Either way, I knew that look on Olivia's face. She'd snuggled up right under my chin and was batting her lashes like I was the most handsome thing she'd ever seen.
So I kissed her. She tasted of wine and of mint, and she was soft and supple and would probably do anything I asked. I could show off my medical degree, and Olivia would fall at my feet. She would laugh at every joke I made and do her best to make me the happiest man in the world. She would never call me princeling or roll her eyes at me.
She wasn't Theo.
I shook my head and moved away from her. "I'm sorry, I can't do this."
"Is there a problem with me?"
"No, you're... You're just not..."
"Not what?" Olivia said, her face turning red with embarrassment.
"Not her," I whispered to myself as the car rolled to a stop.
Olivia said nothing to me when she exited the car, but I figured the flashing lights of the tabloids was payment enough for my lack of passion. At least she'd get attention.
Martin slid back into the car, lowered the divider, then drove. Once we were a ways away, I clambered into the front seat, my feet landing on cans in the bottom.
"Thought you might want a drink after all that," he said, cracking a grin. One of the six was missing from the pack.
"Where's Kader?"
"Beats me. Was supposed to be my night off, but he told me I had to come get your ass."
I frowned. "I'm surprised he left me alone at the theater."
"Nah, we had three guys watching you," Martin said.
I laughed and cracked open the beer, sucking down half of it. "Thanks for not thinking I'm an idiot."
"Oh, I still think you're an idiot. But I'm not going to lie to you." The car rolled to a stop. "It really went that badly?"
"She'll make someone else a great wife."
"You think she'd be interested in me?"
I took another sip. "I think she'd find your lack of royal pedigree a problem."
"Damn," Martin said with a chuckle.
"Maybe she'll marry my brother," I replied, watching the streetlights pass by. "But you know, I think I'd have a hard time being married to someone with views I'm diametrically opposed to."
"I think your mother does it admirably."
I snorted and glanced over at him. He shrugged and turned the wheel as we took a left to head back to our apartment.
But I didn't want to go there. "I want to go to Cinzia."
Martin made a noise, but didn't disagree. Instead, he turned the car around to get back on the main road in Norose.
We drove in silence for an hour, and I drank another beer to forget my disastrous date. The streetlights grew sparser the farther out from the city center we drove. Soon there was nothing but my headlights on the road. I glanced behind the car to look for dark shadows of cars with their headlights off. But the photographers had their story, so maybe they'd leave me alone for the rest of the night.
Martin pulled the car over and turned it off. I opened the door and stepped out onto the soft sand. The cold winter wind cut right through my jacket, and the salty air bit at my face. In the brief moments when the wind died, I heard the lapping water against the beach, but thanks to the overcast sky, I couldn't see the Madion Sea.
It was too cold to remove my shoes, but they made walking in the sand difficult. After a long trek, I made it to the shoreline. Water slipped over my shoes, soaking them.
Within a week of being back, I'd found this beach. I'd done the math and measured four different maps to make sure.
Right where I stood was the closest I could get to Rave on Kylaen soil.
Theo was sleeping a mere three hundred and seventy-two miles from where I stood. Sadness tugged at my heart, and I closed my eyes, whispering my feelings to the wind and hoping they landed in her dreams.
I stood on the beach until my hands and wet feet had grown numb then turned to walk back to Martin, who was drinking a beer inside the car. I sat down in the passenger's side, feeling as numb as my hands.
After a moment, I asked, "Do you think I should give up on Theo?"
"Fuck, no." Martin drank more of his beer. "You love her, right?"
I nodded.
"Then you need to figure out a way to be with her," Martin said, looking out into the darkness. "I mean, you survived a plane crash and two months on a deserted island, yeah?"
"She helped."
"So? You did it."
"Yeah, I did do it." I sat up, feeling pumped. "I killed rabbits and made fire, and I save lives and I am gonna get my girl back."
"That's the spirit," Martin said, raising his beer in solidarity.
"I just hope she wants me back," I said quietly, looking at the time. The papers were probably printing their wildly inaccurate stories about my date with Olivia. I just prayed none of that would reach Rave.
SIX
Theo
Prince Galian Finally Courting Collins?
Could there be royal wedding bells? Last night, Prince Galian was seen dining with Olivia Collins, heir to the Collins shipbuilding empire. The two dined at Freihof before taking in a play. Witnesses confirmed seeing the two holding hands and speaking quietly during the performance.
"Olivia has been taking tea with the queen regularly, and it's no secret that the two were close before the prince's disappearance," an inside source confirms. It seems the party-boy prince is finally ready to settle down.
I put down the paper and stared out into the street. I had decided to get breakfast at the diner at the street level of my apartment building to kill some time before my car arrived, and someone had left behind the gossip section of the paper. My eyes had been drawn to the title, and as I read, my hopes sank lower and lower.
Galian had never mentioned another woman—he'd told me point blank that he'd never been in love before. I remembered every piece of that conversation, how lonely he looked when he'd said no one knew the real him. He'd also mentioned—many times—how much the tabloids liked to make up stories.
Yet there was a photo of him with this girl, and he looked...happy. He'd smiled at me like that countless times on the island. That was the look of a man in love, or one trying very hard to be. There was a photo of the girl just below. She was the picture of Kylaen beauty. Strawberry blonde hair, a white smile that seemed nearly painted on. She carried herself with much more grace than I probably ever could.
"Taking tea with the queen," I muttered to myself.
I doubted Galian's mother would ever take tea with me. I tried to picture myself wearing a fancy dress and sipping on some acrid brew while trying to keep my opinions to myself. The idea was laughable.
I ran my finger along the printed visage of my amichai. He looked happy, at least. If I couldn't be there with him,all I wanted was for him to find happiness without me.
That was what I told myself, anyway.
For today, I had bigger things to concern myself with than if my amichai had found a new love. Today, I was meeting with President Bayard.
I'd found out just as I was leaving a commissioning ceremony the day before. Emilie had radioed my driver to pass along the news that I would need to be ready in my dress uniform at 0700 to arrive at the presidential palace in plenty of time. Of course, I'd slept little and was showered and dressed in my black dress uniform, checking the ribbons and buttons three times to make sure they were right. I was much more at home in my flight suit, but for today, it was imperative I make a good impression.
I'd paced in my apartment for an hour before deciding it was smart to eat something. This small diner sat at the bottom of my apartment complex and was sometimes frequented by other military elites. It was convenient enough for me that I ate there a few times a week, but this morning, the eggs and bacon were unappetizing—and it had nothing to do with the meeting I'd been hoping for.
I glanced at the paper on the table again and thanked God when my car pulled up outside. It did me no good to wallow over some possibly fabricated story abou
t a man I might never see again. I left the paper and the photo of my amichai behind. I already had a photo of him looking striking in his red jacket. I didn't need another with a vapid, perfect princess in it.
I shook my head. That sounded awfully jealous and catty.
I continued to oscillate between mental preparation for my meeting with the president of my country and worry that Galian had moved on. I'd convinced myself that she was better than me in every way, then practiced my talking points on how raising the conscription age would actually result in more Raven pilots, because less would die, then considered what Perfect Princess would say about that—
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Focus, kallistrate."
The car stopped at the wrought iron gates and they opened slowly. We bypassed the normal route to Emilie's office and my heartbeat quickened as we drew closer. Thick, expensive trees lined the driveway—no doubt placed here by the last Kylaen governor—forming a beautiful archway of foliage that sheltered us all the way to the mansion. A working fountain spouting crystal clear water sat in the circular drive as we parked in front of a carved archway over the entrance, where two guards stood at attention.
My driver opened the door to the car, and I stepped out, nodding my thanks to him. Up close, Platcha was much more ornate that I'd previously thought. Much like Bayard himself, it seemed out of place in a country that conscripted children at twelve.
A tall, thin man came out to greet me, introducing himself as Agustin and informing me that my morning meeting with Bayard had been pushed to this afternoon on account of other priorities.
"Oh," I said, my heart sinking.
"But I have been asked to take you on a tour of the grounds, until he's available."
A tour was the last thing I wanted to do, but I smiled grimly and allowed him to walk me around. The inside of Platcha was even more beautiful than the outside, with high, arched ceilings, detailed columns, and portraits of Raven heroes adorning the walls. I barely paid attention to the poor tour guide, even though he was obviously very interested in what he was saying.
He led me out into a garden filled with the most beautiful flowers and plants I'd ever seen. It was winter, so I was surprised to see flowering plants. Agustin pointed to a particularly striking purple plant in the center.
"That is the phoenician plant, the official flower of the nation of Rave," he said. "It blooms even in the harshest temperatures. Every six weeks, it sheds its flowers and grows new ones, just like the symbol of our nation—"
"The phoenix," I murmured.
It really was a beautiful plant, but as my gaze traveled around this green, lush oasis of beauty, I considered the disparity. I'd known nothing of this in my youth. I'd known cold nights and cramped spaces and meager foods. I'd known work and hardship.
"How long has this garden been here?" I asked.
"Since independence. It was the prized jewel of Lady Leonia, the wife of our first president. She spared no expense to make sure it was properly maintained."
I swallowed. "Oh? Seems like a bit of a frivolous expense...considering the circumstances."
"She wanted every person who walked through the front doors of Platcha to know that Rave was a true country, worthy of their trade and assistance." He seemed a bit cold to me now. "Appearances are everything."
"Indeed, but the kallistrate hasn't quite learned that lesson."
"Cannon," I said, turning to face him as he approached.
He nodded to Agustin and the other man quickly turned and scampered away. I got the feeling he was happy to be free of me, and that bothered me a little. I wasn't that bad company, was I?
"I hear you have a meeting with Bayard today," he drawled.
"Happen to know what it pertains to?" I asked. Cannon did have a higher clearance than I, so I figured it might be good to stroke his ego a bit.
"Not in the least," Cannon replied, but the smirk on his face told a different story. "Such a peaceful garden. I often come out here to think after my meetings with Bayard."
"I still think it's wasteful," I replied, glancing at a placard sticking out of the ground. In fact, all the plants had placards detailing their origin and importance to Raven culture. I knew the phoenician plant was integral to a summer festival called Prima Anela, but the rest of the plants I'd never heard of before.
"And that, Theo, is why you will never make it as a politician," he said.
"I didn't say I wanted to be a politician."
He smiled. "Then why are you here?"
"Because I want to make a difference," I replied, lifting my head higher.
Cannon snorted as if my sincerity was amusing to him.
After several hours wandering around the presidential gardens, Agustin found me and brought me to the presidential offices. It had been two hours since he'd dropped me off, and I was still sitting on an uncomfortable antique couch in the antechamber of the president's office.
I didn't see how Bayard's office could be any more ornate than the rest of this silly, pointless house, but this antechamber was awe-inspiring. Blue velvet drapes hung from large windows, the carpets were meticulously cleaned and intricately designed. The chandelier that hung above my head sparkled like diamonds and I prayed to God they weren't real. Everything in this room could've fed my whole squadron for a year.
I put aside my concerns for my country's fiscal responsibilities and returned to my mental checklist of topics for Bayard. I was intent on demonstrating that I was more than just a pretty face that smiled and sat next to him. Intent on showing that I hadn't attained the rank of captain for nothing—
"Major," I whispered to myself.
People came and went through the large doors leading inside, but I wasn't allowed to follow. His private secretary had attended to my needs for the first fifteen minutes, but the more I asked about the meeting, the terser he became.
I began to fidget. The sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the clouds pink and orange. I wasn't sure what kind of hours the president of Rave kept, but I was sure he'd probably send me home instead of staying later than usual.
Finally, the doors opened and three ministers strolled out. I knew one was Breen, for he'd spent some time in the public relations office with Emilie. The other two, I didn't know.
"Ah, it's the famous 'neechay!" Breen's face split into a smile as he approached me. I was surprised when he pulled me into a familiar hug, as if we were old friends. But I also couldn't help but notice the odd way he pronounced 'neechai.
"Minister, how are you?" I replied.
"Splendid! Tedwin and I were just discussing you, in fact."
"Albric." Bayard, the man I'd been hoping to speak to for four long months, stood in the doorway of his office. He held an unspoken conversation with Breen, who held up his hands in surrender.
"Fine, fine. I'll let you two get to your meeting. Be seeing you soon, 'neechay!"
"Come in, 'neechai, come in," Bayard said, waving me into his office. I stood, feeling like a child who'd been sent to the headmistress's office for acting out, but held myself upright as I followed him inside.
If the outside of Bayard's office had been beautiful, the inside took my breath away. I lingered in the doorway, admiring everything from the gold-plated lamps on the wall to the even more ornate chandelier above my head to the beautiful rug, to the dark mahogany desk—
"Have a seat, Major," Bayard said, interrupting my thoughts. "Unfortunately, most of my meetings have run late today, so I'm afraid I don't have as much time as I'd like to chat with you."
I swallowed a comment about how he'd sat next to me for four months, and took a seat at his engraved table.
"This is just...beautiful," I said, running my hands along the dark wood.
"Finest Herinese wood right there. I had it commissioned upon winning my third term as president." He sighed, seeming to revel in the memory of his victory, before he joined me at the table. "Tell me, Theophilia—"
"Theo is fine, si
r," I replied hastily. To his quirked brow, I replied, "I'm not the biggest fan of my full name."
He surveyed me carefully. "You're what, nineteen, twenty?"
"Just passed my twentieth birthday," I said, leaning forward. Now was my chance to prove my worth to him. "And while I am grateful for the opportunity to be present at your news conferences, I..." I swallowed, carefully phrasing my words. "I feel like I could be more useful to the cause if I could..." I let out a breath. "Speak."
"And what, my dear, would you like to speak about, hm?"
I felt emboldened; he didn't seem to hate the idea. "I would like to talk about what the war is doing to our people. I want to talk about how it felt to fight off Kylaens every day of my life, to make a plea to the international community to intervene."
Bayard chuckled to himself and reached into the small drawer under his table, rolling a small ball down the table. I picked up the item and realized it was candy—chocolate. We'd receive a ration of the sweet during Prima Anela to keep up morale, but smelling the sweet aroma in the winter felt...wrong.
"Your idea is a tad problematic, though. You see, if we were to shine a light on our own struggles, it would reflect poorly on this nation and my leadership of it. Now we don't want that, do we?"
My face grew warm, and I shook my head. Why hadn't I thought of that?
"Major, do you understand the importance of an image?" Bayard began before pausing and looking at the chocolate expectantly. I quickly unwrapped the treat and stuck it in my mouth. When he was satisfied, he continued, "An image, a brand, tells people who you are in a few words. When they look at Mark, they see a man who has defended his country, smart and savvy, and roguishly handsome. Do you know who he was before we got a hold of him?" He snorted. "He mumbled and couldn't look into the camera. But Emilie did what she does best and look at him."
I kept my thoughts about Cannon to myself.
"We made Mark into what we needed at the time, the picture of Raven strength and resilience. And you, Theo, I want to turn into a symbol of Mael."
The Complete Madion War Trilogy Page 26
