A bottle of whiskey sits on the bar counter with a note from Miles. It’s an American bourbon that he’s been tracking down for a while. The note says to share it with someone special. I guess he assumed I would be taking someone back to the hotel after these evening events.
I pour myself a glass and take out my phone. I know a few people around Cronomarra, one in particular who is always down for a quick shame fuck when I happen to be in town. But when I open my messages, I catch sight of the thread with Aurelia, and anyone else on my mind slips away. I find myself wondering if she likes bourbon.People from the American South like whiskey, right?
I begin typing out a message to her, a casual invite to join me in the offering from Miles, but think better of it. If an invitation to a football match is enough to raise her walls, talk of a nightcap alone in my room is sure to send her running.Christ, I’m an idiot. Instead, I type out an apology, explaining that I had no intentions other than to enjoy a match with someone whoshares my passion. My heart leaps when three little dots pop up a few seconds later. Then they disappear.
Well, I royally fucked that up.I’d laid in my huge empty bed last night, watching for those three dots to crop up again. They never did. I gave up after an hour and switched over to reply to some emails I had ignored during the day. My focus continued to drift, and finally, there was nothing for it but a few more glasses of whiskey and an obligatory bedtime shame jerk.
Five o’clock finds me wide awake even though I only fell asleep four hours before. There’s no use trying to go back to sleep. I’ve never been able to fall back asleep once I’m up. The exception being the total exhaustion of boot camp. That’s the only time in my life when I’d slept like the dead.
My substitute valet had laid out a pair of thick sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie. Tristan had apparently prepared him well. I lace up my runners and pull on a knit hat with the Portyard badge on the front.
I had texted my security team when I woke, and Brenton is already waiting for me outside my door. Frank had gone ahead to scout a route, like he always does when I’m traveling. He’s in his fifties and in decent shape still, but in no condition to keep up with the two of us. Brenton and I can knock out a sub-six-minute mile on a good day.
The sea air is cleaner and crisper here. I loverunning along the water back home, but the pollution from the port and the mills dampens the scent from the sea. Here, there is room to breathe. I forgo my typical morning news podcast as we run along the boardwalk, preferring the soundtrack of the crashing waves and screaming gulls to the bleak current events.
My mind has no space for such today. It’s like a tangled mess of wires in there, each thought leading to another in a jumble of worry, confusion, and doubt.
Am I doing Father proud on this trip? How many more will he send me on? Is he passing on these responsibilities because it is truly my time, or because he is running out of it?I’m nowhere near ready to take that on. I’m older than Father was when he became king, but I still feel woefully young to be taking on such a role.
That wire inevitably leads to the upcoming princess trials. A wedding will take place before my thirtieth birthday next year, whether I’m ready or not. Noble women from around the world will be flocking to Marvia City this week in hopes of becoming the next princess, future queen, mother of the heirs.
And thoughts of those women then lead to?—
“Oof!”
I turn a corner and run right into something, knocking the air from my lungs. Brenton is in front of me in a flash, his body between me and whatever I had collided with. Frank and another guard jump from the black SUV following us, both shouting with tasers drawn. My brain is so far gone it takes me a minute torealize I had run into a person as they cry apologies. Then the accent clicks.
“Whoa! Whoa. Relax, everyone,” I shout above my security team, putting a hand on Brenton’s shoulder. He stands firm.
“I’m so sorry,” Aurelia pleads again.
I see over my guard’s shoulder as she sits in a heap on the sidewalk, hands held in the air, whisps of hair plastered to her damp forehead. Her green eyes are huge and dart from one man to another before finding mine, flashing with something like embarrassment.
Pretty. Goddammit, why does she have to be so pretty?
“Stand down, men,” I say, more firmly this time.
Frank may outrank me in the military, but we’re not soldiers here. He lowers his taser and waves down the others. Aurelia heaves a sigh and drops her hands.
I chuckle as I hold out an arm to help her off the ground. She stares for a moment, and I wonder if she might refuse the gesture, but whatever battle she’s fighting in her head ends in my favor as she takes my hand. I hold on perhaps a bit longer than necessary, allowing my thumb to caress over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. I thrill at feeling her pounding pulse under my touch. She drops her eyes, and I let her hand fall. My men have backed off by now, always conscious to give me space when they aren’t immediately needed.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to disturb your run.”
“I should be the one apologizing.” I stoop to pick up her phone from the sidewalk. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
Aurelia snatches the phone from me, but not before I catch a glimpse of the audiobook she’s listening to. The author’s name is vaguely familiar, and based on the shirtless man on the cover, I think I can place the genre. I know I’m right when her cheeks redden.
Even a sweating mess, this woman is striking. I am again hypnotized by the way her chest moves as she catches her breath from what appears to be a rather vigorous run. Or the result of her listening material? And fuck, now I’m thinking about other activities that would also lead to sweating and heavy breathing.
“And I need to apologize for last night, too,” she says, eyes firmly fixed on the tip of her shoe, tracing an arc in the concrete.
“Aurelia—”
“No.” Her gaze snaps back up to me. “I overreacted.”
“I was crass and presumptuous.”
“You made a joke and I let outside factors color my perception.”
