Her lipstick was bright red, like blood, and the pearl necklace around her slender neck was calling to me. Not to take but to tighten. I wanted to see if her lipstick matched the color her capillaries would make when they burst.
“Of course, you’re very busy, I understand. Right this way.”
Edward smirked as we followed her. He knew I hated people who panted for affection. I’d have to talk with Father regarding his selection of her. Based on reports, she was spending beyond the budget, projects were falling behind, and a couple of weeks ago she’d had a slight altercation with a patron at a bar. Very unbecoming.
I stood inside the town hall while she did her thing. I’d gotten an update on Wynn. He’d arrived at the Golden Rose Hotel and as of an hour ago was sightseeing with his friends. I was hoping to ask if he’d like to be my guest for dinner tonight, but I’d need to get through this speech first.
Once I was introduced, I did my duty and read the speech that was written for me, smiled, waved, took some pictures, and answered some questions. When it was finally over, I leaned closer to Edward.
“Please get the car, find out where Wynn is. I’d like to talk to him.”
“Your Highness…”
“Now, Edward.”
He dipped his chin and instructed someone else to do it. The man rarely left my side while I was in public.
“So, Your Royal Highness, will you be at the dinner tonight?” Rona grinned, her floral perfume whirling around me.
“Of course.”
“How lovely, I’d love to talk with you more. Perhaps get to know you better.”
I’d avoided making direct eye contact with her because that always invited more conversation, but I had to put a lid on this.
“You know exactly what I want you to know about myself, Governor. Nothing more.”
Her smile dipped, and she released a nervous laugh. “Yes, absolutely.”
Once in the car, I looked at Edward expectantly.
“He’s at the pottery museum.”
I didn’t know why that was adorable or why my temper that Rona had flared up immediately calmed when he said that, but it did.
“The pottery museum?”
“We can be there in five minutes.”
I motioned for him to instruct the driver to take us there and turned my gaze to the window. People lined the streets, holding up signs that were ludicrous: Marry me! Will you kiss my baby? I love you! Absurd. I was never as happy for tinted glass so they couldn’t see my face. Seriously, what was wrong with people?
We pulled up to the museum, and I waited in the car while my security detail did their thing. I hoped Wynn was still there, though I suspected if he wasn’t I’d know.
As soon as my door was opened, I was on the move. That unsettling itch beneath my skin began to irritate, and the pull to find Wynn was suffocating.
The pottery museum wasn’t even that big, but in that moment, it felt like it was miles and miles of endless aisles. My agitation grew and grew and finally I heard it: his voice.
“I just don’t see how this is art, Hannah. It’s a wad of snot. How was it ever considered a bowl? It couldn’t hold anything.”
And just like that my head cleared, my heart calmed, and I took a huge breath. I moved around the corner, and there he was. His friends were on either side of him, and they were staring with their heads cocked at a Crellesian worship bowl.
“Technically it holds an organ. Heart, usually. The clay surrounds it, so chances are there are ashes inside from a long ago heart belonging to someone deserving of worship.”
All three of them spun at the same time; it was almost comical. I only had eyes for Wynn, and he was smiling.
“Are you stalking me?”
“If I said yes, what would you say to that?”
