Page 40 of The Midnight Princess
The dragon is back.
Jacob shields me with his bulk as we cross the checkerboard floor, passing the influencer spinning in whimsical abandon. At the door, he gathers me into the crook of his shoulder and bundles me through in one swift motion. He thrusts the box into my hands, raises the umbrella, and we run through the rain. Misty air seems to sizzle against my feverish skin, but I fly over the cobblestones. We made it.Dominanstid, we made it.
He bundles me into the car, arm flung over my head as he guides me in. Laughing, he slides into the passenger seat, shaking his fingers through his hair. Flecks of cold rain hit the backs of my hands. I grip the wheel and breathe deeply, eyes trained on the gold-lettered sign.The Warm Kiss.
I promised Nils Helmut—looked him straight in the eye as I delivered a predictable, bland itinerary and assured him I could be trusted. Instead of letting me loose in the city, the head of palace security should have tackled me as a threat to the peace of the nation and tasered me in the neck.
“That was almost a disaster,” I say.
“Almost a disaster means it wasn’t a disaster.” Jacob’s smile tips up on one side, inviting me to see the joke.
I can’t. “You’re the crown prince of a semi-hostile government. If you’d been found roving all over Handsel with me, the novelty of it would have been every headline tomorrow, impacting trade negotiations, your first impression on the global stage, and my reputation.”
“Your reputation,” he murmurs. “We wouldn’t want to ruin that.” Jacob clicks the seatbelt in place and glances over. His mouth softens. “There was no way to plan for that.”
I put the car in gear and ease into the road. “That’s no excuse. I’m supposed to plan for the unexpected.” I peer through the rain-lashed windscreen to the blurry lights of the palace on the hill.
“You’re supposed to be superhuman?”
“I’m supposed to know my job. I froze in there.”Vede.He didn’t.
Once we arrive at the Summer Palace, I hand him over to Karl.
“Accents and idioms, today,” Karl informs us. “We’ll spend the next few hours talking.”
Jacob glances over his shoulder as he follows his aide, hands tented in supplication. I can’t help it when my lips twitch. I nod him onward, having no doubt he’ll understand the textures and nuances of the message.Don’t be a baby.
My smile disappears with him, and I retreat to my room, sinking onto the bed to stare hard at the wall. My mother was wrong, and this is a bad time to find that out.
When I was a child, I believed my mother saw everything and everyone, her unblinking stare uncovering injustice, comforting the downtrodden, and encircling her kingdom in a warm maternal gaze. I could rely on her to take care of me andbecareful of me, to know my best interests even better than I do.My trust in her judgment has become the foundation of every choice I make.
But she’s wrong about dragons. It would have been better if I hadn’t looked at this one. I remember the weight of Jacob’s hand in the narrow point of my waist. How he recognized the threat posed by the girl with lavender hair and acted. How I forgot everything when he held my hand and pulled me into the rain. He wasn’t dangerous when I didn’t know—when I was determined not to know—that I like him.
Like him. I snort. The old Sondish saying is more accurate.Our roots tangle.
It’s not love but it’s not nothing. I’m a princess at the mouth of a cave, holding a quivering lantern, unwilling to delve deeper. The part I see is too much already.
I sigh and scrub my face in my hands, but when my thoughts refuse to shift, I reach for my knitting, finding a rhythm in the task, and try to work out a paradox.
Mama sees everything, but she didn’t see Jacob coming.
It’s a long night, but when I step through the doors of the Chevres drawing room the next morning, I carry a renewed resolve to do my best for my student, my motherland, and my mother. The silver lining is that, thanks to yesterday’s field trip, I seem to have convinced Jacob of the importance of the clothes he wears—an excellent redoubt from which to bomb the rest of his resistance.
Hearing his step at the door, I try to steel myself and fail. Even in an ill-fitting suit, Jacob catches me off guard.
He performs the greeting smoothly but his eyes narrow as he straightens. “Something wrong?”
Yes. Something is wrong. I was up half the night thinking about how sorry I am that Jacob Gardner is the crown prince of Vorburg. How that means there’s no way he’ll ever kiss me again.
Karl taps on the door, escorting a stocky man with impeccable tailoring. Getting his name required issuing a diplomatic license plate on specious grounds for one man, rubber-stamping a passport for another, and dangling before a third the promise of a favor to be redeemed at a later date.
I turn to Jacob. “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Tumwater,” I say. “He’s the best-kept secret in London.”
“Secret?” Jacob echoes.
Karl looks serious. “Never give out the name of your tailor, sir.”
I smile. “Together with your aide, he will guide you through the process of expressing your personal style.”
