Ari stared at the castle walls, lit up like a birthday cake. “What are you talking about?” he rumbled. “It’s the royal palace.”
She nodded, but inside Fran was roiling.Was this the right thing? Was it time?
There was no way to know. But there also was no denying that Ari had already been recognized twice today. First by the cabbie, though he hadn’t realized exactly who he was seeing, and secondly by the beautiful woman at the festival.
Whether Fran wanted it to happen or not, time was running short, and if she didn’t want Ari to be blindsided by what she was about to hand him into, she owed him some explanation.
Coward.This wasn’t about solely Ari, though, if she was being honest with herself. This was about avoiding any more of his questions—questions which made her yearn to spill all the stupid, inconsequential stories of her past, stories she’d never been able to tell. Couldn’t tell.
Wouldn’t tell.
So, the most effective redirect she’d managed yet to escape revealing her own secrets? Telling Ari about his.
“It’s as I thought,” he said, his words startling her out of her self-castigation. “I work for the royal family. I knew it had to be something like that.”
She grimaced. “Well…that’s not exactly it.”
Fran continued before she lost her nerve. “Twelve months ago, Aristotle Andris left the royal palace on the eve of a terrible storm over the Aegean,” she said, holding on tightly to Ari’s hand as it began to shake. He never took his eyes off the castle, though, and he didn’t turn away. She plunged on. “He took off in his two-seater plane from the municipal airfield south of the city, and never came home. Pieces of his plane were found, but no body. After months of searching, he was officially declared dead.”
“Dead?” The shock and growing panic in Ari’s face seared Francesca, and in her heart she knew she’d done the right thing, telling him. He would have time to process the information…and his mother would never have to see that look of profound loss on his face, the bewildered betrayal.
“But how could they do that without a body? Didn’t the royal family object?” he asked. His other hand flailed and she reached for it, locking them both in hers. He stared at her in wild confusion.
“You were missing—and no one could believe you were gone. That you wouldn’t come back. Your parents threw every resource into the search, but nothing came of it. The entire country sank into mourning, and as the weeks dragged into months, your parents could see the grief was damaging the spirit of Garronia,” she said. “The people were broken with your loss and couldn’t heal without moving on in some way. Your younger brother—”
Ari jolted and glared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief. “I have a brother?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak for a moment given the hope and wonder in his face, the realization that he did have a family. Then she cleared her throat and carried on, despite the strangled pressure in her throat. “Kristos. He also refused to believe you were dead. Your best friend too. Your parents. None of them could accept it, but the country needed to recover, needed to have a reason to hope again. They—the people wouldn’t let you go, otherwise.”
“It’s a proud country,” Ari murmured, and there were tears glistening in his eyes as he gazed back to the palace walls. “Proud and fierce and passionate in its grief. For any of its lost sons.”
“And you were their prince. Their future king,” Fran said, though Ari shook his head. “But your brother resisted until—well, it was less than a month ago that he finally acquiesced to be the crown prince. A job he’s quite sure he’ll hate.”
“My job,” Ari said. He turned back to her, incredulous. “You’re saying that’s my job.”
“You’re the eldest son.”
“But Ryker Stavros…” he said the words almost plaintively and Fran nodded at him. He didn’t need to be told no right now, he needed to be drawn to the yes.
“Ryker Stavros was a name you’d chosen for yourself when you were young, when you and your brother would imagine you were warriors and pilots, off on grand adventures.”
“Pilots.” Ari barked a laugh, then a new realization struck him. He pulled his hands free from hers, stepping back. “You knew…all of this. You knew who I was. And you didn’t tell me. You let me believe I was—” he glared at her. “We made love!”
Guilt smashed into Fran like a fist, and she could feel the blood draining out of her face.
Thisis why you didn’t fall for your patients. This was why you didn’t get too close! Even if he wasn’t a patient, she’d violated Ari’s trust…
Wait a minute.Fran scowled. Ari wasn’t an idiot, and just that fast, her own anger spiked equally hot.
“Don’t give me that,” she snapped back, her Midwestern twang loud in her ears. “You knew I had some idea of who you are. Stefan knew your family, and Nicki was my friend. You saw us talking—you knew. You’re right, I should never have—we should never have—” she flapped her hands as he scowled at her. “But we did. We did and—shit.”
Ari blinked but he wasn’t Fran’s only problem right now. She’d known standing in front of the royal freaking palace was like dangling candy in front of a baby, and she’d been right. Two men came striding out of the front gates, backed by a trio of big, burly types that had to be members of the GNSF. Ari was about to be collected, whether he was ready or not.
“Look—you don’t owe me anything,” she said hurriedly to Ari. “But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let the honor guard bearing down on you know about the sex. That’s probably not going to sit too well with them.”
“The honor—” Ari pivoted, staring. “The captain and Stefan.”
“The captain’s name is Dimitri, and cut him some slack,” she said, her words low and tight—but there remained so much Ari didn’t remember, and so much that he needed to. “Out of everyone, he never gave up. He blames himself for you leaving that night.”
