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“Your mom’s fine,” Rhea adds. “She had a fall, but she’s doing okay. She’s in the hospital recovering right now. Her arm is broken.”
“Surgery?” My voice is small.
“The doctors said she won’t need it.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow. Can you tell Mom I’ll be there?”
“Of course. Hey, Jazz?”
“Yeah?” I say, just holding back my tears.
“She’s going to be fine. She’s just asking about you every time she wakes up. But she’ll be fine.”
I take a shaky breath, thank Rhea, and hang up the phone. Along with being inside out, my shirt is also on backward, the tag tickling the bottom of my chin. Turning slowly, I face the Prince.
I don’t even have the energy to think about what we were just doing—how close we were to doing even more. If Rhea hadn’t called, I would have… I can’t think of that right now. Gulping, I lift my eyes to look at Silas’s.
He’s on the phone, half-turned toward the window as he speaks quietly. Sensing my gaze, he says a few quiet words and hangs up before facing me. “The jet will be ready in an hour. You can be in Nord by four o’clock tomorrow morning.”
I gape. “What?”
“It’s your mother, right?” He nods toward the phone still gripped tightly between my fingers.
“Yeah.”
“The jet will be the quickest way to get you home. Otherwise you’ll have to wait for commercial airlines to open tomorrow morning before you can get on a flight, which means you won’t be landing until the afternoon at the earliest.”
“Silas…”
“Look, Jazz, I don’t want to hear about your reputation or how it will look to arrive in Nord on the royal jet.” He walks over to me, sliding his hand over my cheek. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. “I admire you and your convictions more than I can say, but I won’t let you say no to this. Please let me help you.”
Within seconds, I’m a blubbering fool. I snort and cry and make horrible, unattractive noises as Silas pulls me into his arms. Clinging onto his broad frame, I let him hold me. Let him rub his arms over my back. I let him take care of me.
It feels good to not be alone when I get news like that. It feels even better to let him take control and send me home.
Silas’s hand runs over my back in slow, large circles. “I’ve asked for discretion from the crew, so they won’t be announcing the arrival of the jet. There will be a car ready to take you wherever you need to go. Is your mother okay?”
I nod, my cheek rubbing against his shirt. “Rhea—my friend—says she’s fine. Broken arm. She gets confused, though. She’s got Parkinson’s. Rhea said she’s been asking about me. Her condition’s been getting worse, and any time something out of the ordinary happens it seems to send her spiraling. I shouldn’t have come on this tour. She’s not used to me being gone for long periods of time.”
“You’ll be back within hours.” He pulls away from me, cupping my cheeks in his hands. Bringing his lips to mine, the Prince kisses me gently, then steps away. “I’ll give you privacy to pack your things, and I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
When he walks out of my hotel room, I drop my head into my hands. I inhale through my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to wade through the mess in my mind.
I should probably refuse the Prince’s help, because if someone sees me come back to Nord on my own on the royal jet, they’ll cry scandal. But he’s right. It’ll take ages for me to get back on a commercial flight, and I don’t want to leave my mother on her own for any longer than I need to. I know Rhea said she was fine, but I just…I need to be there.
So, squaring my shoulders, I start packing. I throw all my things in my small bag, then look at the red velvet dress that I laid on the bed earlier. Zipping it up in its garment bag, I sling the dress over my arm, take a deep breath, and head downstairs.
It takes a few minutes to check out of the hotel, then I walk toward the Prince, who’s waiting for me on one of the armchairs in the hotel lobby. He stands when I approach, then gestures toward the door. There’s a black, tinted-windowed car waiting for us, with a man in a crisp uniform waiting by the open back door. I hand him my luggage.
My hair is still wet from my shower, and it feels cold in the fresh air outside. I should have worn a hat.
When I slide into the back seat, Silas places his hand over my thigh, and I find myself leaning over to rest my head on his shoulder. I know, I know. I should keep my distance. I should be the voice to tear down the monarchy. I should refuse this help and keep my distance.
But…I’m tired. And worried. And emotional. I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me. Never had a man take charge and take care of me when I needed it most while asking for nothing in return.
“Will you give the dress back to Nathaniel Hawke for me?” I ask softly, eyes closed as I rest my hand on the Prince’s shoulder.
His hand squeezes my thigh. “Keep it.”
