“I went to Rowan’s room to explain to him what had prompted”—she fidgeted in her seat, smoothing her hands along her thighs—“the kiss.”
Tristan didn’t fight his smile. As pissed off as Rowan was about what had happened and as complicated as it made his life, that kiss was hot. It would forever be fodder against Rowan, but Tristan snickered when he thought about it.
“I’m sure it was uncomfortable to find me in his room.”
Tristan had thought he covered his disorientation well, but based on Ele explaining herself, he hadn’t quite pulled it off. He wasn’t jealous. Mostly. Seeing Ele taking steps to be more independent made him experience this stupid rush of pride. But finding her in his best mate’s room hadn’t exactly been expected or comfortable.
“It was fine. I’d trust Rowan with my life.”
Her brow knit. “But not me?”
“We’re getting there,” he answered truthfully.
“Fair.” Ele shifted, pulling one leg up on the sofa so she faced him more fully. “I explained my panic attacks to Rowan and told him Juliana kissed him to pull the attention off of me.”
“Well done, E.” His grin was wide and unfettered.
This was big for her. To approach someone she didn’t know. To put her insecurities before that person. Two months ago, Ele’s inner circle had been a tiny microcosm; to Tristan, it seemed to be expanding.
“That must have been difficult for you, but Rowan will guard your secret and maybe forgive Juliana. Eventually.”
She laughed somewhat humorlessly. “He’s a tough crowd,” she admitted.
“Aye. But when you get him, he’ll have your back forever.”
“No chance of that then,” she quipped.
“Went bad?” He wasn’t too concerned.
It had taken him forever to win Rowan over. And he was sure Rowan had wanted to hit him more times than he could count their first year.
“Worse than,” she confirmed.
“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugged.
Tristan didn’t spend any time worrying about whether or not someone liked him. They either did or they didn’t. But he understood Ele didn’t open herself up to many people, so dealing with Rowan must have been daunting.
“I watched the press conference earlier today.”
Tristan reared back in surprise. “Really? Why?”
“It’s something we do. Like a hospital morbidity and mortality conference. Have to get to the bottom of what deadly mistakes we made.” It was delivered frankly, but he could sense the sarcasm underneath.
While Juliana might have been the focus today, Tristan imagined Ele had been in the spotlight plenty.
“That sucks. If I had to watch every time I said something off script with the press, I’d spend a lot of my time in—what did you call that?”
“Morbidity and mortality. We call it M and M, and we usually do it with wine. But not today. Today was undertaken stone-cold sober.”
She looked away from him, and he wondered what about today had most bothered her.
“After that, I had to speak to the queen and Jamie. It’s been a long day.”
“What happened?”
“Before I came to the States, the queen met with me. She told me if anything happened with Juliana, I would be responsible. I didn’t want her to get the opportunity to order me home, so I trumped her and struck first.”
“Did you get what you wanted?”
“I did.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her gaze returned to his, and she smiled. She liked the comment; he could tell.
“I didn’t come here to rehash today.”
“Okay. I can think of more fun things to do.” He smirked.
She shot him a goofy grin. She pushed up to her knees and shuffled forward, coming to stop between his legs. Resting her hands on his thighs, she leaned forward and kissed him, quick and intimate. Squeezing his thighs, she backed away and came to rest on the opposite side of the love seat. He warily watched her.
“I was with my parents in Caldonia. We’d been on a goodwill mission for three weeks. It was my first time away with them. Jamie had completed his first trip the year before, and then it was my turn. They’d sat with us the year we turned sixteen and mapped out their plan for bringing us into the fold. We were obviously familiar with life at home, at the palace, with the government. We’d been quizzed on domestic policy as part of our studies since we began primary school. But foreign policy was something we were to learn as adolescents and young adults.”
Tristan tried not to breathe too heavily, even as he realized the import of this conversation. He didn’t want to spook her, but he wanted so badly to pull her into his arms that he had to restrain himself. Fighting against his impulses—not a strength.
“I digress.” She sighed, her hands restlessly rubbed up and down her thighs.
He found himself hypnotized by the movement. Her long, delicate fingers smoothing along her legs.
“We were scheduled for an appearance. I’m actually not even sure where we were supposed to be,” she mused, obviously lost in the memory. “Funny, I thought everything about that day was indelibly etched into my brain.” She shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. “But the day before, my father told me there had been a change in the itinerary. The consulate didn’t think we should go to the place we were scheduled.” She bowed her head, rubbing her hand along her forehead. “I can’t believe I don’t remember where we were supposed to be,” she murmured so quietly that Tristan knew she was speaking to herself. Shaking her head, she looked up. “But the change had come from our own government, so there was no concern. In fact, I remember Father confirming with the palace.”
“Schedules.”
“Right, schedules are important to me now.”
Her hands made another track down her legs, and he moved. He stepped down and walked toward her. He scooped her up into his arms before he sat with her on his lap. One of her hands automatically landed on the back of his neck, and he took hold of the other one. She gazed up at him and smiled gratefully.
“As you know, my parents were assassinated that day. What no one knows is that it happened right in front of me and that the terrorist group who killed them held me captive for three days.” Her eyes looked beyond him now, like she had suddenly left him in the room with her body while her mind was lost in the memory. “I don’t know many details. They say you get a surge of adrenaline in emergency situations, that your instincts just kick in. Only one of my parents’ security guards, Joe, survived the attack. What I know is from his account.”
Tristan thought of the folder in his safe for the hundredth time since Robert had given it to him. Could Robert and Jamie know more than Ele? For the first time, he wished he’d read it instead of waiting for her to tell him.
“I was in the car with them. But in a teenage act of rebellion, I hadn’t worn the hat I was supposed to wear with my outfit. I thought if I just showed up right before we were due to leave, I would get away with it. But my mother sent me and Joe back to the room. We were leaving the lobby; I was literally five steps away from the Rover when it blew. I was thrown back. I couldn’t hear and was disorientated. I remember that part. But when the men came to shoot my parents as insurance, they noticed me. No one knows why they didn’t just shoot me. But they didn’t. They put me in the back of their van and held me in a basement.