“Everyone around here was mourning the loss of the future king, and I just wanted my sister back. When they found her and rescued her, I was so relieved. But of course, she wasn’t the same. My Ele, the other half of me, the brave one who had propped me up and made me more than I really was, she didn’t come back.” Jamie looked away, his face contorted with pain and sorrow.
“She had nightmares for two straight years. When she conquered those—on her own, of course—the panic attacks started. She’s been a virtual prisoner for years. And Robert, it’s like his fate was tied to hers. Neither one of them could move forward because part of moving forward would mean letting each other go.”
Things began to click in Tristan’s mind; things he didn’t want to know or acknowledge tried to fit themselves together like an amorphous shape. He wasn’t sure what had tipped him off, but he knew, absolutely, that Jamie was involved. “You orchestrated the whole thing.”
Jamie’s lips compressed into a hard line. The sorrow Tristan had glimpsed earlier disappeared. There was a hardness there instead, a force of will Tristan thought befitting of a future king but not quite the thing for a doting brother.
“That’s cold, Your Highness,” Tristan said.
The prince’s shoulders moved up, a half-shrug of indifference. “A means to an end.”
“Messing with people’s lives—there’s no excuse.”
“Do you think anything would have changed? Did you actually imagine Ele would be with you, in public?”
Inwardly, Tristan flinched, remembering his last conversation with Ele. The hurt and frustration he’d experienced when she suggested secretly dating still simmered. Jamie couldn’t have known the direction of their conversation, but her twin definitely knew Ele pretty well.
“She needs to move forward. She needs to heal, and she wouldn’t have done that here, with Robert around, always protecting her.”
“You underestimate your sister.”
“I have never underestimated her. Not when she was missing, not when she came home, not the times she was curled up in a ball after a bad panic attack. I might have miscalculated, but I have never thought her weak.”
Tristan’s head tilted in interest. “Miscalculated? You mean, you thought she would forgive you for getting rid of Robert and then do what you had deemed fit for her to ‘get better’?” He made sure to use finger quotes, taking perverse pleasure in seeing Jamie squirm a bit.
“Maybe.”
“So, where is she? How is she?”
Jamie cleared his throat and blinked. Pushing his hand through his hair, he said, “She’s safe.”
“You don’t know how to contact her and Robert isn’t with her and you’re worried,” Tristan surmised.
Jamie’s bravado faded a tiny bit. “Millie knows how to contact her, and if I wanted to, I could force the issue.”
“Your motivation might have been pure, but your execution sucked. Ele will be fine; I have no doubt of that. But don’t be surprised if she doesn’t forgive you.”
“I don’t need her to forgive me. I just need for her to get better, to live.” The earnestness in his expression eased some of Tristan’s discomfort. “And what do you need, Mr. Davenport? What is it you want from my sister?”
Gulp.
He wanted all sorts of things. Time with her. Safety for her. Kissing. Coffee. Holding hands. Coming home to her after a game. Laughing with her. Hanging out with her and Sheena. Introducing her to his friends. Forever.
“More importantly, what are you willing to give up for her?” Jamie asked into the silence.
“What do you mean?”
Jamie pushed away from the wall. As if sensing it was time, the elevator door magically opened. “What I mean is, I understand your concern. I even admire your tactics. But let’s be honest; you are no ordinary boy, and she is no ordinary girl. If you decide to reach out to Ele, make sure you know what you want and, more importantly, what you are willing to give up to be with her. If you’re not sure or if this is some whim, I beg you to let her go.”
Will appeared at the opening, and Jamie ambled out. Just as he crossed the threshold, he flicked something in Tristan’s direction. Snatching it out of the air, Tristan held it in front of his face. A phone number was engraved in gold on a thick parchment business card.
Momentarily elated, Tristan took note of the ten digits. American.
Then, all the prince’s warnings and evasions and conflicting messages bombarded him. The elevator doors slid closed, and Tristan was left wondering what the hell he should do.
32
9 September
Chicago
Ele arranged the tablet for her daily Skype chat with Millie. The predictability of the call provided some semblance of her old life, the one ruled by minute-by-minute obligations and duties. Ele knew the queen could locate her and call her home at any time. Part of her lived in nervous anticipation of the palace’s intent, but the other side of her was learning to let go of the things she couldn’t control. For whatever reason, her family had allowed her to run away and to stay hidden. They were smart enough to know it served the country’s purpose to leave her be, so she was determined to take advantage of the time. And she’d been doing that.
With Millie’s meticulous research, they’d secured a counselor who specialized in anxiety disorders and PTSD. Every time Ele left a session, she was exhausted and wrung out. For the first time in years, she’d relived that fateful day from start to finish. Snapshots of her parents flooded her mind, and she feared the nightmares would start again. But instead, the weight of her sorrow and fear began to lift. It happened over weeks, so every day, she breathed a little easier. Her hypervigilance slowly succumbed to a more natural awareness of her surroundings. She took small risks. Her first was an unplanned trip to the grocery store, a block from her rented apartment. It seemed stupid to take such pride in the short walk, but in the last twelve years, aside from her time with Tristan, she hadn’t gone anywhere without at least twenty-four-hour advance notice. After that first foray into normalcy, the excursions had come easier, and the nervousness had seemed to fade quicker.
The apartment oasis where she lived gave her a safe place to decompress. Although smaller than her suite of rooms at home, it opened up to a little garden where Ele found herself spending a lot of time. With the cooperating weather, she would sip her coffee or tea and lose herself in the sounds of the city. At least once a day, she thought of Robert’s reaction if he knew she was living in a ground-floor apartment in a major city.
Missing her people was the only notable downside to her temporary life. Before she had come to Chicago, Ele had considered her circle of trust to be bought and paid for. Millie, Robert, and Michael were with her almost every waking minute of every day, and she trusted them with her life. She also had Beatrix, whose quirky outlook often provided Ele with some lightness. But they were her employees, and she was always aware of their obligations to her. Being away from everyone provided some perspective. Millie had set up a dummy email account for Ele. Every day, Michael and Beatrix emailed her—checking in, sharing funny stories they knew she would appreciate, and generally telling her they cared for her, even when they weren’t caring for her. The friendship they offered made her realize they were her village, no matter how they had come to be there.