by J. Kenner
Tonight, she slipped into the limo with only one other person, and she felt so much more special than she had that night.
“Ever made out in a limo?” Leo asked, making her giggle.
“The driver and Jürgen can see us.”
“Not anymore,” he said, pushing the button to raise the privacy screen. He pulled her close and kissed her. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Are you kidding? This man is like a surrogate father to you. I’m dying to meet him.”
“He’s looking forward to meeting you, too. And, unfortunately, he lives in Tarrytown,” he added, his hand sliding up her thigh and under her skirt.
“That is a shame,” she said, as his fingertip grazed the juncture of her thigh, tracing the elastic of her panties. “We’re practically already there.”
“Not quite,” he said, slipping his finger under and making her gasp.
But she was right—they were almost there, and as the limo pulled in front of Professor Malkin’s house, she was breathing hard. But not quite there.
“You’re a tease, Your Highness.”
“Just a preview of things to come. Literally,” he said, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered the promise.
She giggled, then straightened her skirt just in time for Jürgen to open the door. They slipped out of the car, and she took Leo’s hand as he led her up the sidewalk. The door opened as they approached, and a tall man with a graying beard stepped out to shake Leo’s hand before pulling him into a fatherly hug.
“And you must be Skye,” the professor said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you after so long. Our Leo used to talk about you all the time.”
“Did he?” She shot a mischievous glance toward Leo. “You’ll have … to tell me everything he … said.”
If the professor noticed her slurred speech, he didn’t show it. Instead, he simply took her arm and led her inside. “It will be my pleasure.”
They only had an hour for cocktails and conversation before the limo was set to whisk them to the award venue, but within ten minutes, Skye knew it wasn’t nearly long enough. She was about to say as much when Jürgen pulled Leo aside. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she knew it was bad from the expression on Leo’s face.
“What?” she asked when he returned. She put her hand on his arm and held fast, somehow certain that it would be a mistake to let him go.
“My father,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s had another heart attack. They don’t expect him to survive. I’m so sorry, Professor. I have to go.”
“Of course.” Professor Malkin put his hand on Leo’s shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do.”
“Thank you.” He shook his head. “I wish there was.”
“Sire,” Jürgen said. “The press is already gathering.”
Skye frowned, only then realizing that of course some members of the press had followed the limo to the professor’s house. And if the news of the king’s heart attack was public, the pack of reporters would increase exponentially by the second.
“Skye,” Leo said, his hands on her shoulders. “I have to go. I left you once without saying goodbye. This time, I’m asking you to come with me.”
Her mouth went dry. Outside, she heard the clatter and shouts of the waiting press, already stifling even from behind the closed doors. She felt her chest tighten at the thought of seeing them. At having them shout out to her, even though they cared only about Leo. Of having to move through them. Speak to them.
“I … I don’t think I … can. And … what would I be to you … there?” The new king’s girlfriend? His mistress? She could have no role in his homeland, and they both knew it.
He touched her face. “I want to beg, my love, but I don’t have time to convince you. I need to go.”
She nodded, but didn’t leave his side as he hurried to the door. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could go with him, and—
Jürgen pulled the door open, and she was assaulted with the cries of reporters and the flashes of cameras. Leo turned and looked at her, and she could see from his face that he knew better than to ask again. She felt trapped. And suddenly the deer in a headlight expression made so much sense.
Then Leo was there, kissing her sweetly. “It’s only goodbye for now,” he said, though she knew that was only a platitude.
“Leo—I’m so sorry.” She meant about his father, but the words held so much more meaning than that.
He squeezed her hand. “I have to go.”
She heard the pain in his voice and nodded, then bit her lip as tears started to fall. She felt the professor’s hand close over her shoulder as they watched Jürgen’s security team surround Leo and lead him to a waiting Town Car. Then he was gone, the limo left behind to take her and the professor on to the ceremony.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Professor Malkin said, after he’d gently closed the door.
She managed a watery smile, then worked on her breathing until she was confident she could form words. “The multiverse,” she said. “That’s a … physics thing … isn’t it?”
His brow furrowed, but he nodded.
“So maybe there’s … another Leo and Skye … together in a universe … where I chose to go … with him.”
The professor’s eyes seemed as sad as her own. “Perhaps there is, my dear. But the only universe you’ll know is the one you make.”
Chapter Nineteen
Leo spent the fifteen hours on the jet from Austin to Avelle-am-see trying to sleep so that he would be awake when he saw his father. It was a fitful sleep, though, as his fear that his father would pass away before he made it home tormented Leo.
“He’s not looking good,” Gisele told him when they spoke on the sat phone. “I miss you, little brother.”
“He can’t die,” Leo said. “I’m not ready to have both our parents gone.”
“No one ever is,” Gisele said, understanding that he meant more than just the loss of their parents. He also wasn’t ready to be the king. “But we must all rise to the challenge. You, my brother, will be fine.”
“Only because you’ll be at my side.” He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to say that it should be her who would ascend. They both knew he felt that way, just as they both knew that there was no time to push through any changes. Not unless a miracle befell their father.
“I will be wherever you need me,” Gisele said. “I’ll always have your back.”
“I love you,” he said, speaking the words in English instead of the native tongue they’d been talking in. He didn’t know what possessed him, but the words made him think of Skye. Not that he’d stopped thinking of Skye. He wished she were with him, but he hadn’t been surprised when she’d declined.
“I’m sorry Skye declined to come,” Gisele said, making Leo smile.
“Reading my mind will be an asset since you’ll be my closest advisor.”
“Perhaps you are too easy to read, Your Highness.”
He snorted.
“Truly,” she said more gently. “I only know her through you, but I am sorry, Leo. Love isn’t easy to find, and it’s often harder to keep.”
“Thank you,” he said, wondering if his sister had ever found love. He didn’t think so, and that realization made him sad. Then again, she didn’t have to feel the loss he was now feeling, and he wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. “She doesn’t understand the strength inside her,” he said. “But I also can’t blame her. She can’t be my wife, and she has no desire for a public life. It’s only in fairy tales that love conquers all. Usually, it’s much more difficult to tame.”
“You sound very wise. Just as a king should. Hurry home, brother. I’m afraid that the throne may be yours before you even arrive.”
They ended the call, and he spent the remainder of the flight praying that he’d see his father one last time. His mother had died in childbirth when he’d been ten, proving to him once and for all that being a royal wasn’t that special after all. How could it
be when you could so easily lose the people you loved?
The airfield was twenty minutes from the palace and the royal motorcade rushed through the emptied streets, lights flashing, the nearby mountains seeming to loom in, trapping them in a nightmare. Citizens stood on sidewalks, already wearing mourning badges, and the gate around the palace was littered with flowers.
It was all too real. Too damn real.
Once they were inside the gates, he threw himself out of the car and raced up the steps and past the doormen. His footsteps echoed down the halls, then again as he pounded up the stairs. He sprinted to his father’s wing, then collapsed with relief into his sister’s arms.
“He’s weak, but he’s alive,” she whispered. “Leo, I think he’s waiting for you.”
She pulled out of his embrace, gathering herself. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears, and deep shadows accented her eyes. But she smiled at him, and he smiled back. God, he was so glad to see her.
“I need to go in.”
She nodded, then hung back as he hurried to the doors as the attendants pulled them open. The doctor was at his father’s bedside, and bowed when Leo came in. Leo waved off the formalities. “How is he?”
“Your father is strong,” the doctor said, then lowered his voice. “You have arrived just in time, Your Highness. I am sorry.”
“Leave us.”
The doctor nodded, then left the room, leaving Leo alone with his father. He moved to the bed and sat on the edge.
“My son.” The king’s voice was barely recognizable.
“Don’t try to speak, Father.”
“Why not? It will do no … harm now.”
Leo’s heart clenched. Both at his father’s words and at his cadence that reminded him of Skye. God, how he wished she were at his side.
“Don’t be afraid, son,” his father said. “You are ready. And so am I. Ready to see your mother and brother again.”
“I miss her,” Leo said, fighting tears. “And I will miss you.”
“I love you, Leopold. You and your sister. And I love this … country. Rule it well. It is hard … when the responsibility of that kind of … love rests on your shoulders. But … our small corner of … the world is at a precipice. It is … ready to move forward.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There is … no reason … a woman cannot rule. No reason … we cannot be … a center for science … and technology.”
“Father, I—” He didn’t know what to say. His father had never once spoken of his children’s desire that Gisele succeed their father. If he’d believed his eldest could rule, why hadn’t he set those changes in motion?
“What … ever you choose, know that I … support you. You will wear the crown, my son, though I cannot say for how long. And while you … sit the throne, you will be a great leader. And one day, I hope you find a woman to sit at your side … as queen consort. For love, rather than duty.” He reached out, his grip weak as he took Leo’s hand. He said nothing more, his breathing turning shallow.
Leo sat with him through the long hours, and by morning, his father was dead.
Gisele had come in during the night. Now, tears streamed down her face as she rose and pulled the blanket up over their father’s face.
“The King is dead,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. She met Leo’s eyes. “Long live the King.”
Chapter Twenty
Skye watched Leo’s first press conference live on the internet. His coronation wouldn’t be for another year, in a ceremony of extreme pomp and circumstance with heads of state and the country’s archbishop in attendance. For now, he was “simply” ascending to the throne, having become the king from the moment of his father’s death just before dawn.
In truth, though, there was nothing simple about the process, as there was plenty of to-do about the whole thing. So much, that Skye wondered if he would even have the chance to mourn.
She felt the tightness in her heart and wished that she was there with him. Not because she wanted to be in the role of girlfriend to the king—she shuddered at the thought of that spotlight—but because she wanted him. Already she missed him, wanted to comfort him. And she hated the machinations of Fate that kept them apart.
She shook it off. They were star-crossed lovers if ever there were any, but at least they’d both had their moments of bliss.
Now, Skye tapped out a quick text sending both her condolences and congratulations. She didn’t even know if he would get the text. For all she knew, his phone had been only for his time in the States. Or perhaps Jürgen would screen his messages and keep this one from Leo for fear of distracting him from his duties.
Bottom line, the odds that a king would text her back were ridiculously slim, which was why her heart twisted so damn much when, five minutes after his press conference ended, she received his reply.
Thank you. I miss you. L
She released a shuddering breath and pressed the phone to her heart. Then she jumped, startled by the light tap at her bedroom door.
“It’s me,” Bart said. “I’m meeting Hannah and Matthew at The Fix. You should come.”
“I don’t know if I’m—”
“You should come,” he repeated. “Come on, Skye. Sitting in here isn’t going to make you feel any better. And Leo wouldn’t want that for you. Neither do we.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. They were right, of course. “Fine,” she said, then changed out of her PJs and into real clothes before heading down to street level with Bart so they could walk the short distance to The Fix.
She’d expected looks and questions when she reached the bar. After all, the staff and many of the customers knew her—and now they knew who she’d been dating.
What she hadn’t expected was the crowd gathered outside her condo.
They shouted questions as she and Bart walked, Skye keeping her head down as Bart muttered, “No comment, no comment, come on, folks, can’t you give her some space?”
Finally, at the corner of Sixth and Congress, she stopped and faced them. Obviously, they weren’t backing off until she said something. “I … love him. I miss … him. And I … know he’ll be a … great … king.”
That was all she could manage, and she was certain she sounded like an idiot, but at least she’d spoken. She owed Leo that.
“You did great,” Bart assured her, hurrying her the next few blocks to the bar. Strangely enough, her comment seemed to have shut down the frenzy, and they arrived without any more demands for quotes or pictures or rudely shouted questions about how Leo was in bed. The answer was excellent, but that wasn’t something that Skye intended to share.
“Rough walk?” Griffin asked, as he and Bev entered the bar at the same time.
“Next time, we’ll take a taxi,” Bart said. “Idiotic for such a short distance, but it’ll at least give Skye breathing room.”
“I survived,” she said. “And it will … die down now that he’s … King.”
“Until the coronation,” Bart agreed. “Then it’ll start up all over again.”
That was true. But that was a long way off.
Bart waved to Hannah and Matthew and started across the bar, but Skye held back, tugging Griffin to the side as Bev peeled off to sign a few autographs.
“How … do you do it?” Skye asked.
To his credit, he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He was an A-list screenwriter with a body half-covered in burns, including his face. His soon-to-be wife was an Oscar-winning actress. And he’d accepted the fact that he was going to be in the spotlight.
“I hated it for a long time,” he told her. “The eyes on me. That feeling that they would think I was lesser because I didn’t look the way society thought I should look, whatever that means.”
“But you … own it now.” She’d seen the footage from his last movie premiere. He and Bev on the red carpet, and he hadn’t been wearing his signature hoodie.
He shrugged. “This is who I am. Once I a
ccepted that it got easier.”
“But how? How did you … accept it?”
He exhaled, then shrugged. “I weighed what was important over what wasn’t.” He ran his hand over the right side of his face. “Bev won.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It wasn’t,” he said. “Or, it wasn’t until it was.”
“What changed?”
“I fell in love,” he said simply. “When you let it, love makes everything easy.” He smiled, only the unscarred part of his mouth curving up, then reached out to cup her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Skye.”
He started to walk away, but she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “Griff, wait.”
He turned back, a question in his eyes.
“Did I make a mistake not going with him?”
He shook his head, just the tiniest of motions. “Only you know that. And if you did, well, there’s this cool invention called an airplane…”
Griffin’s words stayed with Skye throughout the night, so much so that she left The Fix early because she was so lost in her thoughts she got tired of asking her friends what they were talking about.
By the time she woke up, she’d made a decision, even though she hadn’t actually sat down to weigh the pros and cons. It just was. It felt right. And once she’d decided, she knew there was no going back.
She was going to Avelle-am-see.
She wasn’t going to text first. She wasn’t going to ask what he wanted. That wasn’t the point. This was about her—it was about owning who she was and what she wanted. About conquering her fears and taking that giant leap and every other stupid but accurate cliché she could come up with.
She was just doing it. She was just going.
And she was damn proud of herself for deciding.
Still, she couldn’t take the leap without telling her father. Not only was he her boss and the only family she had, but she also loved him. He deserved to know, especially since she intended to leave the next morning, and that meant she was going to miss the symposium. A total bonus, as far as she was concerned.
