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The sting wouldn’t leave me alone. Not as we loaded into the vans again, and not all the way back to the palace. To make it worse, the victors came with us. Though it would broadcast as the sun going down and us losers leaving them behind to enjoy the sunset and the princely prize, the reality of it was we had a few hours to kill, and they didn’t want their future queens looking chilled.
Oh, the lack of reality in reality TV.
A large buffet waited in the dining hall, but I didn’t feel like eating. More than the disappointment over our loss, I was struggling with that look Fitz had sent my way. I hated feeling like I’d failed him.
The others on my team didn’t gravitate toward the table either. Blair hadn’t said a word. Maybe she was worried it would open the door to a chorus of I told you so’s. Which, for the record, I kinda did. Sadie had gone more recluse than ever. And Chantal looked half a breath away from homicidal behavior.
And the winners? A bubbly mess of congratulations and giggling excitement. They’d already divided Fitz’s time up like he was a cookie they had to split. Personally, I didn’t like sharing my man.
Maybe I was weird.
I crossed my arms and leaned against one of the goat-free walls. I swear, that goat crest was everywhere, and where I usually found it quirky, today Mr. Goat Head looked really judgmental.
Or maybe I was superimposing Fitz’s expression on the goat’s face.
What did it mean anyway?
Not the goat.
Fitz.
Did he want my team to win?
Did he want more time with Blair? Sadie?
Chantal?
My stomach twisted at the thought.
Was he looking for an excuse to ignite an old flame?
My skin twitched with nervous energy. I hadn’t talked to Fitz recently, and I felt in the dark about every single choice he was making. Why was I even here if he didn’t want to use me?
The walls of the room tightened with every panicked thought until I felt like a mime stuck in an invisible box. I spotted the grey-haired guard against the wall and started in his direction. Typically, I found most royal guards to be decidedly aloof. They didn’t respond, they didn’t engage, they stood on guard like mindless soldiers, but the grey-haired one who’d helped me watched my approach as though he’d anticipated it.
“Yes, milady?”
“It’s stuffy in here. Can I get some air somewhere?”
His eyes flicked toward the women behind me who were acting out some kind of fantasy about their group date with Fitz. A fit of laughter filled the air and my eyes closed for a second as I tried to ignore them.
“I know a place. Follow me, milady.” He started away from the doorway and I stayed on his heel, not wanting to cause any trouble. Last thing I needed was to wander into a war room or worse, his parents’ suite. The guard walked with long strides, perfectly confident in his direction. Meanwhile, I skittered a bit to keep up. I thought it would only take a minute or two. A quick walk to the garden, maybe a trek out back where they let basketcases like me burn off nervous energy.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to take you away from your post.” I took a couple quick steps to try to catch up to his pace. “If you need to go back—”
“You are my post.” He didn’t so much as break stride to tell me. “Orders of the prince.”
I, however, definitely faltered for a few. In fact, I stopped right where I was and stared at him as he walked away from me. Too stunned to speak.
It took him five more long strides before he turned to check my position. Brow furrowed, he faced me as if it was perfectly normal to tell me that I’d been assigned a royal detail by the prince.
“Do all the girls have a guard?” It felt like a reasonable question.
“No, milady.” He really didn’t understand why I was asking. “You’re special.”
Special… What did that mean? Was this because I was American, and it was in his best interest to keep me safe or was this something more? Did I really mean that much to Fitz?
Somewhere in the midst of trying to revel in the idea that he cared more than I’d ever considered, another idea occurred to me.
