Page 5 of Desperately Yours

Okay, so not that different than a few of my harder pageants.

I excused Dahlia the hour beforehand. Her constant presence wore on me and I couldn’t take her nervous energy when I already felt like a wreck. Was it too much to ask for Fitz to pop in and visit me? Even if it was just a friendly, hey, how are ya? Glad you weren’t swallowed up by that giant sinkhole, kind of check-in. Something to make me feel like I wasn’t alone on an iceberg in orca-infested waters. Because that’s how I felt in a place like Nolcovia. Everyone looked beautiful and sweet, but really, they were ready to turn on me, chew me up, and swallow me whole.

My wide-eyed reflection stared back at me as I smoothed my last wayward hair into place. Even with makeup, the bruises remained. I figured it was what they were looking for, so at least I was giving them something to talk about. Two knocks on my door reverberated through my still room. Was it too much to hope that my prince had come for me? I didn’t let myself believe it. I thought things were different when he was holding me afterthe rescue, but it was just as likely that he was happy I wasn’t dead. And I couldn’t blame him, I was too.

I smoothed my light-blue sweater as I walked to the door. At least, I felt like myself. No gown, no updo, no thick stage makeup, just curly auburn hair and a pretty natural face, wearing jeans and a sweater. If Nolcovia wanted to know my story, I wanted to be authentic about it.

Bracing myself for disappointment, I turned the knob and pulled the door open. Fitz didn’t wait for me, but I still squealed when I saw his face.

“Kabir!” Without thinking, I threw my arms around my bodyguard in a tight hug. Albeit, with our size and height difference, I felt like I was hugging a much larger marble statue. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the festival.”

After a moment’s hesitation, after all, I don’t think many of the royal family passed out hugs to the security team, Kabir’s arm wrapped around my shoulders and returned my platonic affection.

“You know me, m’lady. I was lurking in the shadows the whole time.”

Releasing my hold on him, I pulled away and pointed my finger at him like an angry teacher. “Next time you lurk, just give me a heads-up or something. I’m getting a complex. I haven’t had anyone with me but looney Dahlia.” Was it me or did he twitch a little at the mention of her name? “I was starting to go nuts in here.”

“As you wish, m’lady.” He motioned for the hall to my right. “They’re waiting in the ballroom. I’ll show you the way.”

Taking my cue that we were expected shortly, I started down the hall with Kabir trailing only a step behind me. Strangely, it made me feel healthier. If he was willing to resume his duties and not hover, then maybe I didn’t look as bad as I thought I did.

“What’s with the brace?” I asked after a moment’s silence.

“I was searching for a certain American noblewoman and found a child in peril.” I glanced back in time to notice a teasing grin. At least he didn’t seem to be holding me responsible for his injury. “Unfortunately, a stone wall collapsed on both of us and my arm took the brunt of it.”

“Oh my gosh.” My steps stuttered before I found my rhythm again. “You were buried, too?”

With a shake of his head, Kabir waved off my connection between his experience and my own. “For a mere ten minutes, m’lady. The prince freed me from the rubble.”

Fitz, the hero again. From the stories Dahlia told me, it sounded like he saved more than anyone could count. Quite the precedent to set at the start of a shift in monarchy.

“He was busy that day, saving everyone from what I’ve been told.”

Kabir slowed his steps as we came to the end of the hall where the path emptied into the entryway. Sensing something important, I stopped and faced him. Tension pulled at his jawline, as if the words wanted to come, but discipline kept him from speaking.

“He did, m’lady, and we are all grateful and indebted to him, but,” once again, he fought the internal compass that wanted him to stay silent, “he found me in the rubble because he was searching for you.”

“What?” My mouth stayed open, parted lips ready to speak and yet words didn’t follow. Of course, Fitz was searching for me, but the way Kabir phrased it made it sound like I was all that mattered to him. “But what are you—”

“Oh, good!” A chipper voice behind me broke into my thoughts. A moment later, two hands gripped my shoulders and turned me to face the direction of the ballroom. “You’re a pinch behind, love. Let’s get this loco in motion, okay?”

“Wait. What?” I glanced over my shoulder at the person who propelled me like an outboard motor through the open ballroom doors. “What’s going on?”

“Ugh. No one reads the memos, I swear.” She dropped her hold on my shoulders and I nearly toppled backward. “Penny Peyroux. Personal assistant to Roxie Burns. Let’s get you in the chair, yeah?” Energy level through the roof, like a speed addict who drank six cups of coffee, Penny looked ready to shed her own skin. I half expected a lecture on how time was money and money was power and some other frantic monologue about how I was costing her all of it. But she didn’t have a spare second for any of it.

Like a cattle dog pushing a cow, she corralled me into the wingback before I had much choice in the matter. I gripped the arms, trying to ground myself in reality. They’d created a stage area, much like a talk show from the nineties. If Maury showed up on set, I wouldn’t be shocked. To my right, more empty chairs waited. To my left, one identical to my own. At least I wasn’t the only expected guest.

Like all the choosing ceremonies, I recognized most of the staff fromRoyally Yoursbehind the cameras and producers on the sidelines. But new faces had joined the plethora of lights and chaos I’d come to expect from reality TV. Pageants prepared me for all kinds of audiences and situations, but this felt new and disconcerting. At least with the choosing ceremonies, there was a pattern and a plan. This was… unscripted.

“M'lady!” I recognized her tiny voice immediately and caught little Leila before she slammed into me. “I’m so happy to see you!”

Forgetting every other care in the world, I hugged little Leila tight. Our trauma bonded us in a way few others would ever understand. We’d been through something awful and somehow we had lived to tell the story. It made sense that she would bein the interview as well. And at least for a moment, I felt like someone else stood on that proverbial iceberg with me.

“Leila,” her mother caught up with her, lightly scolding the child who perched on my lap, “don’t overwhelm Lady Michaela. She’s still healing.”

“But, Mom,” Leila whined, “she’s not even blue anymore. She’s fine!”

Low bar, kiddo. But the last time she saw me, I was near death, so I didn’t have a great argument in place.

---