34. Elena #2
Something in my chest stirs, fast and bright. “At least now,” I whisper, my voice quieter than I intend, “you’ll always have a piece of me with you when you wear it.”
He doesn’t answer. Not with words.
His hand comes up instead, finding mine, pulling me forward before I can even think to react. His other hand slides to my waist, steady and sure, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is slow at first, purposeful, grounding, but it deepens quickly, like he’s been holding it back and finally stopped trying. I feel it all the way down to my fingertips, heat and something fiercer threading through it.
For a moment, I forget where we are. Forget that anyone else exists.
When he pulls back, it’s only enough to look at me. His eyes are brighter now, something burning behind them. “I always have a piece of you with me,” he voices, low and certain.
He takes my hand again, gentler this time, and places it flat against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm.
Strong.
Then he lifts my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, once, twice, lingering a second longer than necessary.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I’ll cherish it. Always.” His gaze meets mine again, unwavering. “Just like I will you.”
My chest tightens, full in a way that almost aches.
I don’t trust my voice, so I don’t try.
I lean in and kiss him again, softer this time, slower, like I’m trying to hold the moment in place, to press it into memory before it can slip away.
And I do.
I tuck the moment carefully alongside all the others, the quiet, fleeting pieces of us I refuse to lose.
“It’s that time, huh?”
I’m halfway out the door when I see her, arms folded, propped against the frame like a guard who isn’t letting anyone pass.
I zip my jacket halfway and stare straight ahead, ignoring the controlled chaos unfolding behind us as everyone rushes to prepare for our departure. If I look back for even a moment, I know I won’t walk away.
“Last time I saw you bring out that jacket, we snuck into a movie without paying,” Hannah reminisces, bemused from the doorway.
I glance up. She is leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, pretending to study me like I am a problem she can solve.
“It worked last time,” I reply.
“It did.”
Hannah pushes herself off the doorframe and walks over, adjusting the creases around my shoulders with a sharp little pull.
“Too loose,” she mutters.
I watch her hands work. Steady. Precise. The same hands that have pulled me out of more disasters than I could count as kids.
“Since when did you start worrying about the tightness of my clothes?” I ask.
“Since you decided to disappear on what likely could be a suicide mission with that crazy aunt of yours,” she shoots back.
“It’s not a suicide mission.”
She gives me a look, and I have to fight back a grin.
“Okay,” I sigh. “A moderately dangerous mission.”
From across the room, Braydon is speaking in a hushed voice with Alexei, studying a tablet filled with surveillance feeds.
“The perimeter teams are doubled,” he confirms without looking up. “Air defense is on alert. Anyone even sneezes near the palace, we’ll know about it.”
Hannah nods toward him. “See? We’ve got this.”
I raise a brow. “You sound extremely confident.”
“Because I am.” She turns to face me fully then, the joking edge fading from her expression. “While you’re gone,” she continues, “Braydon’s coordinating with Abby, Reid, and Parliament, and I’m sitting in on every decision. No one moves a piece on the board without us knowing about it.”
“You’re going to make half of Parliament cry,” I tease.
“Good. Serves them right for even entertaining the possibility that another monarch should be considered.”
I keep my eyes on the hallway ahead, but the whispers follow anyway. Not real whispers, those would’ve been easier to ignore.
The Parliament doors close a little too quickly when I walk past. Conversations cutting off mid-sentence or calls ending abruptly. The careful way members of Parliament and even the media start phrasing things now.
For the stability of the crown.
For the future of the country.
And the one they never quite say directly.
Perhaps the future needs… someone else.
I tighten my hands together.
Oksana has done more damage than any enemy army ever has, fracturing trade alliances, emboldened attacks within our borders, and worst of all, planting doubt where there used to be certainty.
And the citizens…
The citizens are scared.
Not of war. Of whether the crown can still protect them.
Somewhere along the way, the question has started to circulate in quiet rooms and behind closed doors.
Should a new monarch be considered?
The thought makes something sharp twist in my chest.
Not because I fear losing the throne. But because having the crown has never been the point.
I’ve bled for this country. Fought for it. Stood in rooms where every decision felt like choosing which fire to put out first. And yet lately, when the whispers reach me, my first thought isn’t about the throne. It isn’t about power. It isn’t even about the country.
It is about the people waiting outside the palace gates. The ones who trust me to come back.
Alexei.
Hannah.
Abby and Reid.
The small, stubborn circle of people who don’t care about crowns or Parliament or political storms.
The ones who will be standing here when the dust settles.
If the crown falls tomorrow, the country would still need someone to fight for it.
But for the first time since I’ve taken the throne, the country isn’t the thing I am most afraid of losing.
I laugh quietly. “That’s exactly why I trust you.”
Her lips press together for a moment. “You better,” she mocks softly. “Because you’re leaving me behind with an entire country.”
I step closer to her. “You’re the only person I would leave it with.”
The voices in the hallway grow louder.
Hannah glances toward the sound, then back at me. “You always did have terrible timing for adventures.”
“Alexei calls it heroic destiny.”
She snorts. “I’m pretty sure Alexei said the opposite.”
I grin.
Right on cue, Alexei and Braydon approach behind Hannah, their conversation coming to an end.
“It’s time,” Alexei announces gently. “Our pilots have informed us we’ve got a weather window.”
I nod but don’t turn right away.
Another reason I’d insisted Hannah stay behind, one I haven’t said out loud, is selfish in a way I can’t admit to anyone else.
Out there, beyond these palace walls, there is enough to worry about without adding her name to the list of people I might lose.
Here, she has Braydon, one of the best agents in my royal guard, and an entire network of soldiers who would answer to both of them without hesitation.
If everything goes wrong, if this mission fails, if I fail, she will still be here, steady and sharp as ever, holding the line and protecting Zurdonia from anyone bold enough to think the crown has fallen.
And knowing that means when I step onto that plane, there will be at least one person I don’t have to look back for.
Hannah looks at Alexei, resting her hand on Braydon’s forearm, before jerking her head toward the door.
“Give us a minute.”
They raise their hands in surrender and step back into the hallway.
For a moment, the only sound is the distant voices that follow along with them.
Hannah rubs her arms as the room feels a few degrees colder.
“So,” she broaches.
“So…”
“You’re really doing this.”
I give a small shrug. “Kind of past the point of backing out.”
“Yeah.” She sniffs once and looks away. “Figures you’d save the world on a Tuesday.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“See?” she points out. “Terrible timing.”
I smile.
She steps forward and grabs my jacket collar, straightening it like she used to do before school presentations years ago. “You better be careful out there,” she demands.
“I will.”
“No unnecessary heroics.”
“That depends on the definition.”
“Your definition is terrible.”
“Fair.”
Her hands linger there for a second before dropping. “You need to come back,” she insists in a hushed tone.
The words hang between us.
I reach for her hand. “I will.”
“You don’t get to say that like it’s optional.”
“It’s not.”
She searches my face like she is trying to memorize it. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Her breath shakes once, and then she pulls me into a hug so tight my ribs protest.
I wrap my arms around her, returning the fierceness.
“You better not make me run this place permanently,” she mutters into my shoulder.
“You’d enjoy it too much.”
“Maybe,” she admits through a sniffle she is trying desperately to hide.
We stay there for a moment longer than either of us will ever admit out loud.
Finally, she steps back and wipes quickly under one eye. “Go.” She shoves my shoulder lightly. “Before I lock you in here.”
I smile reassuringly and head toward the door.
Before I step out, I look back.
She is standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded again, trying to look like the unshakable woman who can hold an entire country together.
“Take care of everything,” I tell her.
She lifts her chin. “Just bring yourself back home.”
I smile.
Then I walk out into what I hope is not my last time through these palace gates.
The sharp clink of glass against glass cuts through the low hum of the plane.
My gaze pulls away from the oval airplane window.
Blue sky stretches endlessly outside, bright, clean sky, but the clouds below sit thick and swollen, piled together like bruises. Heavy. The kind of clouds that promise a storm. I press my forehead lightly against the cool window for a moment, watching them drift beneath us.
The same weight settles in my chest as we fly toward a confrontation with my aunt… and with Wendell.
A few rows behind me, Alexei and Ruslan murmur in low, focused voices. Strategy. Contingencies. Plans stacked on top of plans. The moment their conversation turned tactical, Fletcher joining them, I slipped out of my seat and moved down the aisle without a word.
I needed space.
Silence.