Page 108

“Never mind,” I say, trying not to stress over the fact we’re going to be on a very long flight over the ocean soon. “On second thought, how about we send him a care package with elderberry, echinacea, and Vitamin C.”

24

A good daughterwould call her parents and let them know she’s leaving the country before she steps foot on the plane that will take her out of it.

I’m not that daughter.

I’m in Bucharest.

Or rather, just outside it where the international airport is located. We’re not actually going into the city, but somewhere around Sinaia, a smaller village in the nearby mountains.

It’s eight in the morning here, seven hours ahead of Florida, and my internal clock is all messed up. I tried to sleep on the plane, but that’s difficult when you’re on the verge of a fourteen-hour-long panic attack. I ended up dozing on and off, waking up every time we hit the slightest bit of turbulence, convinced we were going to crash.

The good news: we didn’t crash.

The bad news: if I ever want to return home, I’m going to have to make that flight again.

My mom answers on the second ring. “Why are you calling so late? Are you hurt? Lost?”

“No, I’m fine. But…” I brace myself. “I’m actually in Bucharest right now.”

There’s silence on the other line, and I glance at my phone to make sure we didn’t get disconnected.

“You’rewhere?” she finally responds.

“Bucharest, the capital of Romania. Actually, we’re just north of it. Noah and I are here to accept Cassian’s nomination for archduke. I’m sorry I forgot to call you before we left.”

“Just a minute,” she says sharply.

“Oh, okay…”

“Piper!” my mother screeches a few seconds later. “I just checked your location. You’re inEurope.”

“Yeah…”

“How expensive is international roaming? Is this call costing you a fortune?”

It’s a weird thing for her to latch onto, but we all process shocking news in our own way, I suppose.

“I signed up for a temporary international add-on while we were waiting to board our plane in Miami.”

Or, more accurately, while we were making a mad dash to the terminal.

“Your father is going to lose his mind.”

This is probably not the best time to tell them Noah and I got married yesterday.

“We’re getting back on the plane tomorrow,” I say, trying to sound soothing. “It’s a quick trip.”

Too quick. Now that we’re here, I’d like to do a little sightseeing. But that’s not on the agenda.

“When did you get your passport?” she asks.

“That’s complicated.”

And hopefully legal. I’m not entirely sure.

“Whatever you do, don’t drink the water. I saw a documentary about a woman who picked up dysentery while traveling abroad.”