“I was about to say the same.”
She shoots me a look. “Please don’t. I don’t want to start thinking we have things in common.”
“What about the duchy?” I taunt.
“Of all the things we don’t have in common,” she quips, “the duchy is the one we don’t have in common the most.”
I smile despite myself. The pretty shell has some humor.
“May I walk beside you?” I ask.
“If you must,” she says after a beat. “But don’t think I’m warming to you.”
“Understood.”
We fall into step, heading toward the hotel located in the city’s historic center. She keeps her arms folded tight across her chest like a shield.
“I want you to know I will fight you with everything I’ve got. Dirty. No-holds-barred,” she warns. “My lawyer, Pauline, is very good at her job.”
I glance over. “So, this is your idea of small talk?”
“If you’d prefer silence…”
“No, this is delightful.”
We keep walking. Pombrio glows in the late-September dusk. The limestone facades catch the last golden rays and appear to be lit from within. Lined with old trees starting to turn, cobbled streets stretch ahead, winding gently. Cafés hum with end-of-day energy, clinking glasses, and low laughter. A faint whiff of woodsmoke rides the breeze.
I’d enjoy this stroll more if Eva weren’t so close. Her presence is magnetic and annoying in equal measure. Her perfume doesn’t help. It has none of the sugary sweetness most ladies favor. Instead, it’s seductive in a sharp, provocative way that’s so much her.
We round a corner near the old ramparts. Ahead, the Château des Neiges rises behind its iron gates. It looms like a relic of war, all gray stone, massive walls, and conical towers stabbing the sky. From here, its pillars, turrets, and narrow windows give it the look of pure fortification rather than a fairy-tale castle.
A small crowd has gathered outside the gates. It’s thickening fast, with people pouring in from all sides.
“What’s going on?” Eva asks a passing woman.
“Palace announcement,” the woman calls over her shoulder. “They’re opening the balcony!”
Eva turns to me. “Felicia. It must be about Felicia.”
We’re pulled along by the flow like driftwood on a tide. The square before the château is already full, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, all eyes fixed on the second-floor balcony.
Good news or bad?I wonder.
For the sake of the royals, the principality, and all citizens, I hope it’s good.
Someone presses into my back. I press forward. Eva’s arm brushes mine. We’re boxed in.
A kid’s elbow jabs her in the side. She winces, rubbing the spot.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she assures me.
I shift sideways and slide behind her. My arms come around her, loose but firm.
She looks up at me over her shoulder. “What are you?—”
“Just shielding you from elbows,” I say flatly. “Nothing else.”
