Page 32

CHAPTER 31

DECK

IF PAPER TOWELS COULD TALK.

Waking up in my old bedroom was confusing at first. The last time I’d visited, they’d treated me as a proper guest, putting me up in the guest quarters in a different wing of the palace. But that was when they were maintaining my disguise—I was not the prince, just a visitor of some import.

Now, there was no reason to hide me. I was to be the king, after all. (So they shoved me back into my old twin-sized bed, where my feet now hung off the end. Of course.)

“A formal announcement will be made in the next week,” Dad was saying at breakfast. “And we will hold the coronation ceremony shortly after.” He nodded at both Lambert and me, and I did my best to keep the horror I felt at his statement from my expression.

“So soon?” Lambert asked.

“I see no need to delay,” Dad said. “Deckkie is home, and he should assume responsibility as soon as possible to ensure a peaceful transition.” I focused on my scones, not wanting to see how this statement might hurt my brother’s feelings. There was no talk of the potential for him to ascend, and I gathered those discussions were long past. Everyone in the family had accepted this plan. My coming home had cemented it.

But no one—other than my brother—had asked what I wanted.

I’d had dreams of hockey the night before. That cold ammonia scent of the ice rink that had come to mean home to me, the rush of taking the ice when a crowd waited all around to watch the fight, the feeling of flying that I could never replicate any other way. And Lizzy. Lizzy had been there. And in my dream? She was wearing my jersey.

That’s how I knew it was a dream. Lizzy was a professional. She’d never wear a jersey. It would be far too casual. But when I’d first woken up, I felt like I might give just about anything to see her in mine.

That was past though. I needed to look forward. She’d lied to me, she’d betrayed me. She could have just told me what was going on, who she was. Now there was no chance of anything real between us. You didn’t build a relationship based on lies.

None of that stopped me from wondering where she was, though, what she was doing. Was she happy? Did her mother still make those delicious fry bakes she used to give us when we were small? If I closed my eyes, I could still taste the brown sugar and the crispy edges… perfection. It all reminded me of Eliza. And something inside me twisted into a tangled mess when I thought of her.

“Did you hear me, Deckkie?” My mother asked, looking at me meaningfully.

I shook my head, sending thoughts of Lizzy scattering. “Sorry, what?”

“I said you’ll have fittings this afternoon and all day tomorrow.”

“Fittings?” I didn’t do a good job hiding the horror in my voice. Nothing sounded worse than getting stuck with needles for two days in a row while standing around trying on clothes. “For what?”

“For your new wardrobe. Kings certainly cannot be seen wearing pink board shorts and T-shirts that say ‘pew pew,’” Mom said, wrinkling her nose at me.

Lambert was grinning across the table. “I like your shirt,” he whispered loudly enough for them to hear.

“Of course you do.” Dad rolled his eyes.

“I guess you can have it when they make me wear… What will I have to wear every day, then?” I tried to imagine Dad’s normal wardrobe. This morning he was wearing a robe and looking only slightly less tired than yesterday.

“Proper slacks and tailored shirts. Ties,” Mom said. “Cufflinks.”

“Ties?” I moaned. I hated ties. There was no worse invention. “Can I pass some kind of royal edict that no one ever has to wear ties again?”

“I think you’ll find, son, that there are far more important issues demanding your attention once you’re the sovereign head of our nation.” Dad did not seem amused.

“Of course, sir.” I struggled to sit up taller, feeling like every word from my family was another weight piled onto my shoulders, pressing me down. I hadn’t realized how good I had it. All I wanted was to be back in Wilcox, preparing for a game. Or even dropping trou for Lizzy’s calendar. It was all so much better than this.

We finished breakfast, and Lambert and I headed out for a walk on the beach. Naturally, we were closely tailed by five security guys in tailored short-sleeved shirts, an annoyance I supposed I’d need to get used to.

“So,” he said. “Settling in?”

“No.” I practically spat the word. “I don’t want any of this.”

He nodded. “It’s a lot.”

I stopped walking when my feet hit the water, and for a moment I let the cool, clear water pool around my ankles as the sea filled my vision from horizon to horizon on either side. “God, it’s gorgeous. You forget.”

“Do you?” Lambert asked wistfully.

“That was insensitive. I’m sorry.” He’d never been away from Murdan. He wouldn’t know if one forgot its beauty.

“A few years ago, I might have been jealous,” he said softly. “But now?” He shook his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I love it here, Deck. It took me years of fighting to realize that this is where I’m meant to be. This is what I’m meant to do.”

“Stand on the beach with your miserable little brother?”

He smiled at me, a calm benevolence I’d never seen from him emanating. He looked…regal. “Something like that.”

A thought occurred to me. “Lambert… do you want to be king?”

He hesitated, keeping his gaze trained on the horizon, the bright blue of the Caribbean Sea making every second feel like an eternity. “I do,” he said softly. “But I’ve accepted Dad’s decision. I’ve made a name for myself for all the wrong things. It’s too late now.”

I stared at him. This was the answer. Lambert wasn’t the same out of control kid he’d been. This version of Lambert, the one that was in love with a beautiful woman? The one who stood here telling me he had no ambitions to leave our tiny country? He should be king.

“What about Celeste?” I asked.

A smile pulled his tanned cheeks wide. “She’ll marry me whether I’m a king or a pauper. That’s the kind of love I was lucky enough to find.” My heart flipped at his words. Luck was right. I envied him.

“Lamb. You should be king.”

He shrugged and smiled, so calm I wished I could channel some of whatever newfound Zen he’d found when I was on the ice. “It’s too late, Deckkie. I’ve come to terms with it.”

I shook my head and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s not too late. I’m not king yet!”

“The kingdom has deemed me unfit.”

I frowned at him. Before me stood a man who seemed as fit as any. “Tell me the truth. All those years of rehab… did it work?”

Lambert held my gaze for a second and then dropped it, a secret smile playing on his lips. “Truth?” He asked looking up and scrubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

“Yeah.”

“The first time was enough. Scared me straight.”

That didn’t make any sense, and I told him so. He’d been to rehab at least three times since then.

“Celeste was a counselor there,” he said, catching my eyes and then turning his gaze out to sea. “I’ve known her since I was eighteen. First, she was just helping me, but then… things shifted. Going back was a way to get a week to spend with her, out of the media’s eye line. A way to get to know each other without all the pressure.”

“And a few months ago? Dad’s incident?”

“That was awful timing. I was vacationing on the other side of the island with Celeste—it was when I proposed. But as soon as Dad collapsed, the media swarmed in, and I had to play the part to protect her.”

“I don’t get it,” I admitted.

“This life,” Lambert gestured toward the security behind us. “It’s not for everyone. I didn’t want to force it on her. So I kept her as far from it as I could. Whether that was pretending to need to go back to rehab or renting a villa under an alias and ditching security for a week.”

I shook my head. “You dirty dog.”

He smiled. “I was just trying to protect her.”

“And destroying your own reputation in the process.”

His smile grew dimmer. “I succeeded there, that’s for sure. And now that it matters, it’s too late to fix.”

“I’m not king yet,” I reminded him.

“But you will be. That’s what the people want, what Dad wants. I ruined my image long ago, and our people have a long memory.”

No. I couldn’t accept that. He would make a good king, much better than I would. I didn’t want it, didn’t want to be here at all. Then a thought occurred to me. “It’s just PR, Lamb. We just need to rehab your image a little bit.”

He raised an eyebrow. “PR, huh? That something you learned in the league?”

“A little bit, yeah. But I know someone else who’s great at it.” We needed to find Lizzy.

Finding Eliza Canfield was easier said than done.

Together, Lambert and I located her residence—the same place she’d lived with her mother growing up. But neither her mother or Lizzy seemed to be home. Or at least no one answered the door.

“Want me to open it for you, sir?” the closest security guard asked me.

I stared at him. “I can’t just go walking into people’s houses.”

“You can, actually. You’re the prince.”

I gave him a stern look. “That does not make it right.”

“Maybe not, sir. Apologies.”

I sighed and turned to Lambert. “She’s probably at work anyway. Where do all the King’s guards work?”

Lambert shrugged and we both turned back to the security guy who now seemed to be pretending he hadn’t heard every word we’d just said.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Stuart,” he said.

“Where do the King’s guards work, Stuart?” I asked.

“This way, sirs.” He led us back into the palace building, and down a twisting maze of corridors lined with closed doors. Lambert and I followed him, the other security guards trailing behind us, until we came to a stop at a door marked “Neel Wiley. Director of the Kings Guard.”

“Neel’s in charge, sir,” the man said, knocking on the door.

We waited, but no one answered. Finally, Lambert opened the door and we leaned in, but the office was empty. In fact, the desk appeared to have been ravaged by hurried rodents or a man in a rush to get gone. The computer had been taken, the monitor standing askew on the desktop. Papers had sifted to the floor, and the chair was pushed back and stood at a haphazard angle. There were no personal items at all around the office.

“Other ideas?” I asked the guard.

He shook his head. “Sorry, no. I don’t report to Neel.”

Lambert and I gazed around the office again and then at one another. Footsteps echoed out in the hall and another guard hurried by in dark slacks and a button-down shirt.

“Excuse me,” I called, drawing the man’s attention.

His eyes took in my pink shorts and casual T-shirt, and a look of derision crossed his face. But then he lifted his gaze to mine and recognition seemed to dawn.

“Your highness,” he said, nodding to me and then to Lambert.

“Yeah, hi. Thanks. Um, do you know this Neel guy?”

“Yes sir. He’s my boss.”

“Any idea where he might’ve gone?” I looked up and down the long empty hallway.

“I saw him earlier, sir. He had his computer and said he had a very important mission. He was heading for the helipad.”

“Huh,” Lambert said. “I guess he won’t be much help then.”

I shrugged. “Do you know Lizz—er, Eliza Canfield?”

“Yes sir.”

“Seen her today?”

“No sir.” The guy looked half terrified and didn’t seem like he was going to be any use at all.

“Okay, thanks.”

He nodded and bowed, and then began backing down the hallway away from us.

“You’re going to run into something,” I called. “Just walk normally.” He didn’t listen, instead, continued heading backward, bumping into the wall and then redirecting himself like a pinball.

People were crazy.

“Okay, so if you were Lizzy, where would you be?” Lambert asked me.

“Probably organizing something, kicking someone’s ass, or lifting weights.” Thinking of Lizzy gave me a warm little buzz I didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Okay, Stuart, where’s the gym the guards use?” Lambert asked our guide.

“This way.” He led us down yet another long winding massive corridor.

“This place is enormous,” Lambert said looking surprised.

“Haven’t you explored it all by now?" I asked him. "You've been here your entire life."

"I have better things to do than wander hallways," Lambert said. "It occurs to me that maybe we need better custodial services though.” He pointed in front of us where a massive pile of paper towels spewed from beneath one door. It looked as if each towel have been shoved out underneath the door and they were accumulating into an enormous pile.

"That's weird," I said. "Maybe it's a mouse?"

“That should not be there. Sorry, sirs.” Stuart pulled his walkie talkie from his belt. “Custodial services to corridor ten,” he barked.

We had just passed the door when I thought I heard a muffled sound. I turned back and listened, certain I heard a voice.

“Do you hear that?” I asked Lambert, who stopped and turned back toward the door.

"Hear what?" Lambert said.

"I swear I heard a muffled voice calling for help."

“Do you think all those paper towels might be calling for help?” Lambert asked me. I was about to hit him when the sound came again, and it was definitely the word ‘help.’ It was definitely a woman's voice. In fact, it was a voice that had become so familiar to me that I heard in my dreams.

"Lizzie?” I called back.

The door responded by banging loudly.

I turned to Stuart. “Someone’s in there.” I tried the handle, but the door didn’t budge.

“Help!” Lizzy’s voice came again. “Help, I’m locked in!”

“Lizzy, hang on,” I called back, my heart trying to beat out of my chest to get to her. Why was Lizzy locked in a closet?

Stuart pulled a ring of keys from his belt and began shuffling through them, finally inserting one and opening the bolt on the door. He wrenched the handle and pulled the door open. On the other side stood Lizzy, eyes wide and chest heaving, and more beautiful than I’d ever seen her.

“You’re safe!” she said, and then she hurtled herself into my arms.

I caught her, everything in the universe aligning as I held her close to me, our hearts pressed together. “Yeah,” I said. “Why were you in the closet?”

Lizzy stiffened in my grip, probably realizing we had company. She stepped back, straightening her ponytail. “Uh, hello. Hi. Sorry. Oh, Your Majesty,” she inclined her head to my brother.

“Stop that,” I told her, exasperated with all the royalty bullshit. “Why were you in that closet?”

She looked up and down the corridor. “We have to find Neel! We have to hurry!”