Chapter 23

23

One week later

Hank

"Have you talked to Tessa?" Jim asked and immediately gave a brief shake of his head. "I mean Thala."

We were sitting on the front porch drinking beer and watching Edgar mope around the grassy area. He was doing exactly what I'd been doing. Moping. But my moping included a side of stalking.

"No."

Kade had given me her new number. Garrison and I were still part of the investigation, but our scope was on a larger scale, having to do with energy companies manipulating geopolitics. Sokolov had gone into hiding. Thala wouldn't answer any personal questions or comment on how she was adjusting back to castle life. When I passed her information that would help with their investigation about the conspiracy against the House of Targen, her reply was a simple, "Thanks. I'll pass it along."

"There was an article about her and a British earl," Jim said.

"They were at an event together and those rags are just trying to pair her off." Even when I knew to overlook tabloid fodder, it still pissed me off. The article stated that she and the queen should start thinking about begetting heirs or abolish the Argent law that barred members of the monarchy to marry a commoner. I was all for the latter. It would probably make me less pissy.

"Why aren't you going after her, son?" Jim asked.

"I'm not following." I leaned back in my seat.

"You're hanging around me and a mule instead of going after the girl."

"Thala and I had a fling. It was never meant to go further than her time here," I replied testily. "She's a princess. Royalty. Their laws state that if she marries a commoner, she gives up her title, royal status, and its benefits. She needs to marry an aristocrat born into a noble house which clearly, unless the Buchanans suddenly could trace their line back to British royalty…then this discussion is moot."

"Ha, Buchanans are made from sterner stock. We were the industrialists. We modernized farming at a time the aristocracy were struggling with the upkeep of their estates."

"That's hardly going to help my case here. I'm still a commoner."

"What's with the archaic laws? English, Danish, and Swedish royals have married commoners. And isn't Thala's father a playboy in Monaco? A lot of good that did them."

I was about to answer my uncle again, when the absurdity of our conversation hit me. "Have you been researching this shit on the internet?"

"Not me," Jim grumbled. "Jill. She's heartbroken that you and Thala are not together. She said she felt blessed to witness the blossoming of your romance from the Valley Roadhouse to the festival."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I said, more annoyed than angry. "Just…stop." Words failed me. Frustration had been my bitter companion all week. Thala and I had known our time together had an expiration date. We'd only been together a week. So why was this so hard? A heavy weight sat on my chest, and sometimes, painful spasms clenched my heart muscles. If I didn't know better, I would have taken myself to a cardiologist for a checkup.

Even staring straight ahead, I could feel Jim giving me the side-eye.

"What?" I gritted.

"That last night before Thala left… Something felt off. And don't tell me I was imagining things because Jill felt the same way."

"I didn't handle her leaving well."

Jim gave a humming sound that didn't sound like he believed me.

I glared at him. "What? I didn't."

He continued to stare at me.

I looked away and took a swig of the beer before admitting, "I fucked up, all right? I let Christian fuck with my head."

"What does Christian have to do with you and Thala?"

"He came by wanting a favor. For Thala and I to make an appearance at the winery. When I said no, he got pissed. He threw Mom's cheating at me, at how I'd always been jealous of him for not having parents who gave a shit."

"Your mom cared. I cared."

I looked at my uncle. The part of me that felt connected to him expanded. "You did. I just didn't understand why the rest of the Buchanans seemed to hate me. Like how Gram and Gramps forbade me to even call them that."

"Shit. Don't tell me that's why you fucked up with Thala."

"I'm out of her league just as Dad was out of Mom's league."

"I can't believe it. You're going to let class define your relationship with her?"

I huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Do you need me to remind you she's a princess?"

"Princess aside, it didn't stop you from sleeping with her."

I narrowed my eyes at my uncle in warning.

He scoffed. "What? We're adults. You slept together. Big deal. What I don't understand is how Christian managed to get to you. You're a SEAL. I'd even hazard a guess you work for some black ops supersecret organization or maybe an international organization seeing how you're overseas all the time."

The times I'd been undercover in LA, Jim thought I was in Europe. I didn't want him to know that I was in the same state in case he insisted I visit him.

Still, my uncle always kept in touch, even when he was a curmudgeon about me staying away.

"I don't know if you guys have gone pussy," he continued his rant. "How you let your sleazy, whiney cousin get to you. Didn't they train you for mind games like this? What's it called, PSYOPS?"

Fuck. Dammit. He was right. I let Christian get to me.

"Look, I loved your mom. CeCe was my baby sister, but I was not blind to her faults. She'd never been happy as the Buchanan middle child and she was rebellious."

"You're the black sheep."

"Maybe I was the bad influence."

"She wasn't happy with Dad." I heard their fights all the time.

"She loved Milton, son, and they'd been happy for a time. You were too young to remember. But your dad thought that if your grandparents accepted him, it would make life easier for your mom. For you. Your dad caving to our parents' demands disillusioned her."

"Did she marry Dad just to spite Gram and Gramps?"

"Partly. I don't know. I knew she wanted to travel, but she got pregnant with you, and no, she wasn't blaming you for tying her to this place. I had my own problems then, and I wish I could have helped her. What I'm saying is, I'm seeing a parallel between you and Thala…"

I snorted a mocking laugh. "Hardly."

"It hasn't reached that point, but if you want to take a chance on the princess, don't think about pleasing anyone else but her. She's your priority."

"Is that your elderly advice?"

He squinted at me. "No. That's the advice I should have given your dad when he came to me and asked me for some. I was brave on my own in defying the family, but I wasn't brave enough to help CeCe and Milton. I was a coward thinking that if I told them to go against family and they ended up in a worse spot, they would blame me. I didn't want that responsibility. By the time I stuck my nose in it, it was too late for Milton. And no advice I gave CeCe would stick."

"You shouldn't blame yourself," I told him. "They made their choices."

"And it's up to you to make your own. Think hard if you're going to let what happened to your parents let the best thing that happened to you slip away."

I couldn't believe Jim with his sentimental wisdom. "Do you have earbuds in your ear, and Jill is telling you what to say?"

"They are her words," he responded sheepishly. "I'm just passing along the wisdom."

"Thanks."

"Now go get your girl."

With Thala's princess status and the Argent law, he and I both knew it was easier said than done.

Thala

"I feel like I'm cheating on you when I think of him. But you two would get along."

Prince stood still while I brushed him down. I had missed my horse, but I was missing Edgar too, as well as a particular red-haired man and his shit-eating grin.

Since the plane touched down in Venusstea, it had been a whirlwind of damage control. Some European tabloids called me the prodigal princess. That "shame on me" for faking my death and abandoning the country to traipse around the United States with a donkey. They even got Edgar's equine identity wrong. Damage control also came in the form of a series of balls and formal dinners with foreign dignitaries and Venusstean officials. Yesterday, there was a meeting at parliament to talk about the future of the stean basin.

Lobbyists from both PragueCog and the white hydrogen interest groups wooed the monarchy and parliament. We'd also sent summons to Sokolov and Iona/Roxana, but our investigators could not find them.

"Thala."

I exhaled deeply and turned to face Petros. My brother appeared to have gotten older in the past two weeks since this whole drama began. He was the same height as Hank, four inches taller than me but leaner. He had a narrow face, and his hair was a dirtier blond than the chestnut gold of mine and Amadea. Petros had the bearing of a statesman and lacked the swagger of a warrior.

Amadea and I trained for both.

As prime minister, he'd been busy and we didn't get a chance for a heart-to-heart. The first day back here was a lot of hugging, a few tears, but we never talked about the details that mattered. It was as if we didn't want to upset the status quo.

It was his friendship with Sokolov that let the wolf into the chicken coop. Trite comparison, and Amadea's words, but there was no other way of putting it.

"Petros." I gave him a head-to-toe appraisal of his tuxedo, reminding me of another evening and another dinner to smile and nod. "You're early."

"And you're running late. I arrived early because Amadea wanted a meeting and I could finally get away from parliament."

I didn't have my watch, but I had my phone to check the time. My heart pinched when I saw another notification from Hank.

Hank

Edgar misses you.

He attached a short video of Edgar on his back on the ground with his legs flailing in the air in an attempt to scratch his back.

I couldn't help the smile that formed on my lips, but I also cursed Hank. Stop messing with my heart . Since my return to Venusstea, he'd texted me at least five times a day on my new phone. Sometimes, it was about the investigation, sometimes it was personal, but always he'd insert an update about Edgar.

I scrolled through my calendar. "Dinner is not for another three hours."

"I wanted to talk to you first." He nodded at my phone. "Who put a smile on my sister's face?"

"Edgar." My mouth twitched.

My brother stepped closer. His gaze turned penetrating. "Ah, but who is sending news about Edgar?"

"Mr. Bristow." I turned away from Petros to hide my expression. Closing the gate to Prince's stall gave me the perfect excuse. I gave my horse's mane one last stroke. "Later, my love."

Despite presenting a united front to the public, I couldn't help thinking we were navigating a tightrope. Each of us had an agenda, and I didn't want to give any of them ammunition. Least of all Petros because of his connection to Sokolov. "What do you want to talk to me about? Because if this is about PragueCog, they're in deeper trouble than they think."

"They officially fired Sokolov from the board."

I stopped walking. "They did?"

"He hasn't been responding to their summons either and they're cutting their losses rather than lose the entire stean ore deal."

"It's not looking too good for them. White hydrogen is more lucrative."

"But still speculative. There's no assurance that it's going to pay off."

This was not a debate for the stables, so I asked, "Has Sokolov contacted you?"

"What kind of question is that? I would have told you and Amadea."

"So, why do you want to talk to me first?"

"Can't I just want a chat with my younger sister? We haven't had a private moment since you arrived."

The truth was I was uneasy about any private moments. I didn't want them to see that Venusstea was the last place I wanted to be. How I was licking my wounds, and sometimes, my head was still in the clouds, thinking about my brief time with Hank. Our drive up to Northern California. How I held hands with a man for the first time, even if we were just acting at first and then later when it became real. I could do without the shootout on the interstate, but that was another exhilarating experience. Meeting his uncle and Edgar, having a tasty burger, and exchanging icebreaker questions with Hank, having the best sex of my life. The valley festival, riding to Jim's rescue…

I was licking my wounds because in one week, Hank had altered my world, shown me more excitement and happiness than any other time in my life. And I kept thinking, what if we had more time? More days, weeks, months. I had a feeling life with Hank would be anything but ordinary. He was already leading an exciting life as a spy…even if he hadn't admitted to being one.

And another bittersweet thought followed. I would have fallen in love with Hank and it would have been harder to leave him.

Petros and I had reached the back of the castle in silence. There were guards stationed all over the grounds and Kade's men were supervising their training on newer technology. I couldn't even find enthusiasm in that. And as if the weather was connected to my feelings, it had been cloudy all week, and the gloominess seeped into the marrow of my bones.

I was having Hank Bristow withdrawals.

The castle stood gray and ominous before us. Parts of it were built in the ninth and tenth centuries and past queens added to it over a millennium. The outside walls maintained its ancient beginnings, but most of its interior was modernized.

Before we walked through the slab doors that were almost a foot thick and twenty feet high, Petros clasped my elbow gently. "Something's bothering you."

"I'm simply adjusting to life back here." It was the same stone walls, the same stone flooring, but my footsteps plodding through the halls echoed with a wretched feeling of not belonging. There was a hole inside my chest. I rode Prince every chance I had, hoping to fill the void and make myself whole. That was the only familiarity I craved. Not this cold castle life. I'd discovered a new part of myself in California. I was capable of warmth.

My brother emitted a heavy sigh and that was when I looked at him.

His eyes pierced into mine. "You're missing this Hank Bristow."

A brittle laugh escaped my lips at the same time an unexpected pain stabbed my chest upon hearing his name from another person's lips. "I don't know what you're talking about. We spent a week together. That's it."

"But you're attached to this Edgar."

"We've formed a bond, that's all."

His gaze softened. "That's very brave of you, sister. To put your life at risk for a man you barely knew."

"Well, it's better than being an entertainer for the tourists." We turned to head up the corner spiral staircase. "Amadea and I had this discussion when I was gone. She told me she put me there so I'd hate it and decide what I want to do with my life."

"And have you decided?"

I'd been mulling what roles I wanted to take on in the governance of Venusstea. I think that was why, besides having Hank withdrawals, I was in limbo. "How about the Intelligence division?"

Was it my imagination or did Petros stumble a step? "Interesting. Are you sure you want to waste all your years of training to sit behind a desk?"

We reached the floor of my rooms. Ginny was my lady's maid and there were a few on staff that were new, which made me wary. I didn't like anyone waiting on me and the reason I had an entourage was because of the gowns I needed to get into.

Ginny met us with a look of relief on her face. "I was about to send out a search party for you. You need to get ready, Princess. I didn't know when to start the bath."

A literal bath of milk and honey.

"I think I just want to take a shower. I didn't do anything too physical today." The reason for a soaking tub was to soothe my sore muscles after a day of exhibition.

"I'll be with you in a minute," I informed her.

Her interruption gave me time to form a reply to Petros. "True. But after the events that transpired in the past weeks, we have to acknowledge that the threat isn't a ground or air war from other countries, but from greedy corporations who use mercenaries and assassins to force their agenda." I wasn't just thinking of Sokolov, but also Fisker. "I enjoy making connections and uncovering plots."

I eyed Petros this time, watching his every movement. He tugged at his collar and fixed his bow. Hank had never eliminated my brother from the conspiracy. And even with evidence stacked against Sokolov, he and my brother were close. They'd known each other from their uni days and had done joint business ventures. They'd been more circumspect after my brother became prime minister four years ago.

Even so, they played golf together and Sokolov was a frequent guest at all our dinners and balls. They locked themselves in the library to discuss business. Surely, Petros had an inkling.

"The CIA is rubbing off on you."

"Hank is not CIA."

"This Garrison chap certainly is and is not merely an attaché of the American ambassador."

I was sure Amadea knew the truth. And Petros was silently fuming because he wasn't in the know.

"Well, you asked what I want to do next," I said. "In fact, I already requested access from our internal security department and Amadea has signed off on it."

"First I heard of this. Shouldn't I be informed?"

"I'm informing you now as a courtesy. It only needs the queen's approval."

Petros's jaw clenched. "And what are you trying to find?"

"I'll let you know when I find it." Or not. "I'm going to get ready before Ginny fusses at me. They stocked the liquor cabinet with your favorite scotch."

"I'll wait for you in the sitting room, then."

I shrugged and went in search of Ginny.

For the sixth night in a row, Ginny primped me within an inch of my life. Upon my return to Venusstea, she was horrified to see my black hair and immediately ordered the hairstylist to come in and restore the original chestnut-gold coloring. Tonight, I told her to leave my hair down instead of coiffing it up in a tight chignon because I usually paid for it with a headache the next morning. Speaking of which, I wondered if Amadea's migraines were abating. Her doctor said it was from stress. I agree. But I was hoping with my return, her stress levels were lower. Ramsay was gone. At least the courts would not prosecute him.

"That's enough, Ginny," I told my lady's maid when she powdered my face and décolletage to reduce the traces of my tan.

"Pale skin will look better with the robin's-egg blue of your gown," Ginny gushed. "I'm so glad the Parisian boutique sent it here in time."

I never paid attention to fashion. That was the job of our PR department. They had my measurements and conferred with Ginny. After I dressed in the evening's regalia, I thanked Ginny and told her to take the evening off and she needn't wait up for me to help me prepare for bed.

Petros was still waiting for me in the sitting room, enjoying the glass of scotch I mentioned. He was on the phone, but when he saw me, he ended the call and put it away.

"You look stunning, sis," he said. He came forward and offered his arm. As we walked down the long hallway to the opposite side of the castle toward Amadea's residence, an idea occurred to me.

"You know, we should dispense with a few archaic customs."

"The Argent law?"

"Nothing that radical."

"Then what?"

"You know how we're presented to the public. You always have to fall behind."

"Are you suggesting I lead first?" Petros said in a teasing tone, because he and I knew that was impossible.

"No. The queen always goes first, but I think you should escort me, just like this. It's not like you haven't done it before, just not as an introduction to the royal family."

We reached the center of the castle, crossing a loggia that overlooked the ballroom on the first floor and the outdoors on the side. The caterer and palace staff had already decked out the area for the evening. Servers in white tuxedos and black cigar pants bustled around.

"I'm glad this is the last one for another week," I groaned.

"We need to show our allies that the House of Targen is strong, especially since we have a conflict in parliament."

We crossed into the foyer of Amadea's residence. Sixteenth-century paintings hung along the corridors. Amadea's quarters were more preserved, just like how my sister wanted to maintain our history.

She was already waiting for us in her sitting room, giving instructions to her aide.

The aide excused himself and left the room.

"Last one," she announced, then she winced and massaged her brow.

"Another migraine?" I walked over to her and gave her arm a squeeze.

"I haven't had one in a few days."

"And we thought I was the cure," I teased.

She grinned at me and looked over my shoulder. "Petros. I heard you arrived a while ago."

"I was keeping Thala company."

He joined me beside Amadea. "Have you taken something for your headache?"

"I'll work through it."

Petros and I glanced at each other. Maybe it was not a good time to broach the subject of ditching archaic customs.

"What?" my sister asked.

"Maybe not this time," Petros murmured.

I wasn't backing down, but I wouldn't argue if Amadea said no. "I was thinking Petros could escort me in to dinner."

Amadea raised a brow, but didn't say anything, waiting for me to say more.

"Obviously, it was just a suggestion," I rushed to say. "We want to present a united front. I thought this might be a good idea."

"Or have the press think we're trying too hard," Amadea said. "Let's not rock the boat right now. There's no negative press about you and Petros."

"All right."

Because of Amadea's headache, I held off inquiring about Ramsay.

The only thing I looked forward to was getting out of my role as an entertainer for the tourists. Though I was excited about the Intelligence division, I'd admit it wouldn't be the same without Hank. If my position there didn't work, then what was my use? Being the queen's guard was out of the question. There was still a chance for Ramsay's return, and I didn't want to be the awkward wall between them. Ramsay stepped aside for now because he'd become a source of friction between Amadea, Petros, and me.

Amadea and Petros talked about other parliament business. Instead of waiting for me to get ready, I wished Petros had talked to my sister instead and discussed all this beforehand. It was as if he was uncomfortable to be alone in the same room with Amadea and needed me as a buffer.

How did the three of us get to this point?

Forty-five minutes later, the queen's aide announced guests were arriving and taking their seats. It was time for our entrance.

Funny how I accepted the things I did for duty before, and now I scrutinized every little detail. Even rebelled against it. I wanted to be an ordinary person, enjoy a burger when I wanted, and not have to attend a ball night after night. But I also had to remind myself that this week was unusual and I would soon get to a new normal.

As the double doors to the ballroom opened, the notes of the string quartet greeted us. And as we'd done countless of times, Amadea went first.

I went second.

Petros followed behind me.

Our guests stood and clapped while we made our way to our table.

But my sister never made it.

She put her hands to her ears, and she turned around, her face a map of agony.

"What's wrong?" I rushed to her, wrapping my arm around her protectively.

A ringing buzzed in my ears, but quickly disappeared. I thought I'd imagined it.

"Don't you hear it?" she wailed. She sunk to her knees, her beautiful gown forming an exquisite cloud of fabric around her, but the pain on her face broke my heart.

"What do you hear?"

People crowded around us.

"Everyone, stand back!" I yelled.

Security swarmed around us but I wasn't sure if I trusted them either.

Through the ebb and flow of bodies barricading the queen, me, and Petros, I thought I spotted someone familiar wearing a server's tuxedo.

Someone I remembered from when this whole mess started.

The man I bumped into at the theater.