Page 12 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

Chapter Seven

Elliot

It’s a good thing Gregor handled most of the logistics because there’s no way I would have thought of everything required for a campaign trail like this.

Cooks, stylists, an EMT, and several other palace employees are on the roster, people I wouldn’t have considered.

I can handle basic security, but I would have planned transport time around the speed of the cars.

Not the speed of the horses we’re bringing with us.

Horses. One of the cities we’re visiting doesn’t have roads capable of accommodating vehicles, so everything will be brought into those locations by coach, and most of the guards are on horseback.

Which means instead of half an hour’s drive to Breckenholt, our first stop, I’m stuck in this car with Freya for two hours because Gregor won’t let me split up the caravan. Two. Hours. I’m not made for sitting still like this, and the princess is starting to notice.

She’s sitting across from me in the extended town car the royal family uses, her focus on a tablet, but every minute or so she looks up, and her smile grows a little more, as if she knows how desperate I am to be out riding with the princes instead of in here.

An hour into the drive, she clicks her tablet off and sets it on the seat next to her. “You seem nervous, Mr. Reid.”

I’ve been working on keeping my knee from bouncing, which wouldn’t exactly give off the confident, put-together image I want to convey. “I’m fine,” I mutter. I would be less anxious if I were facing forward and could see where we’re going, but Freya took the forward-facing seat.

She presses her lips together, tilting her head as she watches me. “Breckenholt is much safer than Invem if one goes by the reported crime rate.”

“Like I said, I’m fine.” We have plenty of men to keep areas secure while the princess gives a speech to the townspeople everywhere we go, and I’m curious if any rallies for Grimstad will pop up outside Invem. I’m not anticipating trouble but will be ready for it.

Freya’s smile grows. “I admit I do not believe you, Mr. Reid. You are allowed a modicum of anxiety, as this is your first foray into—”

“Okay, we need to work on that.” I sit forward, eager to change the subject before Freya makes me focus more on my discomfort from being trapped in this car. “I know you were raised in a palace, but come on.”

She frowns. “What?”

“You can’t tell me you’ve been friends with a bunch of Americans for years but haven’t picked up a more casual way of speaking.

” I kind of like the way she’s so proper, but this whole campaign came about because she wants to get closer to the people of her country.

I wrinkle my nose when she narrows her eyes at me.

It’s not like this is the first time I’ve brought this up.

“This is the twenty-first century, Princess. Try to talk like it.”

She scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

This is the first time I’ve seen it down—half of it, anyway—and it’s longer and thicker than I expected.

I overheard her complaining to her attendant, Runa, that it would inevitably become a tangled mess before the end of the day, but Runa insisted on a more casual hairstyle for her first campaign appearance.

I’m so glad Runa agreed with me when I suggested she try to help Freya loosen up a bit over the next two weeks, but I’m surprised she had the courage to stand up to the princess.

I was out in the hall this morning, discussing some details with the two guards I have taking point so I can focus on the princess, but I could hear the argument happening inside Freya’s chamber.

Freya was adamant that having her hair up is crucial to her appearance. Runa argued that Freya would be happier if she were comfortable. Freya insisted her comfort included her hair being up and out of the way. I get the feeling her hair is a sort of shield, and I wonder what she hides behind it.

Shifting her hair again, Freya lifts her chin high as she says, “I hardly think my manner of speech will—”

“If the people of Candora think you’re elitist, talking like you’re from the British aristocracy of 1830 is only going to prove them right.

” I grit my teeth when the car hits a bump in the road, and my anxiety spikes as I’m reminded once again that I can’t see where we’re going.

There has to be a better way to travel while still maintaining proximity to the princess.

Freya huffs and folds her arms, as if my comment has no basis of truth. “Mr. Reid, I—”

“Elliot.” I slip out of my jacket, hoping that will help me cool down. “Call me Elliot.” She’s done it before, and I much prefer that to my last name. Too many memories from my days as Sergeant Reid.

“Elliot.” She sighs. “It is not easy to change my way of speaking when I have been doing it my entire life.”

Laughing, I start rolling my sleeves up because it’s still too warm. “It’s just another language, Princess.” I switch to speaking in French. “It takes practice.” Then in Russian: “Your brothers don’t have any problems with sounding normal.”

Freya narrows her eyes and responds in Candoran.

“My brothers excel in everything they do and could not care less what others think of them.” At least, I think that’s what she says.

My Candoran isn’t as fluent as I would like yet, but I have plans to practice with the twins while we’re out here so I don’t miss anything.

Most people in this country speak English, but I’m going to guess the farther we get from the capital, the more people will gravitate toward their native tongue.

Shaking my head, I go back to speaking English.

“From what I hear, you’re as smart as they are.

More so.” Is that a blush on the ever-confident princess?

I hold back a smirk. For all her outward confidence, she’s too easily affected by a simple compliment.

“Derek told me you’ve been his friend for more than half a decade.

That’s plenty of time to have picked up on some things.

He also says you fit right in with his group of friends, so I know you have it in you. ”

She clenches her jaw, turning to look out the window for a moment. “Derek has told me almost nothing about you,” she says coolly.

I can’t decide if she means it as an insult, but it won’t work regardless. “That’s because Derek and I barely know each other. We didn’t even meet until last October.”

That pulls her gaze back to me. “Truly?”

I shrug. “We don’t need to get into my family.”

“What if I want to?”

Biting the inside of my lips, I debate if that would be a good idea. Getting familiar with my charge is necessary if I’m going to properly protect her, but I don’t need her to know me. For a lot of reasons. “Not the best idea,” I decide out loud.

But Freya leans forward, instantly putting me on edge with her sudden nearness. “If I am to practice sounding less royal, I will need to do so in a conversation. I will give you a choice. We can either discuss your family, or you can tell me about your tattoos.”

Thrown by the two options she presented me with, I recognize too late that she’s trying to turn the conversation away from herself.

“My tattoos?” I look down as her gaze starts tracing one of the Celtic knots that loop around my left arm.

I can understand her curiosity about my family, with the way I deflected, but what about my ink is so interesting that she considers it a worthy alternative?

“Well?” She looks up, meeting my eyes with her own. They are quite striking, a bold blue color that seems even brighter with the skies outside hanging heavy with gray clouds. “Which would you prefer, Elliot?”

Neither. My left shoulder throbs, directly beneath the owl wings tattooed there, and I instantly know which topic I would choose. If this campaign is going to go smoothly, I need Freya to trust me, and she won’t be able to do that if I don’t give her at least something.

“It was always just me and my dad,” I say, squirming in my seat when we hit another rut in the road. “Never knew my mom. She took off when I was born.”

With a satisfied glint in her eyes, Freya settles back in her seat and says, “Any siblings?”

“Nope.”

“You are related to Derek on your father’s side?”

It’s strange to me that she doesn’t already know this, considering how close she is to Derek.

Hex and Sander have talked about how much time their sister spends in Los Angeles or on video calls with her friends.

I can see Derek being a private kind of guy, with how famous he’s become, but why wouldn’t he trust Freya with his family dynamics?

“Yeah,” I say, furrowing my brow as I study her. “His dad and mine are brothers.”

She tilts her head. “But you have different surnames.”

“He’s not the first actor to use a stage name.”

“Are you close with your father?”

Close is a relative term, but I’m guessing she’s curious about my relationship compared to hers.

The Alverra family are tight-knit for being royals, and I envy that.

Particularly her closeness with her brothers.

For all their teasing, the twins adore her, and it’s clear to see how much she likes them in return.

I was on my own as a kid, which is why I bonded so tightly with my detachment unit when I joined the Special Forces.

They were my brothers, for all intents and purposes.

It’s been nice to have Hex and Sander to fill that gap left behind when I resigned, but it isn’t quite the same.

My eyes drop to my exposed forearm again, scanning the dark lines that represent the soldiers I served with. It’s been almost a year since I left my unit, and I still feel like I betrayed them by leaving. It doesn’t help that they keep messaging me, begging me to come back.

“I guess you could say my dad and I were close,” I say, keeping my voice even while my chest grows tight at the thought of my brothers-in-arms. “He and my uncle didn’t get along, so it really was just the two of us.”

“Was?”

I nod and hold out my right arm, where a date sits etched into the side of a mountain tattooed on my inner wrist. The day my father died. “He got sick. Passed last year, which is how I met Derek.”

Her eyebrows rise. “At the funeral?” she guesses. When I nod, she pulls her eyebrows together. “He never said…”

“I’m getting the feeling there are a lot of things Derek’s never said.”

The car turns quiet, and I can’t tell if Freya is hurt by the things I’m telling her or if she’s just processing what she’s learning about her friend.

If any of this is stuff Derek doesn’t want me to share, he probably should have said so, but I don’t think he expected me to talk with Freya like this.

I didn’t expect it either, but this is the first time the princess and I have actually been alone.

She’s somehow figured out how to get under my skin, which I don’t love.

“Tell me, Elliot Reid,” Freya says after a long while. She meets my eyes again, and there’s a new sort of determination in her gaze. Something tells me this isn’t the last time she’ll get me to talk, which is not good for my sanity when it comes to this job. “Are you alone in the world?”

For some reason, that question makes me smile.

“Yeah, but it’s not so bad.” Technically, I chose a solitary life.

I could stay in better touch with my old team, but it’s easier to keep my distance after everything that went down.

The less I interact with them, the less tempted I’ll be to reenlist and hope they can pull enough strings to get me back on the team.

Everyone’s better off if I don’t do that.

Her expression turns sad. “Elliot.”

Clearing my throat, I sit up straight and tug my sleeves back down, as if hiding my tattoos will keep her from getting through my shields again. “You should be glad. It’s the only reason I can be here to keep you safe.”

She accepts my deflection with a soft smile. “Hex and Sander seem grateful for your friendship. One can only hope your example will teach them to be serious now and then.”

The twins are plenty serious. When they need to be.

It’s obvious that she loves her brothers, but when she says things like that, I wonder if she really knows them and their struggles.

She clearly doesn’t know much about Derek either despite him being one of her closest friends.

She asked if I’m alone, but I’m starting to think I’m not the lonely one in this car.

“I do not think the twins have had many people match their skills,” Freya continues, “and as they refuse to fight each other, they have had no one to properly spar with.”

I chuckle. “It’s not like they need the practice.

” I’m not one to talk myself up, but it takes all my concentration to keep up with those two, and that’s saying something.

“Not like you,” I add, narrowing my eyes at her.

“I thought that conversation was supposed to be a way for you to practice sounding like the rest of us.”

Her smile turns almost devious, which is a look I haven’t seen on her before. I like it. “Ah, I see you have caught me.”

“You’ve.”

“What?”

I shake my head as I shift in my seat. “It’s those contractions that will help you sound more relatable. ‘I see you’ve caught me’ is what you should have said.”

Sighing, she rolls her eyes and returns her gaze to the window. “I see you’re going to be a most irritating companion.”

Companion. It’s an interesting word choice, though she doesn’t seem to notice what she said. I’m here to protect her. To make sure she lives the life she wants to live and let no one get in her way. I didn’t come here to be her friend.

But as I sit across from her while we trundle through the countryside, I can’t help but wonder if a friend is exactly what she needs.