Page 46 of Desperately Yours

“Of course it is.” Bishop’s face tightened with disgust. “Of all the rotten things to do, accept his proposal and then make up this story about… I mean, I know Americans can heap on the drama, but this is low-hearted even for you.”

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” I took hold of Bishop’s arm, but he shook me off. “I’m telling you. I can feel it in my gut. Something is coming.”

“I should have known. I learned long ago that love isn’t real. Foolish of me to let you convince me that it might be after all. Try not to crush him too badly when you make a run for it.” Bishop spun on his heel, leaving me in the dank room by myself.

As soon as the door closed, I shrieked in frustration. Why was everyone losing their minds? Including me? Was he right? Did I have cold feet about Fitz? I wanted to marry him. The monarchy had me nervous, but I honestly didn’t feel like running. I needed to know if I was right. Were lives on the line? Was some grand scheme in the works?

I had to know. I set to work, checking boxes, looking at labels, trying to find one with the shipping date that matched. I worked through the first stack, then the second and third. They were all too recent. Nothing but root vegetables and various fruits. I moved to the fourth stack and found more of the same. Too recent. Nothing threatening.

Maybe Bishop was right. Maybe I was looking for something where nothing existed. Maybe thiswascold feet. I gripped the handles on a crate and shifted it to get to the one behind it. It was entirely possible that I was seeing connections where none existed. I slipped into the tight space and checked the crate on the ground. Not what I needed.

The contents were dried figs from the Gauchian Province. Hardly deadly. I started to move to the next stack when my shoe caught on something and my balance went haywire. I threw my hands out to brace my fall but came down hard on the side of a barrel of Aclusian wine. Groaning, I twisted on the hard cobblestone floor and reached toward my boot to untangle whatever had caught me. The black fabric had a hole which had caught the toe of my shoe. Insult to injury, that was the last thingI needed. Confirmation that I was not only paranoid and a little crazy, but also a klutz.

Bending, I tried to unhook the fabric, but the hole tore more in the process and my foot slipped even deeper until it wrapped around my ankle. Just my luck. I glanced at my watch and felt the pressure of the day crash down. Bishop was right. I didn’t have time for any of this. A shower was out of the question at this point. I needed to get in my dress and somehow survive one last night of hair and makeup with Dahlia.

I jerked my foot free with less grace than a toddler having a temper tantrum, mad that I hadn’t accomplished my goal. The fabric tore up the side, displaying the wood beneath it. My eyebrow shot up. More crates, but these were covered, as if to hide a secret. What were the chances that I’d lucked onto the crates I’d been searching for?

Creeping onto my knees, I pushed the fabric back, displaying two wooden boxes. After so many disappointments, what was the likelihood I actually found what I was looking for? Still raw from Bishop’s accusations, I thought about abandoning the idea all together. This nagging fear had me grasping at straws, but I couldn’t help myself. If there was a chance that I could save lives by following my wild theory, then I would at least try.

Working the top crate out of the alcove it had been jammed into, I carried it back to the main room and set it on top of one of the many barrels. On the side, I found the shipping label I was looking for. Not only was it the date I wanted, but it had been shipped from the Eshein Province. That had to mean something.

The wood bit into the heels of my hands as I pushed on the lid to pry it free. Since it had already been opened once, it didn’t take much. A clatter of the top on the cobblestone floor echoed off every wall, but I had one focus. I had to know what the queen was up to.

I poked through the contents, more baffled than ever. Herbs, oils, some plants in pots, and roots that looked like mangled fingers. The smell, like putrid fish or old socks, why was it familiar? Near the bottom I found some carrots. The only thing in the crate I recognized. I pushed the contents aside, still searching for something incriminating. My fingers grated over the rough wood on the bottom of the crate. All of my fingers but one. That one slipped easily over a card that had been buried. Wriggling it free, I opened the card and read the note that had been scrawled.

You know what to do.

You know what will happen if you don’t.

Fulfill your destiny.

Make us proud.

Death to the monarchy.

My eyes widened as I realized what I held. This was it. This was the proof I was looking for. Her people were waiting on Queen Mariah to enact her revenge so she could take her rightful place as the country’s sole leader. If only Bishop hadn’t left!

Footsteps thudded down the staircase. I looked up, hopeful that he had returned. But when I saw her, my mouth dropped open in shock. Why was she in the storage room? She didn’t belong here.

“Oh, Michaela. Why couldn’t you do as you were supposed to?” Sadie pursed her lips and shook her head. “I was really starting to like you.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you down here?” I glanced at the card in my hand, the same one she was looking at like she’d meant to burn it. “We have to go. This is proof that the queen is planning something horrible tonight.”

Sadie didn’t move. She betrayed no shock at my claim. Instead, she steadily moved toward me, her mouth tilted ina frown. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not personal. It’s only survival.”

Unexpectedly, she lunged forward. A flash of white covered my mouth and nose. Sadie’s grip locked around me like a python, driving me into the shadows, through the sea of crates, before I had a chance to react. Our bodies crashed against the stone wall. I screamed, but the cloth over my mouth and nose muffled the sound. As I drew in a deep breath to scream again, the powerful fumes filled my nostrils and my head turned to clouds. Weakness overtook my limbs. I clutched her arms, desperate to stay in control. But to no avail. Gravity won. My body tumbled and I waited for the impact, but I only felt the velvet darkness as it took over.

Fitz

Iheld his hand, but he’d stopped holding it back. The skin on his arm felt loose, as if life was actively slipping away and leaving him a shell. The differences between us felt even weaker than his grip. None of that mattered here at the end of his life.

“Father,” I tried again to get his attention, “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” My throat tightened and I clenched my jaw to stay in control. “I understand it now. Why you wouldn’t let me rule alone. The love of a good woman, it changes you.” I clamped my palm over my mouth as my breath shook with a silent sob. Sniffling, I tried again to explain what he needed to know. “Because I made my choice. I know who I’ll marry, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but I would give anything to have your blessing.”I wrapped my other hand around the back of his. “It’s not about her being queen, but just knowing that you saw me in love, I—” I couldn’t finish. How was I supposed to say goodbye to the man who’d championed me my whole life? He was my rock and foundation. My father never stopped believing in me, even when he didn’t agree, he knew I’d find my way through.

“How will I do this without you, Father? You were supposed to show me how to rule, and now you’re…” Tears splattered against my hands. There was no need for shame or embarrassment. We were alone in his chambers. Mother was overseeing the last of the ball’s preparations and the nurses wouldn’t check in for another half hour. I watched the rise and fall of his chest. Even, steady, no sign that he was dying, but that was how it had gone for months, attacks that came in waves. He would recover slightly and then it would hit even harder than before. The doctor felt assured that the next onslaught would be the end.

I set my forehead against his hand, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to hear me, no matter how hard I tried. “It’s Michaela,” I whispered. “I love her, and I’m going to make her my wife even if means walking away from everything. I hope you can forgive me.” I brought the back of his hand to my cheek. “For the record, I think she would make an amazing queen. She’s kind and fair. She’s honest and willing to sacrifice. Her thoughts are always with those who are forgotten. In my opinion, she’s what a queen should be.” I closed my eyes and imagined his gentle rebuke, reminding me that his wife was the ideal queen. How I ached to argue over who had fallen in love with the better woman. But the odds were not mine.

“Sure, you wait until he can’t fight back and then you tell him.” Bishop’s voice brought my head up, but his ill-timed sarcasm wasn’t what I needed.

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