Page 15 of Desperately Yours

“I’m happy to be well again, Your Majesty.” I dropped my grip on Fitz’s arm to lower myself into a curtsy to show respect. “Thank you for your generosity in my recovery.”

As I came up, I noted the way her eyes twitched, like a jungle cat rethinking her next attack. If she came after me again, she would look like a bully. Her lips tightened into a scowl, but she was pretty enough to pull it off.

“Please,” she motioned for everyone to take their seats, “let’s eat.”

Fitz glanced around the room, clearly searching for someone. “Where’s Father? I thought he was coming.”

The queen’s façade fractured. “I’m afraid he isn’t feeling up to it.” She forced a smile back into place, red lips spreading painfully wide. “Next time, I’m sure.”

When we were kids, I noticed early on the way Fitz hid his emotions. It didn’t last long at my house. Between Mom and me prying them out of him, he learned it was okay, actually healthy, to express those feelings. There was even a moment in our last semester where he told off the principal for hypocritical testing policies and won the battle of wits. At the time, I thought he was just fired up and lucky. Knowing how he was raised, I realized now that it was years of training as royalty that had taught him how to form an argument, but it was me and Mom who gave him the voice.

Watching him struggle to conceal his emotions, I recognized that once he’d returned home, no one cared and he fell into old habits. He must have felt my concerned stare because he turned to face me. With a short shake of his head, he stopped my question early. Hand on my lower back, he escorted me to myseat. Keeping his voice below the chatter in the room, he said, “I haven’t seen him in days. I’ve been barred from him as well as you. I wanted him to meet you properly so he could give me his bles—”

A blonde woman intercepted us before I could take my seat. “Oh my, you’re Michaela, aren’t you? The one who rescued that little girl?”

Wait. I wanted to go back to what Fitz was saying. Was he asking his father to approve us as a couple? Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

“Yes.” Fitz slipped back into his role as the Crown prince. “Michaela, this is Celani Elderwood. She’s following your story and hoped you could chat for a bit.” He gave an apologetic smile and stepped away from us.

When Celani smiled, I expected danger like I’d experienced with Roxanne, but warmth radiated from her expression. Dare I say, she appeared to be a fan of mine.

“It’s so great to meet you. I’ve been following your journey ever since the hospital episode.” Celani motioned toward our chairs, and I sat next to her. “I don’t know if anyone else saw but I was watching you in that feed. Sadira got to the little girl first, but you were sprinting, weren’t you?”

I smoothed my dress nervously. “It was an emergency.”

“You were a woman on a mission.” She smiled and shook her head. “And that wasn’t the first time, was it? When I rewatched the bonus feeds, you’ve been in the background all along, always doing the most merciful things. Especially for Lady Sadira.”

My stomach twisted. “I like helping people.”

“I should say so. Why do—” She started to speak, but a footman cleared his throat behind her.

“Miss Elderwood, I believe you are in Master Bishop’s seat.”

Her lips pushed together as she considered her options. “Can’t we switch? I’m quite happy right here.”

Bishop shrugged. “Fine by me, but you do risk upsetting Her Majesty.”

Heaven forbid anyone do that.

Celani set her hand over my wrist. “I guess I’ll have to raise my voice to be heard.” She pushed her chair back and within seconds, Bishop filled the space.

“Thank you,” I whispered once I thought no one would hear.

“Any time.” He cleared his throat. “But I wager she’s the president of your fan club, so if you think it’s over, I promise, the interrogation has only just begun.”

Michaela

Dinner proceeded easily. With Bishop at my side at least I didn’t use the wrong spoon or anything. Okay, I did pick up the wrong fork once, but he cleared his throat before anyone noticed. Apparently, that could have been disastrous.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know etiquette. I had lessons early in my pageant career so that I could represent my titles in a number of situations, but those lessons didn’t involve Nolcovian traditions. Where the rest of the world worked from the outside in with silverware, Nolcovia preferred an outside-inside rotating pattern that took me a moment to get the hang of. Plus, I’d never been to a dinner that had ever lasted this long.

The grandest meal I’d ever been to was six courses. I pacedmyself for something along that line of thinking, but after hors d’oeuvre, soup, appetizers, and salad, I expected the fish that was placed before me to be the main dish and dessert would follow. I was full, but not miserable, though I did find it odd that Bishop had eaten less than I had.

“Are you really this dainty?” I whispered to Bishop. “I have pageant sisters who could eat you under the table.”

He didn’t face me at first, but a smile threatened to curve into place if he didn’t restrain it. “First of all, please introduce me to them. Sooner the better. Yourpageant sistersare a perk of my scheming that I had not yet considered. Describe them at length, physical features only.” He let the smile spread as he looked at me, gallantly roguish in his delight. “And second, I’m pacing myself. I need not burst from my cummerbund before the second entrée, dear Coco.”

I frowned at the use of my nickname, but then what he was saying registered. “Second entrée? There’s another one coming?” I leaned toward him and kept my volume to a strained whisper. “I thought this whole thing was almost over.”

---