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I pushed the card back into the envelope, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know. I was hoping it was some cultural thing you could explain.”
She pulled a face. “No. I’m sorry, milady. I can ask the other maids if you’d like.”
“That’s okay.” I set my hand to her back to urge her to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I waited near the door after her exit, worried she might come back in with a new thought. It wasn’t unlike Dahlia to remember something and burst back inside. After two minutes had passed without interruption, I flipped the lock on the door and quickly changed into a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie. I hadn’t decided if I was going to meet Bishop or not, but if I did, I needed to be ready. I pulled out the card again and studied the message. The words made total sense if you knew that sliding the bronze frog on the bookshelf would open the secret passageway.
He couldn’t say it outright, but Fitz needed to see me. How long had Fitz been waiting while I dealt with bobbing fish heads and confessionals that meant nothing? I set my grip over the frog and shifted it hard to the right. The familiar click snapped into place and the hinges gave way. I snagged my small flashlight and slipped inside. To protect his family’s secret, I pulled the bookcase closed and latched the lock into place. Drawing in a deep breath to steady my nerves, I turned around.
“Took you long enough.”
I nearly hit the ceiling. If I hadn’t been so terrified that I couldn’t breathe, I would have screamed loud enough to wake the dead. My hand smashed against my chest as I tried to right my breathing.
“Dang it, Fitz! You could have killed me.” I smacked his arm repeatedly as he shied away. “You don’t sneak up on girls in secret hallways, don’t you know that?”
He caught one wrist and then the other in case I planned to switch. “There’s a law against beating royalty, don’t you know that?” Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss his wicked grin. “And it’s up to the royal victim to decide the punishment, so play nice before I give my ruling.”
“You,” I narrowed my eyes to look serious, “are entirely too entitled in this country.”
“That may be true, but it has its benefits, trust me.” Without adjusting his grip, he pulled me a couple steps closer, reminding me that we were alone in a very dark tunnel, far away from prying eyes and cameras that watched every move. He was a guy, and I was a girl, and only a matter of hours ago we’d nearly…
“Are you hungry?” His question brought me out of my thoughts. “Have you eaten?”
Thinking of that soup was better than any cold shower. Talk about a great way to kill the mood.
“No, it was fish head soup, which, by the way, I didn’t know existed until now.” I made a gagging sound and a grin curved over his cheeks until it danced in his eyes as well.
“It was that bad, huh?”
“It had eyes, Fitz.” I scrunched my nose. “It was watching me.”
“Nothing like judgmental food.” His teeth caught the edge of his lip. “I hate it too.”
“Well, every single one of your prospects gobbled it right down.” I shuddered, remembering how Dagny had named hers first.
“You didn’t.”
“Yeah, but I’m not…” my voice trailed off as his eyebrows came up, daring me to finish that sentence.
His thumb rubbed the interior of my wrist, reminding me that he still held both of my arms. “Do you know what I want, Coco?”
That’s the thing about foreign countries, because one second, I thought I knew what a word meant, like mad. But here in Nolcovia, it didn’t mean ticked off, it meant crazy. And staring into his eyes, I knew what that look meant in America. I had experience with that heated stare that led to racing pulses and gasps of breaths between fervid kisses, but for all I knew, in Nolcovia, it meant something else entirely.
“What?” The mousy whisper barely carried between us. “What do you want, Fitz?”
His eyes roamed over my face, memorizing every angle and curve like it was the last time he would ever see me. Slowly, his smile deepened as if he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share. I watched his lips, waiting for him to say the words.
“I want,” his gaze dipped to my lips before he gave his answer, “your mother’s pancakes.”
Huh? Of all the random…
“Don’t you have pancakes here?” What kind of backward countries didn’t have pancakes? The kind who made soup from garbage like fish heads, that’s who. Blech!
“The cooks make a version, but it doesn’t compare to your mother’s recipe.” He shifted another step closer, melting my reservations. “Do you know it?”
“Um...” Why was it so hard to think straight? “Yes, I have it memorized, but how will we…” I didn’t finish because Fitz had already started walking, one of my wrists still in his grasp.
“The kitchen, of course.” He nodded to the walls of the tunnel as we moved. “I can get anywhere in the palace using these passages. I was a regular menace as a lad. Turning up here, disappearing there, always at the stables when I wasn’t supposed to be. It drove my governess positively bonkers, but she never figured it out.”
