I smirk at him. “I have never been known to stir up trouble, as fun as that sounds.” No, if I were to begin a relationship with Elliot, I would do it fully knowing the consequences of my choice. Prepared to pay for them, whatever the price may be.
As it stands, Candoran law prevents a monarch from marrying a non-citizen in order to protect the country from foreign influence. Gaining Candoran citizenship takes time, and as proven by today’s near-catastrophe, the longer I remain single and childless, the more vulnerable the throne will be, so time is not on my side. If I had met Elliot years ago, before my mother ever announced her retirement, we might have had a chance to convince the people to love him as I am coming to.
But that is not reality.
Perhaps marrying Grimstad is not as selfless as I first thought, but it is impossible to see a relationship with Elliot as anythingbutselfish. Are these my choices? Give up my own happiness for the sake of my people, or betray my people for the sake of my happiness? Why must it be one or the other?
Still stroking Elliot’s hair, I look down at the soldier and imagine this being my life. Not the gunshot wound or holing up in a rundown cabin in the woods, obviously. But having Elliot close to me. Kissing him. Trusting him with my thoughts and my heart.
Building a family with him.
My body warms at the thought, but guilt builds too. I was born to privilege, and with that comes responsibility. I have made many promises throughout my campaign, things I truly believe in, and I would never forgive myself if I did not follow through.
“Can someone like me be allowed to choose love?” I am not really asking Wulfric. No Candoran monarch has ever married this far beneath them, and even choosing Markham would go against tradition. But at least he is Candoran. And known by the people.
In reality, neither Markham nor Elliot are beneath me. Not where it matters. They are good men, with so much potential, and they should have every opportunity for a life of greatness. Markham will find that no matter what I choose; he has the ambition and the confidence to get whatever he wants. But Elliot?Just a kid from Montana.He is so much more than that, even if he cannot see it himself. He is not Candoran and has no title, but I fear he will soon have my entire heart.
If only that could be enough.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elliot
“Ifsomeonehadn’talreadytried it, I would kill you, Elliot.”
I know Sander is serious, but I can’t help but smirk at him as he paces the length of Wulfric’s cabin. I’ve been awake for less than ten minutes, jarred from a deep sleep by the arrival of a veritable army of palace guards and police, as well as two anxiety-ridden princes. But my mind is still fuzzy, my body is exhausted, and I don’t have it in me to match the man’s energy.
Besides, my head is full of dreams about Freya’s lips and the way she kisses with confidence and authority, turning it into a competition in the best way. I’m not in the mood to be threatened when I would much rather take Hex’s place on the other side of the cabin, with Freya in his arms and her head on hisshoulder.
“Relax,” I mumble, wishing I could have slept for more than an hour or two. “I’m fine.”
Sander stops mid-stride and narrows his eyes at me. “You have a hole in the middle of your body. You are not fine.”
I look down at the fresh bandage placed on my torso by a Skalridge doctor who came with the entourage. He wasn’t thrilled by Wulfric’s rudimentary stitches but declared them passable enough until I can get to a hospital. “Technically, it’s on my right—”
“You should have told me, El.” Sander’s voice breaks for the first time since I met the guy, and he slowly sinks into a chair like his strength has left him. I’ve never seen him like this. “You could have died, and I would have lost one of my best friends.”
Okay, I can be serious for a second. Though I’m tempted to stay on the bed and never move again, I sit up and wait until he looks at me. “As long as I’m in this job, there’s always going to be that danger, San. I’ve been through worse, trust me.”
“Because that makes me feel better,” he grumbles back.
“I didn’t tell you I was wounded because I needed you to stay safe. You’re more important than me.”
He doesn’t like that, his miserable expression shifting into a scowl that drops the temperature of the room. He mutters something in Candoran, too quick and low for me to understand him, but I doubt it’s anything good.
My eyes flit over to Freya for the millionth time since the twins arrived with their little army, all of whom have been kind enough to stay outside and watch the perimeter while Wulfric shouts at them to not tromp all over his bellflowers. The princess, tucked in the safety of her brother’s hold, has her eyes closed and looks like she could be asleep if not for the little smile on her lips.
Lips that I want to taste again.
She was still on the bed with me when Hex and Sander stormed inside in what I assume was a poorly planned rescue, and despite the chaos around us, she spent a long few seconds looking down at me, her fingers brushing my face with a featherlight touch that left me shivering.
As if she feels my gaze, Freya opens her eyes and smiles weakly at me. My body reacts to that smile with a longing that I won’t be able to ignore as easily as I did before. Not now that I know the feel of her hands in my hair and on my skin. Now that I know how she tastes.
“Tell me everything you know,” I say to Sander, my voice strained. I need a distraction before I march over to the princess and pull her into my arms.
Sander glances between me and his sister with his eyes full of suspicion, but it’s not like he doesn’t already know how I feel about Freya. There’s a reason I sat with Freya during the ride to Skalridge to give the twins a break from me; Sander and Hex have been subjected to my frustration with the situation more than they likely wanted. I couldn’t admit anything about my feelings to Freya, so I admitted it all to them, hoping they would have advice.
They didn’t. Mostly they teased me about liking their uptight and significantly older sister.
