Page 36 of A True King

“A classic,” I state.

“A good story,” she counters.

“I can’t deny that. It is a great story. Do you enjoy reading?” I ask, looking for any reason to speak to her about something besides my schedule.

She rolls her eyes and I narrow mine. She glares at me, not backing down one bit. I love that about her. Where others would be afraid to argue with a prince, Mia isn’t afraid to argue with anyone. I once found her debating my father over agricultural subsidies.

“What’s your favorite book?”

She smiles. “The Secret Garden. What about you?”

“The Kama Sutra,” I retort with a grin.

She gives me a look.

“You asked,” I say, raising my hands in defeat.

Another eye roll answers me, and I fight the smirk that threatens to emerge.

“It’s a good book,” she replies. I’m half-questioning whether she’s ever seen it when she continues, “What’s your real favorite book?” This time her voice is softer, her eyes wider and more innocent. I can’t tease her any longer.

“Stuart Little,” I mumble.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear that,” she says, but I know by the smirk on her face she most certainly heard it.

“Stuart Little is my favorite book. Always has been and always will be,” I say proudly this time. I don’t tell her it’s because my mother read it to me, or that I saved a copy and read it night after night following her death.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it,” she answers as she picks back up her book. “Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of a chapter.”

I stand to leave but bend down to look her in the face. Her beautiful eyes meet mine. “I wouldn’t want to stop you in the middle. There’s so much pleasure in finishing…a chapter.” From the corner of my eye, I see her thighs press together. And with that, I leave her to read while I continue my daydreaming.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I say as I step out from the wall of boxwood, so neatly trimmed that from a distance it looks like green carpeting.

She slowly looks up at me, placing her finger on the page and shutting the book over it. “How long will we stay here?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. I haven’t heard anything from Jack. I’ve sent a text to Pete, but he said he was consulting with some folks and would follow back up as soon as he could provide me with more information.”

Mia grabs a leaf off a plant and sticks it in her book, slamming it onto the bench and throwing her hands in the air. “I feel like a sitting duck. Everyone is out there figuring things out”—she motions to the walls surrounding us—“and here we are, doing fuck all. I’m not Rapunzel. I can’t be tethered to a tower indefinitely. Aren’t you technically in charge since your father is away?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing because the way she says it makes me feel like as the oldest, I’ve been left in charge while my parents are on a date. Technically, she’s not wrong, but I also don’t like making rash decisions. They never end well.

“And what, pray tell, would you have us do?” I ask as I lean against a statue of a man on a horse, some ancestor of mine whose name I can’t remember.

She rolls her head in a circle and shrugs. “I’m not paid to make the plans, Your Highness. I’m just here to help you execute them.”

I glare at her. I hate feeling out of control. I hate not being in control. I hate that I have no idea what the fuck is happening. And I also hate being holed up at the Summer Palace, away from my family. She must know this.

“What the fuck is this all about?” I blurt out as my anger reaches a boiling point.

She stands, putting her hands on her hips. I can feel the anger radiate off her and I’m wondering if she can feel mine as well. We stare at each other, irrational rage fueling us both.

“I can’t do this!” she finally yells, throwing her hands in the air. “By now, I haven’t reported back in three weeks to these people. I’m sure they know where we are. It’s not like we can hide. There’s a fucking flag flying. We might as well put a bullseye on our shirts.” She points to the flag on top of the palace that flies when a member of the royal family is in residence. I hadn’t even thought about it. Out of sight, out of mind. Why had the staff not been instructed to take it down? Who the hell even put it up?

“I’ll get it taken down,” I mutter. “But we aren’t going anywhere. It’s safe here. We haven’t had one iota of danger since we arrived, have we?”

Her nostrils flare. “It’s only been two days. Maybe, if you had left me in Puerto Rico, they’d be fixed on finding me, but now, I have no idea what they are going to do.”

“Like they wouldn’t have come for me anyhow? Who the fuck cares if you did or did not report to them? If it’s been three whole damn weeks, then why am I not dead? Riddle me that!”

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