10. Elena #2
I suck in a sharp breath as my eyes fly open.
Hannah stands over me, concern etched across her face as I sit in my seat on the plane.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You with me?”
I blink, grounding myself as my hands grip the armrests. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t realize I dozed off.”
She laughs quietly. “It’s been a while since I heard you talk in your sleep.”
“I was talking?”
She nods. “Couldn’t make it out. Just muffled sounds and a lot of heavy sighing.”
I smooth my hair back. “Where are we?”
“Petrova. We landed a few minutes ago. Lance is checking things out before we deplane.”
I nod, my mind still half-tangled in the past.
My hand flies to my chest.
The rose is still there.
“You sure you’re okay?” Hannah asks, watching me closely.
“Yes,” I say, mustering a careful smile.
“Well, come on then,” she says, brightening as she turns toward the back of the plane where Braydon and Blake wait. “Let’s go.”
I follow her, but the weight of gold against my skin feels heavier than it ever has.
“Queen Elena, I am Donald Chadwick, advisor to King Maxwell and Queen Lizzie. We welcome you and your guests back to Petrova.”
He delivers a quick bow, his professional mask slipping from his face for a fraction of a second before his eyes dart away from me to where Lance, Braydon, and Blake stand close by.
A flicker of nervousness dances across his features before he clicks his fingers, and three young men come hurrying forward to begin unloading the luggage from the plane.
“Thank you,” I say, tilting my head.
Donald waves toward a black stretch limo parked nearby. A well-dressed man in a chauffeur’s cap stands at attention by the driver’s side window. We climb in quickly, with my security team wedged in with Donald on one side and Hannah and me on the other.
“The King and Queen are very much looking forward to having you here,” Donald says as the limo pulls away from the airport and heads toward the palace.
“We appreciate your hospitality,” I reply, falling into my queenly cadence.
Outside my window, Petrova unfolds in greens and blues. Something about this place is so reminiscent of Zurdonia. It’s as though my very heart reaches out to recall those familiar hills, feeling the cooling breath of autumn as summer yields. It is almost as if this is home.
Almost.
Thirty minutes pass, and the limo turns to stop in front of Petrova’s palace.
King Maxwell and Queen Lizzie wait by the entrance with a girl not more than twelve years old by their side.
Her light brown hair frames her face, with her right hand firmly in Queen Lizzie’s grip.
Their smiles widen as we alight one by one, until I’m the only one to step from the limo.
Lizzie releases the girl’s hand and moves toward me without hesitation, pulling me into a warm embrace. I catch Donald’s fleeting scowl before he bows to his king and enters.
“Elena,” Lizzie beams, “It’s so good of you to come and visit us.”
“It’s wonderful to be here,” I reply, hugging her back.
The girl moves forward, almost radiant. “Welcome, Queen Elena.”
I turn to her, smiling. “You must be Lady Arabella.”
She eagerly nods. “Yes, that’s me.”
I raise my hand in greeting to her when she hugs me first, wrapping her arms around me in the warm embrace. Behind her, Max stands with a proud smile on his face. I know he treats Arabella more like a daughter now, ever since her father retreated into his grief after her mother’s death.
“I appreciate such a warm welcome,” I say as Arabella steps back.
Max comes down the stairs and stops in front of me. “It’s good to have you here, Elena,” he says quietly. “Even if the circumstances aren’t ideal.” His voice drops on the last words.
He turns toward Arabella. “Why don’t you show Queen Elena’s guests around the palace? Lizzie and I need a word with the queen.”
Arabella’s face lights up as she moves toward Hannah, the two immediately chatting as they disappear inside. The rest of us make our way through the grand entrance, a palace resplendent in gold, deep red, and travertine stone.
Once inside the office of Max, my security personnel wait outside, and the atmosphere immediately changes. The pressures of the crowns, protocol, and public image are shed. This is where we can simply be individuals.
“How are you holding up?” Lizzie asks once the door closes.
“I’m… here.” I answer after a beat.
Max exhales, his brows furrowing. “I’m sorry. I know this can’t be easy.”
Lizzie automatically draws closer to him, touching his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it packs a lot of impact. That’s what Alexei does when he knows there’s a change in the atmosphere of a room. That’s how he knows I need to be anchored.
We’ve been separated for days before, after our marriage when duty called. But never like this. Never with danger hanging between us, or uncertainty about when, or if, we’ll be reunited.
“There was a time,” Lizzie says softly, “when Max faced something similar. The woman his parents arranged for him to marry wanted the crown, and him out of the way.”
Bitterness sharpens her tone.
Max gives her hand a squeeze, and an understanding passes between them before he turns to me again. “I’ve gotten to know Alexei well. Petrova stands fully behind you. And we intend to help however we can.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning far more than the word can hold.
“And no one knows you’re here,” Lizzie adds. “Our security will work directly with yours. Whatever you need.”
Gratitude swells in my chest, heavy and humbling. Especially knowing my presence could draw danger to their doorstep.
“I have a meeting shortly,” Max informs. “But I’ll join you, ladies, for dinner later.”
He kisses Lizzie’s cheek, earning a faint blush, dips his head at me, and exits. I can’t help but grin as Lizzie observes his exit.
“I’m a little envious of you two,” I admit once we’re alone.
Her face changes, hardening into sharp angles. “Do you have anything new? Any clues beyond your belief that this traces back to Wendell?”
I shake my head. “Parliament says everything came in anonymously. As former king regent, he could’ve copied protocols, intelligence, anything sensitive. But he’d need help. He’s been imprisoned for over six months, and Alexei confirmed he’s had no outside contact.”
Lizzie settles onto the sofa. I join her across from it. “So, you have no idea who’d help him.”
“None.”
No one here knows about my abilities. About the visions. The vision of my past on the plane claws at my thoughts, and my fingers drift to the rose pendant beneath my blouse, tracing its cool edges.
“I appreciate everything you and Max are doing,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to bring danger here.”
Lizzie snorts. “There’s always danger that comes with royalty.” Her tone softens. “But I don’t want you to feel trapped. This isn’t a prison. You’ll have freedom here.”
My lips curve. “This is why you and I get along.”
She laughs softly. “Must be our American side.”
She goes on to outline what I can do during my stay: access to the archives, time in the gardens, even space to work privately if inspiration strikes. When she finishes, she reaches for my hand.
“Don’t worry, Elena. Everything will work out. Alexei will be here before you know it.”
I nod with a smile, but my grip tightens around the rose.