” He wasn’t backing down and he kept moving closer. How bad could it be to give my name? Most of the country knew it after last night’s broadcast.
“Michaela Caldwell.”
His hazel eyes narrowed. “Perchance, are you the infamous ‘Coco’ he used to gab on about?”
My nickname wasn’t common knowledge nor was our adolescent friendship. But something made me want to confirm the truth. Maybe it was because he was the spitting image of Fitz. A little taller and muscular with hazel eyes instead of brown and, of course, he didn’t have that stressed-out, forced-to-rule in the worst circumstances look that Fitz did.
But looking alike didn’t mean they were friends. I didn’t owe this stranger anything.
“I need to get going.” I shifted to move around him, but he quickly filled the space to block me.
“Answer something for me.” He had an uncanny way of hedging up my path without ever touching me. “I understand why Fitz would be a derivative. And for the record, I approve the nickname. It humanizes him… Poor stiff.” He squinted, showing his consternation. “But Coco? From Michaela? It makes no sense. I don’t see the connection.”
“Please,” I tried to appeal to him, “I don’t want to be late.”
“You won’t be,” he assured me. “He’s not back yet.” His scrutinizing stare watched for my reaction. “Does that bother you? Your Fitz out with other women?”
“He’s not mine.”
“Oh,” the stranger laughed at the thought, “let me assure you he is, dear Coco. You’re all he talked about until your name was banned from the palace walls.” He frowned as a new thought occurred to him. “I’m surprised they even let you disembark your plane.”
“What do you mean?”
All too smug that he had answers I wanted, he shrugged. “Explain Coco’s origins, and I’ll tell you.”
He wasn’t going to give up, so without knowing his name, I relented. “My mom gave me the nickname. I was born with dark hair and lots of it. She always said it was the shade of baking cocoa.” That’s all she called me. And it stuck. It explained the name, but not why the Crown Prince used it. I gritted my teeth, knowing I’d have to trade a secret for a secret. “Fitz was around my house so much, he got used to using it too. That’s all.” I crossed my arms like I meant business. “Now spill. Why wouldn’t someone want me here in Nolcovia?”
“That was hardly the juicy secret I was hoping for, but I suppose a deal is a deal.” He frowned, but even with time he couldn’t seem to find a loophole. “Aside from me,” he stretched the word out to give it emphasis, “you’re the biggest threat to the crown.”