Tristan’s conversation with the crown prince came back to him. If Ele’s theory was correct, the prince had pushed them together for some reason other than his sister’s want. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers, the contrast of their skin color sharp. He hadn’t given any consideration to political machinations. He knew Rowan had probably analyzed this pairing from every angle and drawn conclusions. But Tris wasn’t open to hearing Rowan’s opinion on this. If there was something else at play here, he didn’t care.
The lightheartedness of the game faded, the mood between them introspective. Tristan wanted her to remember this day with fond memories of fun. He released her hand and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head, the abrasiveness of the hat making him laugh.
“We’ve got some time. Wanna shake things up a bit?” A picture of an angry Robert flashed, but Tristan was determined to see this through.
“What are you thinking?”
“Navy Pier?”
Her face lit up with a brilliant smile.
Without another thought, he glanced around for a cab. Locating one back by the stadium, they changed directions. Scurrying inside the car, Tristan had no idea if Robert was behind them or how he would react to this. He imagined finding out one of Robert’s three hundred sixty ways to kill. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was giving Ele an afternoon free of motives and panic attacks and duty. All that mattered was inspiring another radiant smile and giving her a memory to pull up later, like a picture on a phone, to savor and enjoy.
22
11 July
Chicago
Although the queen had dispatched all of her grandchildren to America for the World Championship Cup, she didn’t miss the opportunity to capitalize on the patriotic fever engulfing the nation with each successive victory. Big screens were erected in populous squares throughout the country to encourage communal viewing. At a time of discord and uncertainty in Federacion de Estados Insulares, having a singular purpose brought reluctant solidarity. There were rumors that the queen had reached out to Sir Nicolas Ramsey with warm congratulations and solicitous words. Many of these stories Jamie corroborated when he spoke with Ele on the eve of the semifinal match.
“She also wants me to personally deliver a good-luck message to the gaffer, as if he has nothing better to do than entertain the crown prince the day of one of the biggest matches of his life.”
Ele had just managed to hold in her laughter. Jamie’s righteous edge of anger was unusual for him, and it was nice to be the one soothing for once.
“What is that supposed to look like?” Ele asked.
“Hell if I know. I’m sure he’ll be very open to an appearance from me. That woman, sometimes.”
Ele could hear the frustration in his voice, but it was out of character and out of proportion. “Can’t you just call him and wish him luck?”
“She wants it photographed. Wants the country to know we are fully supportive of the team’s endeavors. It’s helping—you know, having a single purpose to unite the country. The independence vote is still out there, like a guillotine poised to slice the head from the neck, but right now, it seems like the executor is holding on to the controls. We need to give the people what we can in the way of hope and togetherness.”
“Aren’t there press conferences before every match? Just tack it on to the front or the end of it, so he’s already in the public mindset.”
Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. “She just doesn’t understand how much goes into coaching. Right? She just expects that if it isn’t governing, work is easy and without hardship.”
Ele was surprised by Jamie’s reluctance to comply with the queen’s wishes. As he was a lifelong football fan, meeting with one of the greats should have been desirable.
Before she could figure out what she was doing, she said, “I’ll go with you if you want me to.”
Jamie’s eyes widened, but he quickly hid any shock. “I would appreciate that,” he said instead. “Let me get with Will and Robert, and we’ll figure it out.”
And that was how Ele arrived in the media center hours before the game, with Jamie by her side, waiting for Nico Ramsey. Jamie was uncharacteristically fidgety, pacing the length of the room. Ele watched him, curious about his behavior. She exchanged a look with Robert, and a moment later, he and Will stepped outside of the room.
Ele leaned her hip against the table already set for the press conference. Behind her hung the World Championship Cup drape, littered with logos. Jamie made a pass in front of her, and she reached out a hand to stop him. He drew up short and lifted his head, a look of confusion on his face.
Ele’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
His mouth quirked on the right side, a tiny glint of his familiar smile. “I think I might be nervous.”
Ele tucked the corner of her mouth in between her teeth, holding back a grin. “Seriously?” She wanted to point out Jamie had met kings and queens, presidents, managed quarterly meetings with the prime minister, and presented before the United Nations. But instead, she asked, “Haven’t you already met him?”
“I have.”
He didn’t offer any other explanation, and as a person who didn’t appreciate being pushed for information, she refrained from saying anything else.
“Do you have the pin?”
Jamie tapped his pocket. “I do.”
Two knocks sounded on the door, indicating the brief photo shoot was about to begin. Jamie and Ele ducked into an adjacent room, next to the dais. The door to the press room must have opened because the noise level rose as the press filtered in. The low din hit a crescendo, indicating Sir Nicolas had entered. There were questions and the familiar clicking of a collection of cameras.
With each distinctive wave of sound, Ele’s anxiety rose infinitesimally. But this wasn’t her appearance, so she was able to squash it. Still, being in the same public place as Jamie brought its own set of concerns.
When another tap sounded on the door, Jamie took an audible breath. Ele followed him to the door but waited in the room. With Will and Robert standing sentinel in front of the jamb, she was able to peek through the small space between them to watch.
Jamie climbed up on the dais as Nico stood. They shook, and Jamie reached with his opposite hand to clasp Nico’s arm. The words between them weren’t for public consumption, but their heads were bowed, close. The snick, snick, snick of flashes resounded in the room. They painted a picture of contrasts, and Ele knew immediately the photos would be plastered on the covers of newspapers and magazines all over the world.
They separated as Jamie reached into his pocket to retrieve the pin. The platinum trinket boasted their coat of arms, a symbol now synonymous with their country. Jamie said something, and Nico’s head tilted back as he laughed. The motion made his eyes crinkle and dimples pop on his cheeks. Nico held out his hand, and Jamie dropped the pin onto his outstretched palm. Nico’s fingers closed around it. He slid it into his pocket before he and Jamie turned and posed for one final picture. They left the stage together, Jamie ducking into the gap made for him between Will and Robert and Nico walking behind the drape for the opposite exit.