“Your Highness,” he warned, “Robert will report back when he has news for you. But until then, you are to remain here.”
She leveled her deadliest stare at Michael. While it typically bounced off Robert, Michael wasn’t quite as immune to it. He held his ground, but Ele could see his discomfort. Ele didn’t feel the familiar stirrings of an impending attack, but her nerves bounced healthily.
Juliana tucked her feet under her and traded her beer for her phone. With everyone around her appearing calm, Ele was forced to push her panic down. She returned to her chair and tried to sit in a relaxed manner, but she was confident it looked like she had a steel rod stuck up her ass.
Juliana walked to where Ele sat and knelt down next to the chair. Holding out her phone, she scrolled through tweets from the game.
Fans on the field.
Women will do anything to get to T-Dav.
Look out, Rowan. Fans a-comin’.
Ele pointed to the last one. “Did someone think they were rhyming?”
Juliana laughed. “Well, both words end with an N.”
Ele laughed with her. Relieved, she relaxed for real and picked up her drink.
As Juliana stood, Ele grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Thanks.”
Juliana nodded.
When Robert entered the room, the fears Juliana had assuaged returned. Needing answers and assurances, she pulled him into the foyer.
“Is Jamie okay?”
“He’s fine. We have more men on him anyway. They don’t think the incident had anything to do with either team specifically. He’s going to stay for the remainder of the game. No need to worry.”
Ele nodded. She needed to know about Tristan also, but she didn’t know how to ask. It felt disloyal to be concerned about anyone other than her brother, her future king. She stood in front of Robert, fidgeting but reluctant to either leave or voice her question.
Robert watched her, brow raised, waiting. He could be a wanker sometimes.
“Anything else?” he asked, the picture of innocence.
She frowned and narrowed her eyes. “I still have influence with the queen, you know.”
Robert’s lips twitched. “Oh, the queen is safe too.”
Ele almost stomped her foot in frustration. But then Robert took pity on her.
“All of the players are safe.”
“Thank you,” she muttered. “I’m going to need to go out tonight.”
“It’s already on the schedule.”
16
3 July
Denver, Colorado
“Glass Slipper?”
Tristan’s head snapped up. Meeting Sheena’s gaze, he pretended ignorance. “Huh?”
Sheena was sprawled in the middle of the bed, two pillows shoved under her head. Her knees were bent, and her attention had returned to the phone in her hands. His phone.
“You just got a text from Glass Slipper.”
Tristan cursed silently. He punched his arm through his jacket, and then he dipped back into the bathroom, as if he’d forgotten to do something. Running the water for cover, he placed his hands on the counter and peered into the mirror. He should have been prepared to answer questions from his nosy sister. Should have had some ready excuses. But instead, he was speechless, a gaping guppy, with no snappy comeback, zero plausible explanations.
“Tris, come on!” Sheena yelled.
He turned off the faucet. He meandered back to the room and held out his hand for the phone.
“Does Glass Slipper have anything to do with the picture of you and the Ice Princess?”
“What the hell, Sheena?”
She tossed him his phone, and he snatched it out of the air.
“You really should change your password. I was shocked it’d worked.”
“Why are you looking through my phone?”
“I didn’t charge mine, and I couldn’t find your charger. I was bored.”
“Fine, surf the internet or Facebook or Insta, but why are you reading my shit?”
“I didn’t read anything. A text came through. I didn’t read it even though I really wanted to.” Her eyes cut away from him and then returned quickly. “But in the interest of full disclosure, I did scroll through your pictures. Thankfully, you didn’t have any inappropriate snaps.”
He shook his head. “Really, Sheena?”
She shrugged. “Guys do stupid things. Dick pics, et cetera.”
Tristan shook his head. “You’re cracked.” He picked up his ID and money clip, shoving them in his pocket. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t you want to read your text?”
“Shut up, Sheena.”
Sheena pushed him in the shoulder. He glared at her before he shoved her back. She flicked him in the ear.
“Why was I excited to see you?” he asked as he reached out and pulled a lock of her hair.
“You love me.”
“Not right at this moment. But, aye.” He held the door open for her. “Room 812,” he directed.
“Are you going to tell me?” Sheena asked.
“No.”
“You should have made something up,” she said thoughtfully. “Now, I know whatever it is you’re withholding is a big deal.”
“You know nothing,” he countered confidently.
If he showed weakness to his siblings, Sheena especially, it was like inviting the big bad wolf into your house. Big eyes, big ears, big, sharp teeth in a big, loud mouth.
“Mom loved the picture. She said—”
Tristan pulled up so abruptly that Sheena took several steps before she noticed. His face must have registered some horror because she walked back to him, looking contrite.
“You did not send that picture to Mom.” A statement.
Sheena’s perfectly tended eyebrows furrowed. “I did.”
“Sheena.” His voice was plaintive and whiny. “Bloody hell,” he swore. He leaned against the wall and hung his head. “What were you thinking?”
“Have you seen that picture of the two of you?”
He had. Over the last week, he’d studied it, smiling every single time. His chin resting on her shoulder, their heads tilted together, her ice-blue eyes sparkling, even in the dim light from the bonfire.
“It’s cute as hell,” she continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of her smiling, let alone on the verge of laughter. And you … you look like you were just awarded that trophy for the best footballer.”
“Ballon d’Or,” he responded absentmindedly.
“Right, that. I wasn’t thinking anything other than Mom would get a kick out of seeing it.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Ya know, if you posted that picture on your social media, the Ice Princess would have a whole new image.”
He grunted.
“I’m serious. No one could look at the two of you and think, She’s a stuck-up prig.”
Against his will, he smiled. He agreed with his sister. If the palace, if Ele, wanted to overhaul her image, it wouldn’t be hard. He couldn’t help thinking about Ele at the bonfire. She had been so open and carefree. Every time he’d stolen a glimpse of her, she was smiling. But he understood his lack of understanding also. He remembered her at St. Peter’s. The woman he’d met on that day was different than the woman he knew now.