Page 31 of Falling Princess
In other words, he spotted an opportunity and went after it.
He still beat all those other superb athletes from all over the world, though. Not only does he have a competitive streak a mile wide, he has the talent to back it up.
“Don’t quit yet,” I pleaded, and before I realized what I was doing, I placed one hand on his forearm. He looked at it with widened eyes. I snatched my hand back as if singed. The memory of sinew and bone, warmth through the softness of his sleeve, felt permanently imprinted on my palm. I tucked it under my elbow, intending to wipe my hand on my thigh as soon as I was out of sight.
“Give it the weekend. We’ll figure out a compromise. Maybe Cata can help.”
“That could be all right. If you stayed with her when we’re away.” He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the place where I touched him. Heat flared through my abdomen, hollowing me out.
The dream.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Lorcan’s blue eyes were narrow and intense. “She knows how to kill, if necessary.”
I have no idea what to say to that. “Yes. That might work. Would you like to exchange notes for next week?”
We traded notebooks and lapsed into our customary silence. Nothing has changed, not fundamentally. But at least there’s a crack in the ice.Please, let this be a truce we can live with.The tension is unbearable. No wonder Bashir and Kenton spend so much time away from our dormitory suite. No wonder Raina is so angry with me all the time.
Not one of them is as angry with me as I am with myself.
SPARK
CHAPTERTEN
We departed for London on a Friday afternoon. We could have taken the train, but Cata declared it a security risk and drove instead. I took the front seat. Raina and Lorcan sat in the back.
Kenton and Bashir rode down with Lacey and Becca. They were handling their own lodgings for the weekend, to my relief. It’s bad enough having to overhear what they get up to when the women spend the night. They’ve become semi-permanent fixtures in our suite.
Fortunately, Scarlett often accompanies them. Her presence is a welcome counterweight to Raina’s disapproval and Lorcan’s blankness. At least she’s friendly toward me, which I appreciate more than I can articulate.
“I should have asked Scarlett to be my date,” I complained to Cata. “I’m the only one with no escort.”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. “It’s probably easier for you not to bring anyone. Once the press starts speculating about your romantic life, there’s no escaping the tabloids. We want to get you in front of respectable reporters. Newspapers. High-end magazines likeVogue. Not scandal sheets like TMZ or the Daily Mail.”
I am a brand, now. Ever since the Olympics, my image has appeared on television (which I don’t watch, never having adopted the habit, as we don’t have them back home) and in the global press.
Cata has started scheduling me to do photo shoots and interviews while Lorcan and Raina are away for weekend meets. It’s fine. I put on a dress and get my hair and makeup done and stand there feeling stupid for a while. Harmless, in the end.
Last week, Scarlett showed me a “mood board” created by someone who claimed to be “obsessed with all things Auralian.” It was so strange. A collection of poor-quality screen grabs from my various press appearances, combined with pictures of waterfalls and a white horse, presumably a reference to my stallion.
Most perplexing, and disturbing, was the inclusion of a picture of a fantasy warrior with Lorcan’s face superimposed on it.
Scarlett found this travesty hilarious. I wasn’t offended, per se, but I didn’t like it. I have no choice in whether to participate in this public image of me and my country that my father is working to craft. Come to think of it, neither do Raina, Kenton, and Bashir. Or Lorcan, for that matter.
We’re all targets of fascination, in every bizarre form. I take the brunt of it, though. It’s probably for the best that Saskaya disabled most of my phone’s functionality.
At least the guys got girlfriends out of the deal. I barely get to meet new people, thanks to Lorcan’s omnipresence. I don’t like having to answer questions about him; I don’t always have answers.
He’s my bodyguard. Yes, he’s weird. No, he won’t stop glaring at you. Yes, he might hurt you if you touch me. Want to join my study group?
“Did I tell you about the global climate conference in Glasgow? In March?” I tried to ease into the topic, but Cata gave me an indulgent smile and glanced in the rearview mirror. She knows I’m keen to attend. She was also preoccupied with making sure we weren’t being followed.
“Twice.”
“Has my father given an answer yet?” I know he hasn’t. I asked anyway. Again.
“I believe he wants to make it contingent upon your grades.”
“But I have to submit the paper by December.”
