But she doesn’t come running after me.
Instead, I thunder through the third level of the palace, snapping at anyone who crosses my path. Phillip is only one of the many people who finds himself in that unfortunate position.
“Your highness,” he says to me when I burst into my rooms, half-dressed from last night and filled with fury at myself for what I’ve just done.
“Not now, Phillip,” I bellow, heading for the bathroom.
“But you have a meeting with—.”
“I said not now. Goddamn it, if you want to keep your job, you’ll find somewhere else to be until I tell you otherwise.”
By the time the last words escape my mouth, my voice has reached a ragged roar, and Phillip’s eyes are huge and round in alarm. He opens his mouth, thinks better of whatever he was going to say and closes it, before bobbing his head and making a dash for the door.
In the shower, the almost intolerable heat of the water does nothing to soothe me. It only further stokes the fire of my rage and heightens the shame of my sadness. I turn the water to cold and let it pummel me. I’m shivering almost instantly, but force myself to stand under the deluge.
The cold blast against my skin reminds me of a fishing trip I took with my father and Marcus years ago, before he was crowned king, before we moved into Sainthall Palace, and maybe even before my mother died.
We had just dropped anchor, far from shore, when my attention wandered just long enough that I failed to notice a rolling wave coming our way. I lost my balance when the wave hit our boat, and I plunged into the frigid water, the cold driving the air from my lungs. I’d already taken off the life jacket my father had insisted that both of us wear while we were underway. The water instantly soaked my clothes, their weight dragging me down.
It all happened so fast and I was only underwater for a few moments at most because Marcus, always the stronger swimmer, jumped in after me. How old could he have been? Eleven, maybe twelve? Yet he shoved my father out of the way and was in the lake coming to my rescue before my father had time to react.
Marcus hauled me to the surface as he fought against the rough surface of his own life jacket—he was still wearing his; leave it to Marcus to follow the rules long after their parameters had expired—and together the two of them dragged me back over the side of the boat to safety.
Within a few minutes, we were all laughing at the fact that I’d managed to go over the edge with barely any encouragement.
My father, a wide smile dancing on his face, clapped Marcus on the shoulder. “You’re going to be just fine, aren’t you, son?” he said, another guffaw rising up from his broad chest. “You never have to think—you just know the right thing to do.”
Marcus beamed with pride as I shivered under the scratchy blanket my father had pulled out from the boat’s storage compartment to wrap me in.
“Fuck,” I say out loud, my body shuddering from the chill of the shower. “Fuck.”
When Jessica’s face drifts into my mind, her eyes filled with tears because of my asshole decisions—never mind that they’re for her own good—I turn off the water with a shout of anger and disappointment.
Dried off and back in my rooms with a towel still wrapped around my waist, I slam my way through my dresser drawers, pulling out the first clothes I see. I quickly get dressed, stopping long enough to send Nate a message. I know he’s been antsy lately—now that I’m stuck inside the goddamn palace from dawn until dusk attending these endless meetings, there’s not much need for him to be driving me anywhere.
But I need to get out of here right now.
“Ready in two,” he writes back, and as soon as I read his response, I shove the phone in my pocket and leave the room.
My jaw is clenched tight as I make my way to the private entrance. People hurry out of my way as I stalk down the palace corridors. At one point, I see Phillip standing at the end of a hallway, but when he catches sight of me, he disappears around the corner, whispering quickly out of the corner of his mouth to the member of the staff with whom he was conferring.
Outside, Nate is waiting. I open the door of the town car and slide into the back seat without a word. I catch a glimpse of his eyes in the rearview mirror, noticing the furrows denting his forehead. To his credit, he doesn’t say a word about my disheveled hair, my hastily chosen outfit, or the fact that we are not scheduled to be going anywhere. He just says, “Where to?”
“Just drive, Nate. Just go.”
He nods curtly and steers the car away from the Palace. As the Palace gets smaller out the back window of the car the farther we drive, another wave of sharp, aching grief slams into me like a tidal wave. I slam a fist against the car door, then bury my face in my hands, a painful lump catching in my throat.
What have I done?
What am I going to do?