An image of Frederic alone in my room, finding the ring and my note forces a heavy lead weight to drop in my belly.
He might not love me, but I know I’ve hurt him.
As the train pulls into Villadorata, all my tears have dried and I’m left feeling nothing but numb.
Huh. I’ve become a marble statue. This must be what it’s like to be Frederic.
The irony doesn’t escape me.
We busy ourselves hauling my luggage down from the overhead compartment. There’s far too much of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave behind the dresses and outfits Frederic’s parents had given me. Leaving the ring was hard enough. I’ll have the clothes returned to the palace before I leave. That, at least, feels manageable.
“Do you have a plan from here?” Anya asks as we step onto the platform.
“I just thought I needed to get to Villadorata so I could fly home.”
She studies me carefully. “Have you told your parents?”
“My parents?” I shake my head. “No. I didn’t want to do it on the train. I thought I’d cry too much. Although, given how much I cried anyway, it probably wouldn’t have made much difference.”
I notice a commotion further down the platform and fear grips my chest. “You don’t think the press knows, do you?”
“I’m sure they don’t. It’s probably just the morning rush. Villadorata’s a big city. It will have lots of commuters.”
I nod, drawing in a steadying breath.
I see a crowd gathering, but they aren’t looking at me. Relief washes through me.
“It must be a street performer or something,” I say, shifting my grip as we juggle my cases and move with the flow of people.
And then I see him.
I come to a dead stop, my bags slipping from my hands and falling with a thud to the platform.
Frederic.
He looks completely disheveled. His hair is mussed, his white shirt half-untucked, the buttons done up wrong, cuffs loose around his wrists. He looks nothing like the pristine, composed prince I know.
Through the crowds, his eyes find mine.
I suck in a sharp breath, my heart immediately slamming against my ribs.
My first thought is,what is he doing here?It’s followed instantly by another, far more dangerous one.I have never seen him look so handsome.
There’s something almost unreal about him now. Something reckless. Definitely romantic, like a hero stepping out of the pages of a book.
He strides toward me on his strong, athletic legs, his eyes barely leaving mine. People scramble after him and then it’s suddenly obvious. He’s who they’ve come to see.
He stops in front of me, his breathing shallow as his gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that steals the very air from my lungs. “Asti. I found you.”
“What are you doing here?” Somehow I manage to keep my voice steady as my heart thrashes in my ears like a fish on dry land.
“I came to see you.” His voice is rough, urgent. “I don’t want you to leave.”
I lift my chin, determined not to let myself fold at the sight of him. Of course, I fail because the truth is alreadythere, loud and undeniable. I’m falling in love with this man.
A familiar tune begins to play on the tinny loud speaker, and it takes my brain a moment to work out what it is.
“I listened to the mixtape,” he says as the music begins to swirl around us.
