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“Bishop?” That caught my attention. “He was a part of this?”
The interior of his eyes tightened. “He mentioned you’d met. Said it was…” Fitz stretched his jaw to the side as if to undo a knot, “hot.”
I rolled my eyes. “I almost set myself on fire between a jetlagged nap and the open hearth in the library. Bishop just showed up at the right time to put out the flames.”
The answer didn’t fully satisfy Fitz, not by a long shot. “He has this way about him, creating problems wherever he goes. If ever a snood was made real, it would be Bishop. Trickery and manipulation, that’s him.” Fitz rubbed his palm over his sleepy eyes. “You know, he even managed to coerce my mother into admitting that she’d entertained taking the throne for herself.”
I held my breath, realizing instantly why Bishop had pushed her. We didn’t know what was in the shipment, but if it had to do with the king’s mysterious sickness, and she happened to be lined up to rule… My heart twisted at the thought. Could his mother be that cruel? History said yes, but I ached to be wrong.
“Don’t fret, Coco.” Fitz sensed my distress but interpreted it incorrectly. “It doesn’t matter, I wasn’t going to send you home, not before I—“ Our eyes met again, and his voice trailed off as something sparked to life between us. “Hypothetically speaking…” a moment’s hesitation only increased the tension between us, “do you ever feel like my mother’s concerns are… relevant? About us, I mean.”
Fitz
Waiting for her answer felt as though I was waiting for either reciprocation or retaliation. I’d been watching my father try to build trust and goodwill between Nolcovia and other countries, and yet I’d never held my breath like I did as I searched her face for a response.
After all, her parted lips could mean she was gob smacked, totally taken aback by the question, even if I lacked the gumption to ask it outright. It could mean that she planned to wallop me upside the head for my backward thinking as well. Wide eyes, the sharp inhale of breath, it all held double meaning and gave me nothing to cling to as the seconds ticked painfully by.
“Hypothetically,” she pressed her lips together but only for a moment, “I’m not sure it matters, Fitz.”
“What if it matters to me?” Where had this bravery come from? I leaned forward, cutting the space between us. “What if I find it important, independent of the situation at hand?”
I sounded like a diplomat, dancing around the real topic, looking for information, but never confessing what I truly meant. I despised their cowardly ways, and yet I lacked enough courage to say it outright.
“But it won’t change anything, Fitz.” Her mouth tightened as if the vault was closing, secrets locked away forever. “As much as you want to say I’m a part of this competition, in reality, I can’t be. I’m not noble—“
“I made you noble the first night,” I corrected her.
“In ceremony,” Michaela stated. “I’m not a citizen. I’m American. Your parents would never approve. There are probably thirty laws about dating a foreigner, let alone marrying one.”
Her words conjured a vision in my mind. Coco dressed in white, a veil over her face, the crown perfectly perched as though it belonged. I had the dream not long after she’d arrived, but I forgot it until I was triggered. Was it possible?
“We’ve been friends for, well longer than I’ve been friends with anyone, really.” I didn’t like her tone, final and consolatory. “The idea of risking that… I mean, look at what happened between you and Gwen. You can hardly look at her anymore.” Pain pulled on her eyes. “I can’t lose you, Fitz.”
“You’re saying, then, we’re better as friends?” I couldn’t help the pang of hurt in my voice “You wouldn’t want to pursue it?”
“Want is the wrong word.” I recognized the way she’d dodged my true question. “What I want isn’t relevant right now. I’m here to help you pick a wife,“ her eyes closed as wrinkles appeared in her brow, “not become your wife.”
Regret seized in my chest for bringing it up in the first place. She was probably right. Too much of a risk to put our friendship on the altar in hopes that the sacrifice would yield the reward even with all that was in our way.
“But, to answer your question,” something in her voice gave me hope, “yes, I believe your mother has every right to be concerned about…” she motioned between us, “…this.”
Michaela
Why did I say that? I’d managed to hold it together. Smother out all my own feelings and give a truly logical answer. He was even buying it, and then I saw that puppy-dog look in his eyes, the same one I saw when he got cut from the high school baseball team, or the time Jaslyn Moore turned him down for a date, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
I had to fix this before it got out of hand.
“But,” I held up a finger to stall his runaway thoughts, “since we have determined I am not a viable answer, the question is: Who is on your short list?”
He frowned, not loving the way I’d shut him down. “I honestly don’t know. The only option that truly excites me as of late just turned on a bit of a cold shower.”
“A shower of logic, and you know it.” I pointed my finger at him like a disappointed schoolteacher, but he snatched it and kept hold, lacing our fingers. As my nerves threatened to rise, I swallowed back my racing heart and focused. “Blair? Sadie? Gwen?”
“Blair is interesting and challenging, but in a good way. Sadie intrigues me. Gwen is… comfortable.”
“Chantal?”
“Surprising,” he admitted quickly. “A side of her I never saw in our time together.”
