25. Chapter 25
Michaela
T he crate was moved inside the warehouse, along with three others. As the rest of the party followed, Bishop tightened against me, trying to keep us in the shadows. For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes. Something about this had him shaken.
“Your services are no longer needed.” There was no mistaking the veiled command for the men to depart. Apparently, she didn’t want them around when she opened her mysterious crates. As the truck pulled away, only the queen, Gwen, and two royal guards remained.
The queen’s fingers traced the top of a crate. “This will change everything,” she whispered. “His final days are not far off. This is my only hope at this point.”
With his face partially turned toward me, I watched Bishop’s lips part in surprise. It was one thing to speculate, but to hear her wish death on her husband without hiding it, that hurt. After all, he was Bishop’s king as well.
“My queen,” Gwen’s voice faltered as she broke the silence, “I’ve done as you’ve asked. Will you please honor your side of our bargain?”
Her icy stare turned on Gwen, who, in turn, dropped her gaze to her feet with a bowed head. “Your secret is safe, Gwendolyn,” she brought up a single finger to show the caveat before she spoke it, “ if this proves to be what you say, but if not, your province will know your secrets.”
Gwen’s normally cheery face paled considerably. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.”
Satisfied, the queen turned her attention to the larger of the guards. “Open this at once. We have no time to spare.”
My mind raced with what might be inside. A weapon? Poison? Documents that would prove his undoing? What was worth this amount of trouble and secrecy?
Jamming a crowbar into the crack on the side of the crate, the guard applied leverage. A deep groaning wail split the air wide open. I retracted as though I planned to push through the wall, and Bishop pressed closer to me. A shriek burst from the crate, something unholy and wild. My mind went back to the story that Fitz had told me. All those spirits and creatures, was there a chance it was all real? Had Gwen secured some paranormal goblin that would suck out the king’s soul?
We watched from our hiding place, holding our breaths as the rest of the crate’s lid gave way.
“Careful,” the queen admonished. “Delicate hands.” As the lid pushed back, her eyes sparked with excitement. Whatever she’d been seeking, it was there in the crate. “Well done, Gwendolyn. Well done.”
The guards moved to retrieve the item, but she called them back, eager to do it herself. Her gloved hands dipped inside the box, and I leaned forward, suffocated by curiosity as I waited for answers. The thudding in my chest felt like it would give away our position, but they were all locked on whatever the queen was pulling from the crate.
It emerged in her grasp. Black and oily, hard to comprehend at first, and larger than I expected, somewhere between a hawk and an eagle. Its eyes popped open as its head swung around on a gangly neck. A bird. Like a black flamingo with shorter extremities.
“A Craboon Blackwing,” Bishop whispered with wonder. “How’s that possible?”
This was about a bird? Was it a killer bird? Venomous? What was I missing?
The queen wrapped the tether connected to its leg around her wrist. As if understanding, the bird stretched its wings and shuffled until it found a suitable place on her forearm where it rested. Finally settled again, it let loose another ear-splitting shriek. My whole body tensed as I fought the urge to cover my ears with my hands. Wincing, I waited while the queen smiled at her new prize.
“Yes,” she rubbed her gloved finger over the bird’s thick beak and spoke affectionately, “you’ll do nicely, won’t you? Just the trick to heal him, yes?”
As if to agree, the bird’s head ducked and bopped back up, like a nod.
“Do you really think it’ll work, Your Majesty?” her guard spoke for the first time.
A wistful sorrow rose in her eyes. “Desperation makes me want to believe our legends now even more than before.” She swept away the emotion almost immediately. “Come. We can’t let this one be seen by anyone but the king.”
They left through the loading dock’s opening and within minutes the door released and rolled shut with a thundering crash. I held still, unsure if they were really gone. The air waited with us, tense and uneasy, as we took time to process what had happened. Bishop’s feet scraped the floor as he moved to stand. My frigid hand slipped into his, but I found myself distracted by the pained worry pinned in his expression.
“What was that?”
What queen met shady smuggler-type people in the dead of the night with the country’s favorite bachelorette? And what did the funny-looking bird with a screeching call have to do with it? What crazy Nolcovian backroom cloak-and-dagger trade off had I just witnessed?
Bishop released my hand without answering and moved toward the crate. “I’m not sure. I thought the Craboon were extinct.” He stuck a hand inside the crate as if he planned to find evidence. “But then, it makes perfect sense, all things considered.”
I stopped short, feeling the need to set him straight. “Literally nothing about this makes sense, Bishop.”
He spun and faced me as if he’d remembered I was still there for the first time. “Right, you wouldn’t know.” His palms pressed against his pants as if to rub them dry. “The queen is deeply superstitious, yes?” I nodded so he would keep going. “Nolcovian legend says the Craboon Blackwing has the power to absorb sickness from a person. It then flies toward the sun to purge itself of the virus. They used to be plentiful around Nolcovia. But about two hundred years ago, people started trapping them, thinking they could harness their power somehow.” Bishop shook his head, obviously disgusted. “Stupid, since it’s a myth with no basis in science. The bird didn’t do well in captivity and too many died. Laws were passed about capturing them and then about fifty years ago, they were marked protected as an endangered creature.”
“And yet, the queen has one on her arm?”
“The last known location for the birds was a forest in the heart of the Aclusia Province.” He motioned for the door where they’d exited. “Gwendolyn’s home. Obviously, she wanted to land in my aunt’s good graces. I wager she’s worried about her chances with Leonidas.” He smirked. “Probably because of you.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “I’m not even in the running.”
“And yet he fawns after you, doesn’t he? The cameras may not capture every wayward glance he casts your way, but those of us in the room haven’t missed a single one.” One rebellious eyebrow twitched upward, daring me to correct him. “Have you ?”
I looked away, unwilling to entertain this line of questioning. “We’ve always been friends.” I tried to shake off the bitter ache. I moved around him to look inside the crate myself. “We’ll always be friends.”
“Right,” Bishop found my thought pattern amusing, “because that’s what a new bride wants, a female friend for her husband.” He moved closer, coming up behind me. “Someone he can’t keep his eyes off of,” Bishop’s fingers trailed over the back of my hand where it rested on the edge of the crate, “maybe not even his hands. After all, it can be a struggle to resist.” He waited for me to look at him. “But, yeah, I’m sure she’ll be fine with you being friends .”
I hadn’t thought about it before. What would our relationship look like after Fitz was married? Especially now that things had changed between us. At least before we could claim that nothing had ever happened. That wasn’t the case anymore, even if we buried it.
“Now, if you wanted to trade for a similar Nolcovian model…” Bishop eased closer. “Perhaps one with less responsibility and no country to guard,” his breath brushed against my ear, “that could be arranged.”
I shifted out of his pending grasp. “Be serious, Bishop.”
“I’d rather not, actually.” He winked. “I’m fond of the silliness, you’ll find.” His grin edged into place. “And the flirtiness. And the kissing. It’s a favorite pastime of mine.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” The word player was practically printed across his forehead like a cow brand. I nodded at the crate. “Explain more about this. She said she wanted to heal him, right?”
Bishop rolled his eyes, a two-year-old forced to grow up for a moment. “Yes. Apparently, she’s not the threat I thought. I can’t tell you how disappointing that is.” He thought about it for a moment. “And then, how equally upsetting it is that I’m disappointed.”
“I get it.” My finger traced the top of the open crate. “And if you got to pin it on someone who didn’t think highly of you then… all the better?”
“A girl after my own heart. Calling it like it is.” He laughed to himself. “It would have been easier that way, wouldn’t it? Two birds and a single stone. But alas, the fates laugh at us.” His elbow knocked into me. “See? We’d be good together.”
“Right, me the American and you the Nolcovian. How would that long-term relationship work exactly?”
“Relationship?” Bishop shook his head and frowned. “You’ve been around Leo too long.” With tender care, he pushed my hair behind my ear, but his fingers lingered on the length of it. “You don’t have to plan out every step of your life. That’s a great way to end up hating the lot of it.”
Like I knew any other way. Ever since Dad died, I had to plan out everything because if I didn’t, I feared it would fall apart. If I wanted college, I had to have a plan for how I was going to pay for it. That led to pageants and practice, endless hours spent with my coach learning how to be the best. Even my hobby, designing dresses, was all about planning. The perfect shape, the contoured lines, and the way it all came together in a cohesive pattern.
And yet, where had it gotten me? Unemployed while my favorite designs were stolen and I had no way to prove it. I was back at square one. Planning hadn’t ever gotten me anywhere. In reality, impulsively flying to Nolcovia was the most fun I’d had in… ever.
“Besides,” Bishop’s grip shifted to my shoulders, “living in the moment leads to much more adventure.”
The pressure of his grip urged me to face him. Staring up at him, all I could see was Fitz. In his eyes, in his smile, the shape of his face. Fitz was all I wanted, so my brain was willing to fill in the gaps to make it happen. As much as I wanted to play pretend and let him become the surrogate for the one I couldn’t have, it wasn’t fair to Bishop.
“This isn’t smart.” I pressed my lips together. “If I kissed you, I…”
“Would be kissing him,” Bishop finished for me. “And what if I said I was okay with that?”
That made no sense.
“Why would you?” The space between us lessened. Was it him? Was it me? Did I care?
“Because,” he swallowed hard, “it may start that way, but I doubt it would end that way.” His eyes dropped to my lips, like he needed to be sure he was on track. “And, to be perfectly honest, because I find it nearly impossible to resist you, Michaela Caldwell.”
The air thickened between us, the chill chased away by his heat. Bishop waited, unwilling to push it, but he wasn’t going to back away either.
Was he right? Did I plan too much? Maybe I had been around Fitz too long. He was focused on marriage and running the country, but before this trip, I wasn’t looking for love or marriage. Maybe I got lost in the magic and romance of it all.
Bishop was attractive, charming, and better yet , available .
Unlike his cousin.
“He’s crazy not to pick you.”
“Bishop…” My fingers slipped over his bare arms. Since he gave me his sweater, I felt the goosebumps prickle to life beneath my touch. I wrapped my grip around his biceps, noting he wasn’t quite as strong as his cousin. When Fitz wrapped his arms around me, I felt tiny and, because of it, protected. Bishop was incredibly attractive, but a poor substitute for the real thing.
“If you’re not here to compete for his heart, would this,” he motioned between the two of us, “really matter?”
“It shouldn’t.” Rationally, it shouldn’t. I was there to help Fitz find a wife, but Bishop didn’t know what had happened earlier. The thought of that moment was enough to jar me to my senses. My chest clenched with an ache to be near Fitz again, unsatisfied with Bishop and his promises.
“Say the word.” Bishop’s breathy whisper brushed over my cheek. “Say it and I’ll—“ His whole body tightened. The door behind us slammed backward with a clang. A blast of cold air swirled around us. Bishop cursed under his breath, but it had nothing to do with the cold.
“This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.” Another voice came from the night, strangled with frustration. I whirled around, ready to set Fitz straight. But as I met his pained stare, I failed to find words. “This is why you ran off? You had a date?” Fitz motioned at Bishop. “With him? ”
“Not exactly chopped liver, dear cousin. I’m quite eligible.” Bishop practically growled beneath his breath. “The crown makes you different, not better.”
“Like you’d know,” Fitz fired back. “Your family hasn’t been fit to rule for eight generations.” His volume dropped. “And now this? A new low, even for you.”
“What?” Bishop stepped away from me. “Convincing a beautiful woman that there’s more to life than a pretentious prince? I consider that a great victory.”
“You would.” His disgust turned on me. “I thought you were smarter than this, Michaela.”
I didn’t deserve his venom. “Nothing happened, Fitz. We were talking and—“
“Alone? In a nearly abandoned building? Please, tell me more stories. This is quite entertaining.“ His face twisted with emotion, but he turned away. “On second thought, forget it. I’m done. You can have each other.”
Fitz stepped through the open door, but I hurried to catch up. I made it three steps before Bishop caught my hand and anchored my steps.
“Why are you leaving?”
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “To explain this. He doesn’t understand.”
Bishop’s brow crushed inward. “I’m afraid that makes two of us.” His grip tugged as if to bring me closer, but I didn’t move. “You don’t owe him anything, Michaela.”
“I’m his friend.” I pulled my hand free. “I owe him that.”
He didn’t move to stop me the second time. Before I left, I shrugged his sweater off and draped it across a crate near the door before I stepped out into the bitter cold. My feet slipped and slid as I scurried to catch up with Fitz. More than once, I hit the ice, but I forced myself to get back up every time, knowing I had to catch him.
“Fitz!” I shouted. “Fitz, wait for me!” But he didn’t turn. He wasn’t waiting. Still, I pressed on, desperate to explain what he’d seen. “Fitz, please!”
Only twenty feet off, he stalled mid-step. He didn’t turn, but he didn’t leave either. The shadows felt thicker than before. It had to be near one in the morning. Even with my layers, the cold sliced right through. But I couldn’t give up, not now.
“My name,” he still didn’t turn around, “is Leonidas, Crown Prince of Nolcovia. And it would do you good to remember it.”
The words stung like a slap. Never once had he corrected me to use his given name. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.” I faltered, unsure of this place we’d landed. “Just talk to me,” I begged as I closed our distance to only five feet.
With the urgency of a sloth, Fitz turned toward me, expression like a stone. “Not a topic I wish to discuss, Michaela. I’ve never been one to enjoy hearing about your romances.”
“And why is that, Fitz?” I pulled at the thread I’d wondered about for years. How long had he been harboring these feelings?
“Because you date losers.” Fitz motioned to the building behind us. “Case in point.”
“It’s not like that.” I shook my head. “And don’t change the subject.”
Fitz
What did she want me to say?
Because I know you can do better.
Because you’re amazing and yet your taste in men is abysmal at best.
Because I’ve loved you for ages, but only realized it tonight when you kissed me.
Because I’m falling apart at the thought of you with anyone else.
But none of that would come easily. All of it required more than I could give her.
“I told you, I’m not having this conversation.” My nervous system raced with adrenaline, an animal in a trap with nowhere to go. “Your life is yours, but maybe you shouldn’t be living it here.”
Her eyes widened, but her lips parted with confusion. “What are you saying?”
Once more, my options ran through my mind.
I can’t look at you without aching.
Not touching you makes me hurt all over.
I’m dying to kiss you but fear you’re not mine after all.
“You’ve served your purpose.” I kept emotion from my voice as I’d been trained. This had to be a choice of the throne, not the heart. “Maybe it’s time you go home.”
“You won’t choose me?”
I forced myself to believe she was referring to the next choosing ceremony, less than eighteen hours away. I tried not to think of what it would look like, or how I would feel not fastening a charm to her bracelet. She’d been with me every step of the way. Most of my life.
Giving her up… Could I do it?
“You’ve done your job.” I signaled with my hand, knowing he’d see. Sure enough, Kabir stepped from his hiding place and into the light. He was the one who alerted me to their rendezvous, and I was deeply grateful he could help me escape this moment. Without looking away from her, I issued my command, “Please escort Lady Michaela to her quarters. I believe she was sleepwalking.”
I turned and started for the palace again, desperate for space between us. I was nearly to the door before I heard a sound that ripped my heart in half.
A single sob.
The sure sound of her heart breaking too.
You won’t choose me? Echoed through my thoughts, forcing me to face the truth of what she really meant. But the truth was, in the end, I couldn’t choose her.
Letting her go was the only choice left.