Page 74 of The Midnight Princess

I wrap my arms around him. I was doing everything right—carefully considering every step before I took it. In choosing the spreadsheet instead of trusting my gut or heart or whatever lesser organ seized the steering wheel, I would make my future foolproof. No mistakes. No missteps.

A bitter laugh chokes out. I’ve been on the wrong road this whole time.

Vede.The waste of it.

I feel feverish, like a seed before it breaks the husk and sends out its first shoots. A shiver works its way up my back, and Jacob chuckles.

“Cold?” His arms tighten like he’s never going to let me be cold. I close my eyes and enjoy it for a moment. I pretend it’s uncomplicated. Pretend it’s friendly. Pretend it can last.

It’s none of those things.

My eyes are red-rimmed, and I sniff, shaking my head.

“Ready to go back?” he asks.

He looks at me and seems to hear all the things I wish and cannot say. His fingertips brush the side of my face. His hand takes mine.

“Let’s get you home safe.”

21

Million Monkeys

JACOB

Alma hasn’t checked her phone once. She hasn’t excused herself to the upstairs bedroom to carry on a low-voiced conversation with Pietor as they work it out together. She’s been with me the whole day.

“Let’s get you home safe,” I say.

She nods, but I don’t release her. For a second, I keep her folded against me, her strong arms around my waist, and the cottage door, lightly rattling in the wind, at my back.

I kiss the top of her head and pull away.

We return the same way we came. I wave to the security detail at the head of the drive and bounce onto the main road, grinning when she complains about being thrown around.

At the palace, she slithers through the gap between the front seats almost as soon as I stop. “Thank you,” she breathes.

Alma hops out the door and heads to her mother’s quarters, and I drive the truck around to the workshop and spend severalhours working alone. I eat dinner alone. My session in the gym I spend alone.

At the end of the night, I hear her soft-footed return. Punching a pillow into shape, I stare hard at the door that divides us, willing her to tap on it, to whisper an invitation to talk.

I roll to my back, covering my face in goose down, emitting a frustrated, barely audible growl.

I glare at the door, and my gaze sharpens until I can trace the rough and sinuous grain of wood. Giving sleep up for lost, I reach for my phone.

“Is the offer to game still open?” I text.

Princess Ella responds immediately. “Of course. What’s your poison?”

“I need to explode some reptiles.”

“Console or PC?”

“Console.”

*clown emoji* “Come on over, old man.”

It’s nearly one in the morning, but I do.