“We’re not,” I say, finally accepting the truth. There was never any plan that would have worked. What I did in Europe was the result of impossible circumstances. I don’t have any power compared to the royal monarchy. “I’ll just say hi and give him a hug and tell him I miss him.”
“Is that enough?”
It’s not, but it’ll have to be. “You’ll cause a distraction?” I ask.
“Of course. Too bad the weather couldn’t help us out at all.” She side-eyes the cloudless sky. (Naomi loathes sunshine. She calls ituninspired.) “We could use a little help from nature’s distraction right about now.”
“You are so weird. And thank you for doing this for me.”
“Ride or die,” she confirms, giving my hand a quick squeeze before we split up.
She approaches the crowd from the left and I walk a far arc out to the right. I unzip my backpack and retrieve a handful of Wally’s favorite peanut butter dog treats. Comet is chasing a bird when Naomi lets out an earsplitting shriek. “Victoria! I love you!” She sounds completely unhinged, and several nearby guards turn their attention toward her.Perfect.
Victoria raises her hand in a hesitant wave as Naomi shoves her way to the front of the crowd. When Comet’s about fifteen feet from me, I whistle. He stops running and cocks his head.
“Comet!” I kneel behind the crowd of spectators and toss a treat in his direction while Naomi causes a ruckus. Comet’s head swivels toward me, and a new fear zips through my system: What if he doesn’t remember me? Then I say his name again andhe takes off like a shot, crossing the distance between us in seconds. He leaps into my arms, knocking me flat on my back and licking me straight across the face like every dog in those “soldier returning home” videos that make me cry until I’m dehydrated. I’m not returning from war or anything, but tears prick the corner of my eyes at our reunion anyway.
I don’t want to leave him again.
I sit up, my hand firmly around Comet’s collar, and glance around. His tail hammers my side with a dozen painful thuds. Behind us, not too far away, is a newly unmanned street entrance. “What do you think, boy?” I ask, wrapping an arm around his torso. “Can we make it?” He eats the treats I dropped on the grass, perfectly content to stay right here in my arms where he belongs.
Indecision tugs me in two directions, which isn’t like me. If I have any chance at this, I need to runnow.“Let’s go,” I say. “We’ll meet Naomi back at the car.”
I turn to see if I can catch her attention, just in time to watch in horror as a royal protection officer slaps a pair of handcuffs around her wrists and leads her away from the crowd.
CHAPTER5
My best friend is getting arrested in a foreign country and it’s all my fault.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I still love you, and I won’t ever forget you.” I kiss Comet on the head, shoo him back toward the royals, and move without thinking.
“Sorry, excuse me, I have to find my friend. Excuse me, oops, sorry!” I take advantage of Canadian politeness to quickly elbow my way to the front of the crowd and approach the nearest security officer. “Excuse me! Please, I need to talk to you!” He doesn’t indicate that he can hear me, but there’s no way he doesn’t, even with the jostling crowd and a steel barrier between us. “That’s my friend you have over there, she’s not dangerous.”
He turns his head, and his eyes flash with recognition. He grabs the radio at his belt and pulls it up to his mouth.
“You know me!” I shout. I wedge my way forward so I can lean over the barrier and get a better look at his face. He’s white, with dark brown hair peppered with gray and a face that appearsin my nightmares. “You were there in Santorini. Theo”—his eyes flash again—“the Kingknows me. You know he does. Ask him. Tell him that you’re holding my best friend hostage—”
“She’s not a hostage,” he says in a monotone voice. “And stop shouting or you’ll join her.”
“Let her go.”
He turns away.
“Let me talk to the King,” I plead. No response. Fumbling, I yank open the zipper on my backpack and pull out the one thing that might give me an ounce of leverage in this situation.
I shove the marriage certificate under his nose for two seconds before wrenching it back.
He tries to snatch it from me and fails. “What was that?”
“Let me talk to the King, and I’ll show it to you.”
“I’m not daft. There’s no way it’s real,” he says tightly.
“You wanna bet?” My fingertips have gone numb with nerves, but I stand my ground. His jaw clenches as he deliberates, but after a moment he shifts the crowd-control barrier to allow me through. Whispers and titters move through the crowd, but mostly everyone is too busy craning their necks and pushing up on their toes to get a glimpse or a photo of the princess, who is now obscured by the film crews.
He leans in to speak quickly and quietly. “Follow the path south to the sunken garden. His Majesty and Major Winston will meet you there. Do not bring anyone with you.”
“But Naomi—”
