But Megan is up and coming toward me, pulling me into a too-tight hug. “Karina has started eating,” she says when she pulls back. “And she’s been sleeping, too. We’ve gotten her to take a shower and—”
“Now she smells good while she rants and raves like a crazy person,” Alexei says.
It should hurt me. I’m pretty sure it’s meant to. But I’m numb now. It’s going to take a lot more than that to make me bleed.
“Has she mentioned my mom?” I ask. Megan shakes her head.
“But we haven’t asked,” she rushes to add.
“So, Grace.” Rosie is practically bouncing. She’s like a golden retriever puppy that has just been asked if it wants to go play. “What’s the plan? I mean, you do have a plan, don’t you? I know you have a plan.”
“A plan for what?” I ask.
Rosie practically rolls her eyes. “For vengeance.” She sounds more than a little bit evil. Then she laughs. “Or revenge or justice or whatever you’re planning. So tell us. What. Is. The. Plan?”
I realize they’re all looking at me now. This is supposed to be some kind of move in the chess game of my life. But I’m just a pawn who has already been sacrificed. I don’t know how to tell them that the game is over.
“I …”
“Are we going to blackmail Ann?” Rosie guesses. “Kidnap the king? Ooh. I know. Palace coup!”
“A coup is how we got into this mess in the first place,” Noah reminds her.
I have to shake my head. I have to find the words. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, disappointing people. I’ve certainly had enough practice. But there is something in the way Rosie is staring up at me. These people trusted me once. They trust me still. I’ve already decided to break my own heart. Not even I am cruel enough to keep on breaking theirs, too.
“There is no plan,” I tell them at last. Maybe I’ve somehow given up on the dream of finding whatever my mother was looking for. Or maybe I’m just through letting other people get hurt.
Rosie rolls her eyes. “There has to be a plan. You wouldn’t just move into the palace and—”
“I’m going to end it, Rosie. I just want to end it. And if I move in with Ann and let her groom me into whatever I need to be, it will end. Eventually.”
“I don’t understand,” Rosie says. “How is that going to end anything?”
“It will end … when I marry the prince,” I say.
I’m ready for stunned silence. I’m prepared for outrage and indignation. But I’m not expecting the sound of a voice I barely recognize yelling, “When you do what?”
No one bows. There are no curtsies. I don’t know what is more unexpected—the sight of the future king of Adria standing in the lantern-lit room inside the Iranian embassy or the looks on the faces of my friends as they recognize the boy who is now screaming inside the sanctuary of Iran.
“Hi, Thomas,” I tell him.
“Grace.” He strides toward me, but he doesn’t seem very prince-like. He just looks like a scared kid who snuck out looking for adventure and got so much more than he bargained for. “What were you talking about?”
I glance from the prince to my friends. “I should introduce you to everyone.”
Then he seems to realize that we’re not alone. He shifts from scared kid to future ruler in a heartbeat. “I am sorry to interrupt,” he says, as if he’s just popped by during high tea, unannounced.
“Thomas, these are my friends.” One by one I make the introductions, but he doesn’t care about the names, the nationalities.
“Hello, Rosemarie,” he says to Rosie as I get to her.
“Hey,” she tells him. When I look at her, she shrugs. “Thomas and I go way back.” I must make a face because she throws up her hands. “What? I know people.”
I’m just starting to realize that Rosie knows everyone, but that is hardly the point.
“What is the meaning of this?” the prince asks, turning back to me.
“These are my friends,” I repeat like an idiot. “I’m allowed to have friends even though I live in the palace. Aren’t I?”
“That’s not what I was talking about, and you know it,” Thomas snaps. “What did you mean when I came in, about marrying a prince. This prince?”
I look around the group, but they all just shake their heads, and I know I’m on my own.
“Your mother and my mother were friends.”
“Yes. I know. But why should that mean—Don’t tell me we’ve gone back to arranged marriages?” He tries to laugh. I think this is his idea of a joke. Or maybe he just wants it to be.
“Not exactly,” I say.
I hear Alexei mutter something in Russian and then move to the opposite side of the room, as far away from me and my future husband as possible.
I am officially on my own.
“Your mother is of the opinion that it would be best for everyone if you and I were to marry,” I choke out.
“Why?” There’s a hard edge to the prince’s voice, a deep mistrust in his eyes.
“It’s a long story,” I tell him.
“I have time,” he says.