Page 17 of Scarred Crown

“Oh, please,” I say, taking another gulp of my drink. “Alex isn’t that bad.”

Nick goes still beside me. “Since when?” He searches my face.

“I don’t know,” I say carefully, thinking of Alex in the kitchen who was almost civil to me for once. “Don’t you think he’s mellowed a bit in college?”

Nick draws his knees toward his chest, and his drink dangles from his fingers before he chugs the spritzer. “No, I don’t think he’s mellowed.”

Since we were little, Alex has acted like he’s the smartest person in the room, even when he isn’t. He constantly niggles Nick about being the ‘spare.’ His favorite phrases start with When I’m king and often get worse from there. I’m not convinced Alex does any of it with malice—it’s just him. Arrogant and cocky and oblivious to everyone else’s feelings.

He pours himself another generous drink but doesn’t say anything more, just stares out over the property, not even watching for meteors anymore.

My opinion of Alex softening even slightly has ruffled his feathers. Luckily, smoothing them is my specialty.

“Do you think she’d need anti-depressants or a hard-core drug addiction to marry him?” I muse.

Nick glances at me, and the tension eases from his shoulders. He grins.

Just like that, we slip into our easy banter while another meteor streaks across the sky above us. I could stay on this roof with Nick for the rest of my life and never regret a moment.

“I promise,” I say, my voice tinged with humor, “if your father tries to arrange your marriage, I’ll sacrifice my freedom for you. Fall on the sword. Take one for the team. Drink from the poisoned cup.”

Nick clinks his glass with mine. “Cheers to that. That’s one promise you won’t be getting out of.”

Luckily, I can’t imagine I’d want to, anyway.

Julia

Once Nick is gone from the tent, I sink into my breakfast chair and check my phone signal. Nothing. No bars. Kafil told me last night I can purchase data from the camp’s Wi-Fi, and they have a satellite phone I can use to get my messages and make phone calls. Outside the camp, I may get a signal, but here it’s unlikely.

The king asked me to check in after I gauged Nick’s reaction to coming home. Although we didn’t compare notes, I’m sure neither of us expected him to jump at the chance to return to Bellerive.

A phone call to the king is best. He doesn’t answer his emails. His secretary does. My mother doesn’t need to be aware of my tit-for-tat with Nick. Her sense of humor isn’t quite the same as King George’s.

Will he even answer his phone? The lack of goodbye yesterday was strange. He and Alex were holed up in meetings with my mother all day, but since I was leaving, I wasn’t privy to their discussions. After becoming his right hand the last few years being cut off so abruptly was disconcerting like they were hiding something from me. An overreaction, I’m sure. I’m just not used to being excluded.

I watch the clock turn over on my phone. How long will I need to sit here to guarantee Nick will be frustrated with me when I turn up?

Last night when I chatted to Kafil I learned he’s at this camp until Nick’s adventure is done. Whether we leave on time or not today is no concern to him because he’s got nothing else to do but serve Nick’s needs. I’m not inconveniencing him by showing up late. However, I remember well how much Nick likes to be punctual. Early, even. Odd for a boy and a man who has often prided himself on being a rebel.

My tardiness will drive him bonkers.

When almost twenty minutes have ticked by, I gather my camera and water bottle. I unzip the flap and keep a watchful eye on the long grasses along the path. Kafil said the dangers were mostly at night, but no one can afford to be complacent in the middle of the Serengeti. Animals can wander wherever they like. Thrilling and terrifying to think of coming close to such big, dangerous wildlife.

I frown when I get close to the meal tent, and I adjust my prescription sunglasses. Hadn’t this been where Kafil said the vehicle would be parked? Not a single person anywhere.

“Habari za asubuhi. Are you looking for the prince?” a male voice calls to me from inside the meal tent. “He left you a note.”

“He left?” I squawk. Seems I’ve underestimated my opponent.

“Yes. They departed at seven, sharp.” He ducks out the canvas door and passes me a slip of paper. “He said you had changed your mind about going out this morning. Too jetlagged? He asked me to give you this when you arrived for some more food. Are you hungry? He mentioned you only ate half your crepe.”

Because he ate the other half. Am I angry or impressed Nick took off without me? Dropping me on my ass, figurately or literally, never used to be his thing. Who knows what his thing is now? I guess I’m learning. He obviously takes his punctuality just as seriously as he did when we were kids. Being raised on dinners with leaders from other countries, diplomatic trips, fundraisers, and public outreach has honed Nick’s sense of responsibility in some ways. Made him rebellious in others though.

I finger the folded note and contemplate not even opening it. Maybe he left me instructions on how to meet up with him? Younger Nick would have. I flip it open and suppress my eye roll.

Told you not to be late.

That’s it. No indication he’ll be back for me later or how to fill my time since he’s abandoned me. I huff out a breath and rip up his note. So frustrating.