“What’s wrong with you, Princess Ele?”
“Do you suffer from asthma?”
Tristan stormed through the throng at the same time Robert had had enough. Robert scooped her up and took off at a run with her in his arms. Tristan made to run after them, but Michael was right behind him. He pushed Tristan against the wall with his arm shoved up under his neck.
“You’ve done quite enough tonight, Mr. Davenport. Don’t make this any harder.”
Security poured into the hallway, dispersing the crowd. Tristan observed helplessly as people were directed back into the ballroom. Robert and Millie had disappeared with Ele, and Michael remained with Tristan.
“Get out of my way!”
Tristan looked over to see Sheena arguing with palace security.
“If you want to save another scene,” Tristan told Michael, “you might want to let my sister through.”
Michael nodded. He released Tristan, stepped away, and nodded to the man who was arguing with Sheena.
She walked to him and clasped his hand. “Rowan is outside with the car. Let’s go.”
Tristan looked to Michael. “Can I—”
“No,” he said before Tristan could make his request. “It’s best if you leave.”
“He’s right, Tris. We need to go.”
Tristan let himself be led through the maze of corridors. He never entered the ballroom again. He walked with a burgeoning sense of dread.
“She looked wrecked,” Sheena said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Eventually.”
She would, he knew, be okay. When the fervor died down and the headlines ceased. But until she dealt with the tragedy of her parents’ deaths, she wouldn’t truly heal.
“What about you, love?”
“You were right to worry,” he admitted.
He expected her to agree with him. Sheena loved nothing more than being right. But she merely squeezed his hand.
As they ducked into Rowan’s car, preparing to drive away, Tristan allowed himself one final glance at the palace. His warrior queen was in there, protected by walls and her security detail. And he was out here, wishing like hell he could be the one protecting her.
30
5 August
Shuffington Palace
Like a slow leak suddenly bursting open, Ele came awake. She’d lingered between sleep and wakefulness, in a semi-conscious awareness, lapping up streams of partial conversations, snatches of information.
“She is not going to like this, Your Highness.”
Millie was not a confrontational person. Ele couldn’t recall a time when Millie’s voice reached a pitch above normal. Except for now, with her whisper-hiss at Jamie.
Ele recognized the stress in Jamie’s tone. “It wasn’t solely my decision, Millie, but I agree with it nonetheless.”
“It’s not your decision to make, and she will not stand for it.”
Ele wondered, in her very clouded mind, what decision could make Millie angry. And while Millie was defending Ele, Ele could recognize the displeasure emanating from her assistant. She shifted on the bed, wanting to alert them to her presence. But even when she turned toward them, her eyes blinking in slow, pronounced ways, they remained locked in their battle.
“Millie!” Jamie had obviously had enough, and Ele braced.
When Jamie slipped into his crown prince speech, the one where he dared those around him to disagree, Ele feared the worst even though she couldn’t conjure up a worst in her present state.
His voice returned to a normal level. “Listen, there was a major breach of protocol that resulted in a resounding disaster.” His voice dropped another notch, and Ele found herself inching closer and straining to hear. “She’s getting crucified in the press. No one is showing a bit of mercy or fucking humanity. He didn’t protect her, Millie. Whatever his reasoning for allowing her to step into the fray, it cannot be tolerated. I know you know this. You are going to have to let this one go. Adopt the party line and help her with the transition.”
“What are you going on about?” Ele choked out. Her throat was raw and dry, hoarse from disuse.
Millie and Jamie jumped from surprise. Then, they rushed to her side. Jamie crouched down, so his eyes were level with hers. He reached up and pushed the hair away from her face, rubbing her forehead in comforting touches.
“Ele,” he sighed, worry creasing his forehead. His unshaven jaw and generally disheveled appearance spoke to a bedside vigil.
“How long have I been out?”
“Just since last night. They gave you a sedative.”
“Oh.”
“Feeling foggy?”
“Yes. That explains it then.” Ele leaned into Jamie’s hand, happy to soak up his concern and feel connected to something. “What are you and Millie bickering about?”
“Let’s get you some water, Ele,” Millie insisted. She moved to the bedside table and picked up a pitcher.
Ele could discern Millie’s movements, but she kept her eyes locked on Jamie. He always provided an anchor when she was adrift, and she needed him now more than ever. But as his gaze roamed the room, refusing to meet hers, she grew concerned.
“What?” she whispered.
Millie came around the other side of the bed and sat, helping Ele to a sitting position. She practically shoved the straw into Ele’s mouth.
“Drink,” she ordered. Then, as an afterthought, “But not too quickly.”
Ele straightened her sleep shirt and then gathered her hair and wound it around, so it was all on her right side. When she was ready, she leaned forward and took a few sips of water. It was silly, but everything was so out of control, and choosing when to drink seemed like one tiny little way to exert her power. The water soothed her scratchy throat. She relaxed back against the pillows. Her brain was wrapped in layers of cotton. Blinking her eyes to dislodge the fuzziness, she took another couple of sips. She wished she were more alert, but it wasn’t going to stop her from finding out what they were holding back.
“Now,” she said, thankful her voice had come out commanding and crisp, “what has you two out of sorts?”
Jamie was careful to keep his face neutral, but Ele recognized it for the mask it was.
“They’ve reassigned Robert,” Millie blurted out.
Ele gasped. And her heart squeezed. And then her hands curled in on themselves, fisting. Her eyes narrowed, and ire boiled in her stomach like a nasty, acid brew. “I beg your fucking pardon?” she snapped.
Jamie blinked in shock, his mask shriveling under the heat of her anger. He turned his gaze to her, and she saw the shock. But it was fleeting.
Like the monarch he’d trained his whole life to be, he rose up from his knees and loomed over Ele. “He left his post and allowed you to be exposed in the worst possible manner. The transfer has already occurred, and there is nothing you can do about it. While you and Millie are caught up in the personal nature of your relationship with him, let me relieve you of the burden of feeling guilty. Robert understood his dereliction of duty. He did not protest the reassignment. He acknowledged his mistakes, packed his bag, and boarded the plane this morning.”