by B. B. Hamel
“I know you wouldn’t let it, but I would feel horrible leaving them. I just—I can’t.”
“You will,” he insisted. “I need you, Bryce. You already provided me with good counsel when I was in an angry state and couldn’t think properly. I need you close by right now to keep me centered.”
I stared at him, completely taken aback. I didn’t think I had done anything special, but apparently I had. I couldn’t believe he was saying that he needed me, but there it was.
Could I really leave my parents behind? Trip would keep them safe; I was sure of that. He would never let them get hurt. But I would be such an awful daughter if I left and they were forced to stay behind.
I was so torn. Trip needed me, but I wanted to be a good daughter.
“It will only be temporary,” he said. “We can bring your parents when things calm down. A few days at most.”
I frowned. “That’s a little better,” I said.
“Please. Come with me.”
I looked into his intense eyes and knew that I had no other choice.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me say goodbye to my parents.”
“Good. Pack now. George will bring them in. I’ll be back to get you soon.”
Trip turned and quickly left.
I sighed, shaking my head.
This whole trip had gotten so far away from me. I couldn’t really believe it, but it was happening. I had never expected to go from a normal American girl to being so involved with the king so quickly.
But events were moving so fast, and I couldn’t slow them down. I couldn’t slow down myself, or else I’d risk getting left behind.
I began to pack. I’d say goodbye to my father and Lucy, and I knew they’d understand.
They’d be safe here. They had to be.
The better question was, would I be safe with Trip?
My stomach felt empty, and worry filled the rest of me.
20
Trip
The wind bustled gently through the leaves on the trees as I walked slowly down the lawn. Ahead of me, a stream bent between a copse of bushes, and suddenly I could hear helicopters chopping overhead.
The country compound was like that. One second it was an idyllic and quiet space, and the next it was full of security agents and machines destroying whatever peace I managed to find.
There wasn’t much peace anywhere, as it fucking turned out. Maybe I liked it that way; maybe I thrived on the violence. But my people didn’t, and I needed to put them first.
Somebody had tried to kill me. That was about as much as we knew a day after the event. The assassin’s name was Roger Clark, and as far as we could tell he only had minor ties to the rebels in the south. How he became an assassin and how he got into the castle were still a mystery.
But they were mysteries we were going to solve. My team was already poring over the security records, and if someone had used their access that day, we would know about it.
I could handle a little attempt on my life. I was a king after all. It came with the territory. But what I couldn’t handle was getting Bryce mixed up in everything, too.
She’d been quiet since we’d left the castle. I couldn’t tell if she was angry about leaving her family behind or if she was still upset about the attack. I assumed it was a mixture of both, and that was understandable either way. There was nothing easy or simple about surviving an attempt on your life, especially the way it had happened that night.
Just after I finally felt her body, that bastard had to appear. It was almost as if someone had timed it perfectly. Almost as if someone were trying to pin it on a certain American girl of note.
I shook my head. No. I couldn’t let myself go there. Speculating wasn’t going to do a thing about it. Speculating wasn’t going to solve the mystery. It was only going to drive me fucking mad.
Although, I was already going fucking mad.
I fucking hated being at the country house. I hated the peace and quiet, and I hated that security was all over my ass. Of course they were going to be, considering someone had tried to kill me, but I couldn’t stand being treated like I couldn’t take care of myself.
Obviously, I could. I was the one who had taken care of the killer, not my security team.
I sighed, shaking my head. I looked back over my shoulder and waved at Al and the boys. They were hanging back a bit farther than they wanted, but they were always within sight.
I gestured and Al quickly came over to me, stopping and bowing slightly. He was clearly angry with himself for failing me and had been going really hard on the royal respect shit all day.
It was getting on my nerves.
“Al,” I said, “for the hundredth time, stop bowing.”
“Yes. Whatever you command, Your Highness.”
I sighed. “Get me Max,” I said. “I want an update.”
“Right away.” Al gestured at his team and a man was dispatched.
I leaned up against a tree, enjoying the shade.
“Have you seen Bryce today?” I asked Al.
“No, Your Highness,” he said.
“How did she seem, when you last saw her?”
He was silent for a second. “Upset, Your Highness.”
“Stop saying ‘Your Highness,’ damn it,” I said.
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
That was good enough. I probably wasn’t going to get better.
“Do you have any experience with this sort of thing?”
“What thing, sir?”
“Helping a civilian get over something like that.”
“Not exactly,” he said after a short pause. I raised an eyebrow, interested.
“Tell me,” I said. “If you want.”
“It was my sister,” he said. “It’s not an easy story to tell. She went through something during the border skirmishes ten years ago, when your father was still alive. It hit her pretty hard.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I was patient.”
I nodded. “I can do that.”
“But many people are fine,” he said quickly. “I don’t know Bryce, sir. She seems strong. She might be okay.”
“How’s your sister now?” I asked him.
“She does well, sir. She got her life back.”
“Good.” In the distance, I saw a golf cart coming toward us. Al’s man was driving, and Max was next to him. “Thank you, Al.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” He bowed again and rejoined the security team.
I sighed. He was going to keep doing that until he did something important, I was willing to bet. Could be a while at this rate.
Max climbed off the cart as soon as it pulled up next to me. “Your Highness,” he said.
“Stop with that,” I said. “Trip today, please.”
“Okay, Trip. You wanted an update?”
“Please.”
“Our team has gone through the records, and so far we aren’t finding anything out of the ordinary. We’re looking for anyone who checked in or out during the two hours before and after the assassination attempt, and so far everyone is coming up clear.”
“Bad news,” I grumbled.
“Except for one thing,” Max said. “There was one minister who came and went multiple times during that period: Nicolai Corvin.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Corvin? He’s not important.”
“No, he isn’t. But we’re doing some investigating anyway, just in case.”
“Very well. Any known connections to the democrats?”
“None that we know of. They wouldn’t be easy to find at any rate. These men aren’t stupid.”
“No, they aren’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Good work.”
“Thank you, Trip. Is that all?”
“One more thing. How is Bryce?”
“She seems well, honestly.”
“Where is she?”
“In her room at the moment. I was going to bring her some lunch soon.”
“I’ll bring
it to her.”
“Are you sure? There are meetings you may need to attend.”
“She was nearly killed because of me, Max. I can’t neglect her now.”
“Very well. They can be postponed.”
“Good. Let’s head back.”
He nodded and we headed over to the cart. I let Max sit up front, since he was quickly becoming an old man. I sat in the back, in the least comfortable seat, but that was no big deal. I could handle discomfort.
It was failure that I couldn’t handle. I couldn’t fail my people, and I couldn’t fail Bryce.
21
Bryce
The country estate was about what I imagined, but even more beautiful.
There was a single main house with a small grouping of other buildings and a few barns and stables for horses. There was a wall around the whole estate, and the place was absolutely crawling with security. They were spread out along the lawn one every fifty yards or so, and they were constantly patrolling.
The helicopters kept me up. I was exhausted as I leaned back in my chair, looking out the window.
I hadn’t left my room yet. Trip had been whisked away with his security detail, and I’d been stuck getting dragged along in a different car. I wished I could talk to him, but I guessed he had really important things to do.
Which was unsurprising, considering there was a rebellion going on and we’d almost gotten killed.
As I tried to get some sleep when we finally got to the estate, I just kept seeing that man. I had been naked and so vulnerable, right after one of the best moments of my life. Trip had saved me, moving fast to get me out of the way, almost without any regard for his own wellbeing.
Everything after happened so fast. I’d left my parents behind, but now I was beginning to regret that. They should be with me, or at least I should be with them.
I barely knew this place. I barely knew Trip. And yet suddenly I was getting dragged around, thrust into the middle of some war I couldn’t understand in a country where I didn’t even speak the language.
I was so far out of my depths that it wasn’t even funny. I could hardly breathe. I felt like I was stuck under the ocean, doggy paddling toward the surface.
But I wasn’t in the ocean. I was sitting in a large, lovely old room in a comfortable chair looking out at a gorgeous view.
The memory of Trip’s body flitted back through my mind. I could still feel his hands against my skin, his lips against my neck, the way he handled me and took me. The way he made my body feel.
That was the good part. That was the part I wanted. In that moment, I had called him my king, and I’d absolutely meant it. He could have taken me any time, any place.
Until that man showed up and destroyed whatever good feelings I’d had. He attacked us when we were at our most vulnerable, and I couldn’t stop thinking about his disgusting face every time I imagined what it felt like to be with Trip.
He’d completely ruined that. He’d taken that moment and destroyed it. I hated him for trying to kill us, but I could never forgive him for destroying that intimacy.
I understood people did things like that. He was probably incredibly misguided and thought killing Trip would save the country. I might have been sympathetic if all I knew about the situation was that a bunch of democratic people wanted to overthrow a dictator.
But Trip wasn’t a tyrant, and these democrats were a bunch of violent assholes. That guy just had no clue which side of history he was on.
And ultimately, that didn’t matter. It wasn’t my country. But Trip could mean something to me, although now things felt broken.
There was a knock at my door as I sat there stewing in my own misery.
“Come in,” I called out, assuming it would be Maximillian again.
Trip stepped inside. “Bryce,” he said.
I looked up. He grinned at me and nodded to the tray in his hands. “Hungry?”
I frowned. “Not really, no.”
“Max said you haven’t eaten.”
“Does the king usually do room service?”
“Only when he’s hungry, too.”
“You haven’t eaten either?”
“I’m not exactly hungry for food,” he said, grinning.
I sighed. Trip looked incredible as always. He had on his formal suit, which was tailored perfectly to his muscular body. The stubble growing on his chin and cheeks made him look gorgeous.
“Okay, fine,” I said.
“Get in bed and undress.”
“I meant okay to the food.”
“Oh,” he said, smirking. “Damn.” He walked over and put the tray down on the table. It had bread, meats, cheeses, and a little bowl of soup.
“Traditional Starklandian lunch,” he said. “Local breads and cheeses, some smoked pig and cow, plus this special bean soup that we use as a dip, basically.”
I nodded, not feeling hungry. “Looks good.”
“Go ahead.”
Trip took a piece of bread, dunked it in the soup, and started eating. I wanted to be polite, so I did the same thing.
And I sure as hell was glad I did. It was delicious, rich and earthy, with some spices I couldn’t even begin to identify. The bread itself was incredible, crunchy on the outside and perfectly fluffy on the inside.
“Holy shit,” I said through a mouthful. “This is amazing.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, grinning.
“I mean, thanks.”
“The chef here is impressive. He doesn’t get to cook for the king very often, so he goes all out when he does.”
“Tell him I was impressed.”
He laughed, taking a bite of some cheese. “Sure, though I doubt he’ll care much if some random American girl likes his cooking.”
“He should care,” I said. “I’m awesome.”
“Yes, you are.”
We ate for a minute or two in silence. The cheese was delicious, smooth and creamy and sharp all at once. The meat was good too, and clearly incredibly fresh.
“Most of this stuff is made right here on the grounds,” Trip said, reading my mind.
“It’s really good.”
He nodded, and then he looked serious for a second. “Look, I’m not here just to feed you.”
“I suspected that.”
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”
I looked away. “I don’t think I want to.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to.”
“What’s there to say?” I asked. “That guy was a prick. You did what you had to do.”
“I know that.”
“It was scary, okay? I keep thinking about it. I keep seeing his face.”
“That sort of thing won’t happen again,” Trip said. “I promise.”
I stared at him, and for some reason I believed him. Maybe it was the huge increase in security, or maybe it was the earnest and intense way he was staring at me, but I suddenly felt oddly safe.
“Okay,” I said.
“You trust me?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, “but right now I believe that if you could stop something bad from happening, you would.”
“Good enough,” he said, “because that’s the truth.”
“Has there ever been an assassination in Starkland before?” I asked him.
“Hundreds of years ago,” he admitted. “Actually, historians think my family assassinated your family to take over the throne, but lots of people don’t agree with that.”
“Really?” I asked. “You jerk.”
“Hey, not my fault. I’m barely related to those pricks anymore.”
“You’ve got a little prick in you.”
“And you had a nice, thick prick in you,” he said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes. “Good one.”
“Thank you.”
“Just so we’re clear, that wasn’t a good joke. I’m not sure if you get sarcasm, since you’re the king.”
He laughed. “Why? Becaus
e I’m surrounded by yes men?”
I grinned at him. “Exactly. Everyone is obligated to laugh at your stupid jokes.”
“Untrue. Back in nineteen ten, my ancestors decreed that no person shall fake laugh at the king’s jokes.”
“What penalty?”
“Death, of course.”
I laughed, shaking my head. I suddenly felt starving and started to eat a bit more. He smiled at me and ate along with me.
For the first time since we left the castle, and since the man attacked, I felt okay. I didn’t feel perfect again, but just laughing like this and acting normally with Trip was making me come back to myself. He was just so clever and charming, and the confidence with which he did everything was so impressive and alluring.
I had the stupid urge to reach across the table and touch his face, but I resisted. I didn’t know where we stood. Maybe he’d gotten what he wanted and was finished with that. Maybe he was just protecting me because he felt obligated.
Whatever was happening, I felt better. We joked and laughed for a bit longer, until I realized, to my absolute horror, that I had eaten almost every single thing on the tray.
“Oh my god,” I said, leaning back. “I ate like a pig. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, laughing. “You’re not capable of doing anything like a pig. And you needed to eat.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have gone to town like that. It was your lunch, too.”
“I’m the king. I can eat more if I want.”
I laughed. “Good point. I’m just a commoner after all. I should eat when I can. Who knows when we’ll go hungry while you rich barons grow fat and happy.”
He grinned, looking out the window. “It might have worked like that once, but not anymore. If my people were hungry, I’d go hungry, too. Fortunately that’s not our problem.”
“Civil war is your problem,” I said softly.
“Yes. Civil fucking war.”
We were silent for a second, and that thought hung in the air between us. Finally, I spoke up.
“Trip, I want my parents to come join us here.”
He shook his head no. “We spoke about this. They’re safest back at the castle.”
“There’s a small army here. I can’t imagine they’d be safer anywhere else.”