Page 34 of The Dandelion Princess
“Ells,” I say. Peace was nice while it lasted.
She tosses the phone to the other end of the sofa and grabs her controller. “Another round?”
Vede.No. I battled rush hour traffic to be here as soon as the first news dropped because, whether she knows it or not, Ella has kicked a hornets nest. “Did you ask Alma before you pushed her into the news?” I ask, reaching for more noodles. “Did you run things past your mother?”
“What business—”
I give her a level look. “We’ve been friends longer than you can remember. Your business is my business.”
She sets her controller aside. “Torbald has a plan that goes beyond raising so many questions about Freja that she’s forced to beg Parliament to approve her marriage retroactively.”
My brow lifts. “Beyond that? He said that to your face?”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“I believe you.” I brush her ankle, hooking a finger under the chain, and release it.Don’t touch Ella.
“Do you remember the summer our nanny taught me to curtsey properly? Remember how bad I was? I got a sound effects clicker so I could let off belching noises when I bent down. I nearly drove her into an insane asylum. Marc, I am literally the worst princess in the history of Sondmark.”
She can’t be. Not when she’s my favorite.
Ells continues. “But Alma is perfect. She hits every mark. She does everything Mama asks. She wears what people tell her to. She says all the right things.”
“No one is perfect.”
“She’s within kissing distance of it.”
I know someone else within kissing distance. I draw back, putting more distance between us. The light, shifting so slowly I didn’t notice, is now heavy and blue.
“The only thing she’s ever asked for is Jacob. Is her punishment going to be losing her role as a working royal?” She reaches for the end of my tie, threading it between agitated fingers. “Torbald has nothing on her as long as we could establish that Pietor was the one who cheated. So I did.”
I like the way she rushes in to help, but— “You used a sledgehammer on the problem. The government now has proof that your sister—and possibly your mother—was lying to the public for weeks about her engagement. When the prime minister finds out that you were behind the account that leaked the photos—”
“He’s too much of an idiot to find me,” she says.
“You’re too smart to believe that. The prime minister is dangerous, and you can’t be playing games at this level. They will catch you.”
And,vede, what if they do? I lift my hand, letting it fall before I touch her again. I can’t handle the consequences of touching her. She already has me on my knees.
Ella turns her stubborn face away. “I’ve covered my tracks. Remote VPNs, site-specific log-ins, software patches. I’m constantly running too far out of reach.”
I lean into her line of sight. “Unbreakable cyber security is an illusion. You know that. I suggest you follow your mother’s lead when it comes to protecting your family.”
“She’s doing such a bang-up job; you should ask my father how it’s going.” Ella’s tone is blistering and bitter. “My mother protects the monarchy first,Neerheidvan Heyden, and our family last.”
The fire in her eyes is supposed to run me off, I suppose. I release a ragged breath. I wish something would.
“Your family and the monarchy are the same things, no matter how much you wish they weren’t.”
Ella lifts her chin, determined to shut me out, but I see an ocean of hurt beyond the stubborn pose. My voice softens. “Do the responsible thing, Ella. Back off from this fight. Delete the post and your accounts.”
Ella stands up and tosses the remains of our meal onto a tray, carrying it to the door. “I won’t keep you,” she says, as I get to my feet.
Her delivery is excellent—queenly and rippling with fury—but her timing is ruined by the automated door, swinging slowly open. She waits. The dishes clink together. She waits, and my lips twitch. I can’t rob her of the satisfaction of throwing me out.
Finally, the door opens far enough to scoot the tray through and she sets it in the hall. “You have enough on your plate,” she says, “being the golden boy of two countries. You don’t need to worry about me.”
11
