“Well, there’re already photogs from London and Paris here trying to break the story, especially with the news out of Thesolo. Wouldn’t you prefer it to be someone you trust?”

Nya stiffened in his arms. “What news?”

Her voice shook, and her body shook, and not from the cold.

“Oh.” Phillipe looked at Hans.

Hans looked at Phillipe. “She doesn’t know?”

“Your father is on a hunger strike,” Krebs supplied helpfully. “He says he has no reason to live if his daughter won’t speak to him.”

“What?”

Hans and Phillipe rushed over, glaring at Krebs before turning gentler expressions on Nya.

“It’s not so bad. They’re giving him fluids,” Hans said.

“Humans can last for weeks without food,” Phillippe added.

That was when the tears slipped down her cheeks. Krebs started to raise his camera, but Hans blocked it with his forearm.

There was a series of flashes from further down the esplanade, though, and then a figure in the distance turned and ran off.

Johan took a step toward the figure, but instead wrapped a protective arm around Nya.

“I bet it was that putaine from the Looking Glass,” Phillipe said with a grimace of distaste as he looked after the figure. “He used to be a sprinter on the British Olympic team and he puts the skill to use.”

“We’re going to go back to the castle,” Johan said, unease settling in his stomach. His life had only looked completely spontaneous before—even his most impulsive behaviors had some reason behind them, and some level of calculated control. Something was off and he didn’t like how the reins were being slowly tugged from his grip.

“Are you all right?” he asked Nya as they walked quickly back to the palace’s back entry.

“I suppose,” she said. “I have to be all right. My alternative is to run back to Thesolo and admit defeat.”

“Is this a battle?” Johan asked, and her head snapped up, gaze hard as it locked on his.

“Of course, it is,” she said. That anger that he had first heard on the plane was in her voice again. “Why else would I be here?”

Johan drew himself up. She wouldn’t realize that her words had been as brutal as a blow from the woodsman’s ax. They shouldn’t have been. They were simply the truth. He was the one who had offered her this escape—why should he be hurt by the reminder of it?

Because she said she liked you.

“Right,” he said. “And I was just the weapon closest to hand.”

“What?” she sniffled.

They turned into the mews, and he realized he was being selfish. She’d just received a shock and didn’t need him adding to her problems by expecting her to take care of his hurt feelings, too.

“Nothing,” he said, then looked above the entrance. “But that’s not nothing.”

Above the secret door to the castle, spray painted in bright yellow, were the words Democracy Now, Monarchy Never! with a matching X sprayed over the door. Nothing remotely secret about it now.

“Well. This has been eventful walk,” he said. And he had a feeling things would get even more interesting in the days to come. Underestimating the importance of the referendum had been an error on his part, but hopefully it wouldn’t bite him on the ass too hard.

Chapter 15

INTERNATIONAL FRIEND EMPORIUM CHAT

Portia: Tav just gave me the paper. What did Johan do to make you cry?

Nya: Oh god, it’s in the Looking Glass? There’s a nice photo of us in the newspaper here. I used your tips for the perfect photo and pretended I was saying strudel.

Portia: The article says that skeletons from his past have come back to ruin your relationship. “A source” says that a love child has emerged. There’s another tabloid saying you were crying because the king was mean to you.

Nya: No, the king is my buddy. And there is no love child—to my knowledge. One of the photographers told me about my father’s hunger strike. I had to learn about it from a stranger.

Ledi: Dammit. Okay, that was wrong. But you seemed so . . . free. I didn’t want you to come back because of your father’s manipulative tactics.

Nya: I wouldn’t have come back.

Ledi: I didn’t know that. But it was wrong of me to assume. I keep doing that.

Nya: R

Ledi: I saw the smiling photos of you two online, saying that Johan was easing the pain of your father’s behavior.

Nya: Well, that’s somewhat close to the truth.

Ledi: And that you were carrying the love child.

Nya: No, we haven’t even

Nya:

Portia:

Ledi: That’s fine. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. If you do decide to do anything, you have your fanny pack.

There was a chiming sound, a doorbell, Nya realized. She ended the conversation and hurried over to the front door of her room, then steeled herself.

What if it’s Johan? What if he wants to finish what we started in the parlor yesterday?

Her cheeks burned, as they had last night when she’d slipped into bed and stared at the door separating their rooms, wondering what would happen if she was brave enough to walk over and knock. She had wanted to, so badly, but hadn’t.