Page 63 of Fallen Crown

“Your balcony looks much better than mine,” I say, and I step from the top of mine to the top of hers, and I jump down with grace. Not going to lie—I’m a bit impressed with myself. Last time I tried that, I fell. Of course, I was drunk. “All those hours of climbing amounted to something, I guess.”

“Almost amounted to a heart attack for me.”

But instead of smacking me or drawing me into a hug, she sinks into her lounger and motions for me to take the bottom. She gathers the blanket from the ground and drapes part of it over herself and then offers some to me.

“How are you really doing?” I ask after I take the offered blanket, and then, even though I know better, I draw her legs across my lap.

“Okay,” she says, and she lets out a deep sigh. “Are you being weird with me because of the cameras or because of what happened in my apartment?”

Normally, I’m all for blunt, but she’s shied away from it before, and her upfront attitude takes me by surprise.

“I just have to know how you want me to behave around you,” she says.

“Any way you want,” I say. “But you need to be aware that they’ll edit the shit out of everything. What seems innocent might not after it’s been sliced and diced.” I pick my words carefully, like I would do if I was being a royal and not if I was being Brice. “I don’t want you to go home to a difficult situation because I overstepped.” I hesitate. “Again.”

“You didn’t overstep. I did.” She drags her fingers from her temple to her chin. “Voicing this next part is terrifying—“

“Your Highness!” Gary comes storming out the balcony door across from us. “Your Highness!” The third balcony door is thrown open, and Jag appears.

“Did you find him?” Jag asks.

“Find who?” I try to keep the irritation out of my voice. Clearly, they’re looking for me, but Tucker and I were about to have a moment.

Gary releases an audible breath, and Jag grumbles before heading back into his room. The sliding door closes with a bang.

“Your Highness,” Gary says. “If you’re leaving the hotel room, you need to notify one of us.”

“Last-minute decision,” I say, and I run my hand along Tucker’s bare leg under the blanket. Her skin is so soft. “What’s wrong?”

“Your mother is on the phone,” Gary says, and he holds up his cell phone.

All our devices have already been collected. We aren’t allowed any technology on the course. Jag and Gary, for safety reasons, have been allowed to have them. But the GPS trackers and map apps all had to be deleted or disabled. Not as though my teammates are likely to condone cheating, and it would be a PR nightmare for The Crown if I was caught doing that…in any capacity.

My hand stills on Tucker’s leg. Every time I promise myself I won’t slide back into this easy affection with her, I can’t help myself. Someone needs to put a shock collar on me.

I get off the lounger, and when I go to the edge of the balcony, I shoo Gary away. “I need space.”

“Your Highness,” he says in an uncertain voice.

Then I’m on the metal railing, across the gap, and on my own balcony before he can formulate a reaction. I take the phone from him and press it to my chest before turning back to Tucker.

“I’ll just be a minute.” I hold the phone to my ear, and as soon as my mother starts talking, I realize I won’t be a minute. The conversation starts with her wishing me luck and then quickly morphs into her worrying about my safety. This is going to take more than a minute.

When I glance across at Tucker’s balcony, I realize she’s gone, and whatever she was going to tell me, the opportunity is lost.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Maren

There’s something about being up before the sun rises that I genuinely love. It might be the quiet or maybe it’s that so many of my best memories have started on days like today—a group of people, an organizer making announcements, a sharp chill in the air while I hoist a heavy pack higher onto my back.

Beside me, Brice is jittery, but Wren and Riker are calm and focused on my other side. There’s a camera crew behind us, and they’ve hovered near us since we left the hotel room. I have a feeling last night on the balcony is going to be my final chance at any alone time with Brice without the glare of a camera in one of our faces. Maybe it’s better I didn’t get a chance to talk to him for longer; I might have said things it would be hard to take back. Could have made for an awkward ten days on the course.

We’re less than five minutes from rushing toward the tiny sailboats we’ll use as the first leg of the race when Jag wedges his way in between me and Brice.

“I just got a text from Caitlin. Said you needed to know. The package has been delivered to Boston.”

The weight that’s been sitting on my chest dissipates. I thought the heaviness was about my decision, but maybe it was more about whether my wishes would be carried out in time. Caitlin said she was prioritizing me, but she had some sticky and time-sensitive legal situations crop up this week.