Page 44 of Roaming Holiday

Shooing him away reminds me of Maia. Before I fall into a state of worry about how my sister would adapt to being princess, I push everything from my mind and take a sip of my drink.

For a single moment, I don’t want to think about anything. Not my crippling relationship with Dad. Not the check-in texts Raven sends me. And definitely not how invigorated Wesley makes me feel from a simple touch, yet at the same time, his steady presence calms me beyond expectation. I press a hand against my cheek and close my eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“You should see it in the autumn.”

I try not to get angry at the gentle voice. A brunette man around my age saunters up to me, his dreamy gaze on the dark landscape. In heels, I have a solid four inches on him.

“Yeah,” I breathe out, my hand tightening around the champagne glass. I don’t even like champagne. “I bet it looks breathtaking.”

I don’t remember his name or know how to politely tell him to leave me alone. “What do you think of the country so far?” he asks, his Maldanian accent strong.

I have yet to come up with a blanket reply to people asking me this question. He’s seeking a hint about what my decision will be. “It’s absolutely beautiful here. I love it.”

“Do you feel at home?”

I tense. What a weird question. “Well—with my mother from here, I certainly feel a connection.”

From the corner of my eye, I spot him nod. He speaks in a soft voice. “Nice… That is nice.”

Awkward silence fills the space. It’s odd that he doesn’t get the hint I don’t want to engage in conversation. My answers are brief, reserved. I need this time alone before I go back to the crowd.

Speak up, Nina. Demand your space.

“Um, if you wouldn’t mind?—”

I barely have time to gasp as his hands around my throat dig into my windpipe. My chest immediately explodes with pain, begging for more air. The man’s kind eyes turn dark as he leans into me, and my entire body is aflame with nerves when I feel the breeze against my bare arms.

He’s choking me.

He’s killing me.

Panic washes over me and I don’t know what to do first. Grab onto the ledge so he can’t throw me over. Hit him with the champagne glass! But my hands are empty. When did I drop it? I don’t remember hearing the glass shatter.

“We don’t want you here,” the man whispers, his hold around my neck tightening as his breath fans my cheeks. “Death to the monarch. Vi ponte lo revínastí.”

Is this going to be the last face I see?

My ears burn. My vision blurs. No amount of clawing at his face and hands stops the breath draining from me. I have no more energy to panic; all of it rushes to my core and tries to fight for air. Black dots hover in front of me. My legs weaken, and he starts to lower with me until two big hands cover his face from behind and rips him away like it’s nothing.

I collapse as air rushes back into my lungs. Alive. Breathe. Tears well in my eyes, a few escaping despite the effort. Through my foggy vision, I can see who tore him off me.

Wesley.

22

WESLEY

At first, I assume the red I see is from my anger.

And then I notice the blood on my hands.

“All right, he’s down!” Jack yells, pulling me off the attacker after my fourth punch. I stumble back, swiping my mouth with my wrist. My knuckles throb, but I forget about any discomfort when I see Nina collapsed on the floor with a hand on her necklace as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Get back,” I snap when a security guard reaches out to help her.

Nina looks at me, her face red and eyes glassy, and I pour my focus into getting her out of here before I finish the man who tried to kill her. I take her trembling hand in my bloody one as I reach my other arm around her waist. My stomach caves at the sound of her ragged breathing.

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