Meg forced a smile of her own. “I’d like that a lot.” She glanced over her shoulder at Alys, her own personal babysitter. The woman’s official title was secretary, but they both knew the truth. “Alys, how does my schedule look tomorrow?” She didn’tthinkthere was anything, but she’d been wrong before.
Alys checked her ever-present tablet. “You’re clear from two to three.”
That’s it?It took everything she had not to wilt at the words. Meg turned back to Noemi. “How does that sound?”
“Wonderful. I look forward to it.” Noemi swooped down—at nearly six feet tall, she towered over Meg’s five feet, seven inches—and pressed two more air kisses to her cheeks. “Have a good evening, Consort.”
“You, too.”
Meg resumed her course, careful to keep her chin up and her stride steady. God forbid she give into the urge to sprint through the halls to the relative safety of the private suite she shared with Galen and Theo. She followed Alys’s quiet directions until they turned down a hallway Meg actually recognized. Bright, happy paintings clustered the walls, the sight of them making her smile despite herself. They had been acquired by Theo’s mother years ago, right after she’d married his father and become Queen of Thalania. Theo had them moved to this hall the week after his coronation, a reminder of the woman who’d been so important to him.
Some days, Meg spent nearly an hour staring into the paintings, trying to reach back through time to the woman who’d picked them. They were such a random collection, their origins spanning multiple decades and many styles. The only real connection was the buoyancy in her chest when she allowed herself to spend time in this space. Did Theo’s mother pick thembecause she was happy and wanted pieces to reflect that? Or were they her only bright spot in the stress that came from being with the most powerful man in Thalania?
The latter, Meg could relate to all too well.
She bit back a sigh and kept her spine straight as she opened the door to the private suites. She paused and looked back at Alys. The woman had been a lifesaver for the last six months. Everything about her was just as understated as Noemi was glamorous. She tended to wear black with small pops of color—slacks and a blouse today—and the only jewelry Meg had ever seen on her person was a thin locket she wore around her neck. She never mentioned it and Meg didn’t feel like it was her place to ask simply to satisfy her curiosity.
She managed a real smile. “We made it through the day.”
“We did.” Alys swiped her index finger across her tablet and pushed a few buttons. “I’ve sent over your agenda for tomorrow, along with any wardrobe considerations.”
After a particularly brutal fashion mistake during her first solo social event, Alys had taken to giving her suggestions to help avoid it in the future. “Thanks. Have a good night, Alys.”
“And you as well, Consort.”
Meg shut the door and slumped against it. Once upon a time, she’d dreamed that a prince would ride into her small town and fall in love the moment he laid eyes on her. He’d rescue her from her shitty life, pull her astride his white horse, and they’d ride off into the sunset together.
That kind of thing only happened in fairy tales.
Meg had saved herself, had worked her ass off to get out of that hellhole of a town, had gotten into college, and was now one short year away from graduating with her Masters of Accounting.
Or she had been before she met that prince she’d given up waiting on to save her.
Turned out being a princess—or Consort—wasn’t all she’d dreamed of.
In fact, it kind of sucked.
“Hey, baby.”
She opened her eyes and turned to face the other man she loved—the one who occupied a second Consort position for the first time in Thalanian history. Galen Mikos. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights in the sitting room, and he sprawled in the furthest chair from the door like some kind of dark god. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but the exhaustion weighing her down was mirrored in the lines of his shoulders and thighs. “Hey.” She stepped out of her heels and walked to him. “Long day.”
“Yeah.” He took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. Galen was built for war in the same way she imagined the Spartans had been—a heavy muscled and barely contained violence. When she met him in New York, that violence had been buried deep, only visible in a hint of a look when he let the mask drop. Here, it rode much closer to the surface. The fact he couldn’t act on it in any real way just made the entire situation that much more complicated.
She pressed her face against his neck and inhaled his clove and tobacco scent. Meg had never seen Galen smoke, but he always smelled like he’d just got done rolling one of those clove cigarillos. “I spilled tea on Lady Nibley today. Right in her lap.”
Galen shifted her closer and sifted his fingers through her hair, freeing the pins that had spent all day torturing her. “I sat through an entire meeting where Isaac fucking Kozlov talked to me like I was an idiot kid. He conveniently forgot thatIwas the one who trained him before he took over as head of security.”
“I’m sorry.” She kissed his jaw. “I know it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“No, it really wasn’t.” He cursed and tossed her hair pins onto the table near his feet. “You see Theo today?”
“Not since we all went our separate ways this morning.” That was the other thing she hadn’t bargained on. In hindsight, it made sense that Theo would spend all his waking hours in long meetings about everything from national security to concern over the drought putting half the country’s crops in danger. Six months wasn’t quite enough time to undo the damage his exile had caused, and as happily as the people had welcomed him back, his decision to name both Meg and Galen as Consort had made waves that would drown all three of them if they weren’t careful.
It would help if Meg could stop fucking up.
Galen lifted his free hand and she knew without looking that he was checking his watch. “I’ve giving him an hour and then I’m going to track his ass down and haul him back here. He’s running on empty.”
“I know.” She just didn’t know how to fix it. The best Meg could do was try to ensure she wasn’t a burden, but ever since coming to Thalania, that’s exactly what she felt like. A bumbling idiot who didn’t know how to hold down a conversation without gravely insulting the very people Theo needed on his side to ensure things went smoothly. It would help if they gave her time to breathe, to find her feet, but that wasn’t in the agenda.
