Page 8 of Desperately Yours

“Medic!”

Bodies shifted through the screen, obviously running as little Leila was tended to, but the camera didn’t stray from the true star. Fitz stared at the disturbed dirt, visibly shaking, frantic even. Leila’s little voice spoke off camera, but I could barely hear her over my pounding heart.

“It’s giving way!” A warning went up from the workers and they scrambled from the site.

Everyone, that is, except Fitz.

“No.” He rushed toward the site, scaling a long board until he was able to start digging at the earth. “Coco! Coco!”

“Please stop,” Fitz spoke with power, but couldn’t hide his shaky agitation. “Please, for the sake of those who endured it. Don’t make them relive it.”

“It’s not much longer,” Roxie argued. “We can just go another minute.”

Bodies descended on Fitz in the video, pulling, jerking, trying to forcibly remove him, but he fought back like a warrior, unrelenting and feral in his single goal.

“Stop the video,” Fitz’s voice became a command, not a request. “You’re upsetting Leila.”

“She’s fine.” Roxie pushed his worries aside. “She isn’t even in this part.”

I couldn’t look away from the video. Fitz used both arms, shoving his hands in as deep as he could to remove whatever stood between him and me. I knew that dirt too well. Tiny pebbles, large rocks, they must have torn into his skin. I glanced at his arm, disappointed by the long sleeves of his coat that hid away the truth.

“I won’t ask again, Roxanne. For the sake of the survivors, stop the film.”

Annoyed, Roxie motioned for her team to end the video. On the screen, Fitz’s whole frame froze. “I’ve got her!” In an instant, all those fighting him turned their focus to saving me. My bodyrose from the earth, coated in dirt and coughing. Fitz pulled me into his arms, a mess of emotion and pain. The camera angle zoomed in on our faces, close enough that it was impossible to miss his whispered words of apology. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

I watched as my eyes opened and small particles of mud fluttered to my cheeks. “Fitz?”

The video stopped. Any hope of declaring our connection platonic was dashed to pieces. Like the most perfect picture, other than my pale skin and dirt-coated clothing, we stared at each other, breathless and adoring. Two souls finally connecting and getting that second chance Roxie mentioned early on.

Fitz cleared his throat. “I think we’re about finished here, yes?”

Roxie agreed by nodding but pressed on. “Just a couple more questions, Your Highness.” She didn’t wait for consent. “You called her something. What was that?”

Fitz shrugged. “I don’t recallcallingher anything.”

“And she called you Fitz. Is that a normal nickname for you?”

I dared not look at him, afraid of the volumes we could give away with a stare. Instead, my panic tightened my chest in a death grip again.

“No, I can’t say that it is.”

“So,” Roxie closed in on the vein of questioning with perfect precision, “what is the nature of your relationship?”

“Michaela is competing. The same as Lady Sadira and Lady Esmerey.” Fitz tried to maintain a level voice, but he sounded close to losing it. In that arena, I was miles ahead of him. The snare tightened with every question, and I feared we wouldn’t find our way out unscathed. No one had exactly spelled out the consequence to me for spilling the truth of our longstanding relationship, but I could only imagine it would be detrimental to my health.

“Yes, she’s competing, but clearly there is a history there for the both of you.” Roxie refused to let go and I couldn’t see a way out for either of us. “We saw the clip of you pulling her over the hill at The Snood. Not to mention the way you touched her when you thought you were alone. So tender and yet intimate.”

“We’ve had a connection since the beginning.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s not my fault she wasn’t considered worthy of airtime until now.”

“You’re saying they’ve hidden your relationship?”

She was going after the conspiracy theory route and, while it wasn’t a lie, it also wasn’t safe. The room started to spin as my panic took the driver’s seat in my mind. I leaned forward, head in my hands. Everything became disconnected, as if the strings connecting me to reality had been snipped. Fitz gave a short command and within moments, the royal doctors helped me off stage. Cool air eased over my warm cheeks as we stepped into the hallway. Kabir quickly took over, looping my arm around his neck to take almost my full weight in his strength.

“Here, m’lady.” He helped me to a bench against the wall, around the corner from the ballroom. Once sitting, I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, face cradled in my palms. My bodyguard’s hand rubbed my back softly, almost apologetically. He was charged with keeping me safe, and this wasn’t supposed to be an attack. It was only an interview. But I knew that question in the wrong hands could be weapons. “Wait here. I’ll get you water.”

The direction to stay put wasn’t actually necessary. It wasn’t like I was springing to my feet to do cartwheels, let alone walk back to my room. My confuddled head still spun, overwhelmed by the risks of the interview and what I’d learned from the video.

Fitz fought for me.

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