“Your Majesty,” I correct, deliberately formal. “And this conversation is over. I’ll see you after the recess.”
I stride from the room before she can respond, my blood pounding in my ears. The corridor outside is mercifully empty, allowing me to maintain my dignity as I make my way toward my private quarters.
Victoria catches up to me halfway there, her expression concerned. “Your Highness, that was?—”
“I know.” I don’t slow my pace. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“Actually, I was going to say it was rather restrained, given the circumstances.” She keeps pace beside me. “But the Prime Minister isn’t used to being challenged.”
“Then she’s in for an educational experience.” I reach the door to my quarters, pausing with my hand on the handle. “I need time alone, Victoria. No meetings for the rest of the day.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Of course. I’ll ensure you’re not disturbed.”
Inside my quarters, I close the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing in the quiet space. For a moment, I simply stand there, eyes closed, trying to rein in the anger and frustration threatening to overwhelm me.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But it’s no use. Months of work, years of planning, seem to be crumbling before my eyes. Jane’s resistance isn’t unexpected, but her unwillingness to even fight for the bill is a betrayal I hadn’t anticipated.
With a muttered curse, I sweep the carefully arranged papers from my desk, watching them scatter across the floor. The childish gesture brings no relief, only a vague sense of embarrassment at my loss of control.
This isn’t who you are.
Except maybe it is. Maybe beneath the carefully cultivated royal composure, I’m just as human, just as flawed as anyone else. Just as capable of anger and disappointment, of passion and desire.
The thought of desire brings Rangi to mind—his steady presence during the meeting, the way his eyes had met mine in silent support. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine seeking him out, finding comfort in his arms, his lips.
No. Not now. Not when everything is falling apart.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
“I said no interruptions,” I call, not bothering to mask my irritation.
The door opens anyway, revealing Rangi. He steps inside, closing the door behind him.
“Victoria said you needed space,” he says, taking in the scattered papers and my dishevelled appearance. “But I thought you might need something different.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, not moving from where I stand, my heart pounding.
“Me.”
11
RANGI
“Me.” I crosse the room, stopping a respectful distance away.
I’ve never seen him life this–bereft. Leo runs his hands through his hair, his expression dark and hopeless. “They’re going to sacrifice the Valley,” he says, the words raw. “And who knows how many other sites. All for profit.”
“I know.” My heart aches for the pain he’s experiencing. For the pain our people will experience when they learn of it.
“I’ve tried everything—diplomatic channels, legal arguments, economic incentives. Nothing moves them.” He runs a hand through his hair again, the strands now wilds as he paces. “They don’t care about our heritage, our culture. They only see resources to be exploited.”
I watch him, letting him vent without interruption.
I’m here, Leo.
“Do you know what Jane said?” he continues, unable to stop now that the dam has broken. “That I need to be ‘realistic.’ Asif I haven’t spent my entire life being realistic, being practical, putting duty above everything else.”
