Page 4 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

“It’s distinctive.”

“Made by a perfumier in Ardavela.” Her sigh is quiet, resigned. “Found out by cedarwood and orange blossom.”

“Why did you come?”

She gives me a slight smile. “As you’ve said on several occasions, I like to do what I want when I want.”

An answer I expected. But as I watch my client, I notice the subtle signs that tell me there’s something more going on than a spoiled royal wanting her own way. A slight strain about her mouth, tension in the tendons of her neck, the tight clasp of her hands.

“The real reason, Your Highness.”

She blinks as if surprised. Then, slowly, she looks away, drifts toward the balcony doors as if she’s moving through water. She stops in front of the glass doors, sapphire fabric trailing behind her. “Freedom.”

The word hangs in the air between us as the emotion in that one word hits me hard. Gone is the aloof royal. Now she’s simply a woman sharing something I never expected her to share.

She crosses her arms, her gaze still trained on the ancient city just outside the window. “I lead a privileged life, Mr. Hawke. Blessed, some might say.” She breathes in, the motion making her chest rise and fall. “But a cage is still a cage, no matter how gilded.”

Before I can respond, the doors slide open behind me. I spin around, my hand going for the gun secured in my shoulder harness beneath my tuxedo jacket.

A woman stands in the door, her skin pale and her eyes unfocused. She walks in with stumbling steps as I advance toward her, placing myself between her and Sophaya. “Can I help you?”

“I…” Her face twists into an expression of pain. “I’m sorry. I thought…” She starts to stumble.

Before I can reach out, Sophaya brushes past me and wraps an arm around the woman’s shoulders.

“Your…” I cut myself off before I say Sophaya’s title out loud. “Let me help her.”

“I can help, too.” Sophaya doesn’t even glance at me as she takes on the burden of the woman’s weight and helps her to one of the couches.

I move to the woman’s other side and take hold of her arm. Her skin is clammy, her face flushed.

“What’s your name?” Sophaya asks quietly.

“Maryanne.” The woman shivers as we ease her onto a couch. “I’m so sorry. I thought my boyfriend was in here and…” She stops speaking and swallows hard.

Sophaya glances at me. “Is there a doctor here?”

I nod and pull out my phone. Aiden answers on the second ring.

As we speak, Sophaya talks quietly with Maryanne, then begins examining her. Her movements are confident, assured. She checks Maryanne’s eyes and mouth, then gently presses her fingers under Maryanne’s jaw, her lips moving as she counts heartbeats.

A memory tugs at me. The bio I had written up about her life before her brother’s abdication. She went through medical training during school, including a nursing assistant program before she graduated from upper secondary school, and then a paramedic program before she enrolled in college. There had been photos in her file of her touring hospitals, helping out at a clinic. I’d assumed it had all been a PR stunt, something to make her relatable to the people.

I hang up. “Doctor’s on his way.”

“Okay.” Sophaya glances up at me. “My first guess is food poisoning.”

Maryanne groans. “Lunch. I thought my clams tasted off.”

“Seafood is a common source of food poisoning.” Sophaya glances over her shoulder. “Mr. Hawke, would you bring me that pitcher of water?”

I grab the pitcher and bring it to her.

Sophaya takes it and dips the end of one of the long pieces of fabric trailing down from her sleeves into the water. She wrings it out, then gently sits on the couch next to Maryanne before laying the wet material of what I’m assuming is a very expensive couture gown over Maryanne’s forehead.

Maryanne lets out a shuddering sigh. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”