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Giving her up… Could I do it?
“You’ve done your job.” I signaled with my hand, knowing he’d see. Sure enough, Kabir stepped from his hiding place and into the light. He was the one who alerted me to their rendezvous, and I was deeply grateful he could help me escape this moment. Without looking away from her, I issued my command, “Please escort Lady Michaela to her quarters. I believe she was sleepwalking.”
I turned and started for the palace again, desperate for space between us. I was nearly to the door before I heard a sound that ripped my heart in half.
A single sob.
The sure sound of her heart breaking too.
You won’t choose me? Echoed through my thoughts, forcing me to face the truth of what she really meant. But the truth was, in the end, I couldn’t choose her.
Letting her go was the only choice left.
Fitz
After a fitful night of sleep, the last thing I needed was an early wake-up call. My solo date wasn’t supposed to happen until the afternoon, and I had planned to take advantage of the quiet until then. Instead, I threw back the blankets and stalked to the door, ready to give my intruder an earful. Ripping open the door, I glared at Tom. But he simply smiled in return.
“Oh, good. You’re up. We need to talk.” He pushed inside without asking, leaving me to stare after him as he carried a stack of folders to the table. “We got a call today.”
I let the door fall shut, instantly suspicious. “What kind of call?”
“The kind that changes everything.” He pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket and perched them on his nose before he started shifting though the stacks of papers. “We aired that bit with you and Michaela from the snow day. The views smashed all other records we’d set, but more than that, the videos went viral.”
“And that’s good?”
“If you want Nolcovia to step up to the international table with everyone else, then yes.” Tom stared at me over the top of his glasses. “American networks called. They want to air the rest of Royally… Yours in their country. They’re absolutely floored by Michaela. She’s a gold mine for you.”
All because of one snowball fight?
“Sorry, no. I’ve decided I’m sending her home tonight.”
“You can’t.” It wasn’t a request; it was a definitive answer.
Did he realize who he was talking to? This wasn’t about ratings or even international connections. This was my life.
“I won’t keep her.” I spoke with the conviction of a king issuing a command. This was nonnegotiable. I’d made up my mind.
Tom removed his glasses, clearly exasperated. “You’re giving up a huge opportunity.”
Anger sliced through my chest at the idea of being forced to comply. I was the Crown Prince. Since when had everyone forgotten what that meant?
“All I’m saying,” Tom handed me a sheet of paper, “is think about it first. I’m not asking you to marry her, just keep her around until the top three.”
I glanced over the projections on the paper. He wasn’t kidding. Thousands of viewers from other countries had become invested the second they saw my interaction with Michaela.
“You told me,” Tom spoke slowly, “you wanted to change this country and bring it out of the Dark Ages.” He tapped his finger against the page. “She’s your ticket.”
Michaela
The whole day felt like a waste. Too much worry. Too much introspection.
I didn’t regret spying on the queen because I still wasn’t sure how I felt about her. We never checked the other crates. Maybe there were answers in them.
Or maybe there was twenty-five pounds of birdseed.
I would never know. And Fitz wasn’t willing to listen.
“Milady,” Dahlia snapped her fingers in my face, “are you sure about the blue dress? I think the lavender one is warmer.”
