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“The other stuff,” Bishop said through clenched teeth, acting as though he was trying to start a ventriloquist act without a puppet. His eyes widened with meaning. “They saw the other side of the hill.”
I didn’t have the luxury of being angry at his unsuccessful effort to save me or how he was exacerbating the situation. Fear clouded my mind, but I forced it from my face. My intention in pulling Michaela over the side of the hill was to seclude us from the cameras, but if I understood Bishop correctly, they’d captured everything.
The way I’d touched her, my need to kiss her, and the longing I employed as I wrapped my arms around her, aching to bring her closer.
They’d seen it.
The entire kingdom might have seen it.
I’d never felt so exposed in my life.
Mother’s face hardened to stone. “Understand this, Leonidas. The American must go.”
“You can’t be serious.” I tried to laugh it off like she was looney. “You read into it, Mother.” I faced the fire, hoping to hide my expression as long as possible. “It was all for show.”
“That was a rousing show,” Bishop agreed, though I didn’t need his help, or whatever this was he was offering. “You had me convinced.”
“You’ll have most of the kingdom convinced once it airs,” Mother tagged on. “We are fortunate that the producers have reserved footage for us, at least for now.”
Her voice filled me with foreboding illness. If she had her way, she would burn it, so it never existed. I cursed my luck that a cameraman had thought to follow. If I had known, I wouldn’t have done something so reckless, but I was powerless to change it.
“She’s leaving, Leonidas.” Mother’s volume rose. “You agreed that if she came, you wouldn’t fall in love with her, and from what I saw today—“
“Let Leo have his fun.” I turned, surprised that my father spoke up. “What does it matter if he has a fling with the American? He won’t marry her. He’s taking the throne about fifteen years early. Shouldn’t he live a bit before he’s anchored down?”
“You’re just chuffed your pick is still in the running.” Mother’s mouth tipped into a frown. “All of mine have gone home.”
“Well,” Father managed a weak smile, “you should have chosen better.”
Before they could get into it, I interjected my opinion. “Nothing happened. We got swept up in the game. Father is right, I can’t marry her and I won’t turn away from the crown. Michaela poses no risk.”
“Besides,” Bishop chose this moment to speak up, “I plan on sweeping her off her feet myself.”
I faced him, unable to hide my horror at the thought. My cousin had the gall to wink like it was some joke. He was the last person on earth I wanted within ten feet of Michaela.
“You’re hardly her type.”
“I don’t know,” he quirked his eyebrow, infuriating me more. “Our last interaction was rather… hot.”
Showing emotion would confirm my mother’s suspicions, so I clenched my jaw and kept my genuine feelings at bay. “Either way, we know I don’t have a future with Michaela, but she’s been helpful in her insider’s role.”
“Helpful?” Mother’s scorn filled the air. Behind her, the door clicked open as Reginald stepped inside with a tray of food. He took one look at the room and reversed his steps. Before he left, I waved him inside as Mother continued her outrage. “She’s convinced you to make common girls into noblewomen. You’ve given away gifts and jewelry, and who knows what else she has planned before she departs?”
I nodded as if I was listening, but it was more for show. She raged on, complaining that Michaela didn’t understand our culture, her station, the government, on and on, but I wasn’t listening. Reginald set the tray on the table, and I nodded to the covered platter. “What is it?”
“Fish head soup, Your Highness.” He waited through my frown, knowing I despised the dish. “I instructed the chef to include extra bread.”
“Good man.” Pulling the envelope from my vest pocket, I extended it toward him without direction. As he took it, his eyes skimmed the name on the front, dubious about my decision as my mother lost her mind over the same woman. His eyes narrowed, questioning the choice. With a slight nod, I issued a silent command.
“What’s that?” Mother paused in her tirade as Reginald started for the door. “What did you hand him?”
I waved her off. “A bit of post. Nothing of concern.”
“This late?” She wasn’t buying it. “Who on earth would you write—“
“Theopald Ginate with the Department of Transportation,” I lied. “I pushed back our meeting today and I wanted to send my apologies.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.” She turned her wrath on Reginald. “Is he telling the truth? Did he reschedule a meeting today?”
