Page 80 of Thrones We Steal

For a second I think he’s talking about my wanting to attack him, but then I remember my question. “I’d prefer to keep the whole thing … discreet,” I say.

His reply to this is a grunt, and he moves some papers around his desk like he’s looking for something. “There are several ways to go about it. He can enter like any other visitor, or an apartment can be arranged.”

“An apartment?”

He looks up from the mess of papers his shuffling has only intensified. “There are plenty of empty apartments. You can have one commissioned for him.”

“And he would just—what? Live here?”

“More or less.”

“But—like for meals and everything?”

“He’d probably be more comfortable taking those in his rooms.”

Nothing prepares you for a conversation like this with your father-in-law, and if I could transport myself into a room full of fighting cats right now, I’d do it. “Right. Okay. This has all been—very informative. Thank you.”

A snuffling whine draws my attention to the floor, and for the first time, I realize we’re not alone. Argos is curled on a plush dog bed next to William’s desk. He fixes me with a mournful gaze but doesn’t lift his head.

I kneel down and stroke his chocolate fur. “Hey, boy. How are you?”

“Not great,” William says.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Cancer.”

“Are there treatments?”

“Not for this.”

A different kind of hammer chips away at what remains of my heart. Isn’t it enough that humans get cancer? Do animals have to as well? “You’re going to be alright, boy,” I lie then press a kiss between his eyes.

He just blinks at me.

I stand and move toward the door, but then turn back. “Why are you helping me?”

William’s attention has already shifted to the thick file he’s holding, but he glances up. “Because without you, my son will bodge this whole bloody thing up.”

24

“Thinking of You” - Katy Perry

It’s time to face the mess that is my life head-on like an adult. If I can just pretend it’s a haphazardly-cluttered filing cabinet, I can get it sorted in no time.

The first order of business is finally giving Beck an answer. It’s been weeks since that day in the park, and I promised him I’d call. I had every intention of doing so, but the coronation is less than two months away, which is code for I’ve been so busy I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone contemplate my love life or lack thereof.

I thought the wedding was bad. Preparing for a coronation makes that seem like a backyard barbecue. Fortunately, Rosalind has to leave her fingers out of this event. My presence and opinion are required for nearly everything though, from the crowns to the chairs to the carriages.

I briefly contemplate taking the coward’s way out and telling Beck I’m too busy to give his proposition serious thought. But I’m desperate to get out of the city and away from the gold filigree on everything in sight. So I ask him to meet me an hour outside the city, in a large forest where, this time, we can be sure no cameras are lurking.

Worthington Park is a small family estate on my mother’s side, now occupied by her oldest brother. Bea and I spent part of every summer holiday there when we were kids, back when my grandfather was still alive. We stopped going after my father died, and I haven’t been back since.

Maisie found me a discreet driver with the story that I need a long, refreshing hike. I text the directions to Beck, hoping my memory serves me well and doesn’t get him lost in the woods. He agrees to come. The obstacles have all been slain, except for one.

I don’t have a clue what I’m going to tell him.

There is a turnoff for a hiking trail before the main drive to the manor house, and the driver drops me off at the end of the gravel road, a small trail visible through the underbrush. “I don’t know about leaving you here on your own, Your Royal Highness,” he says. I’ve assured him I have a ride back to the city.

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