A picture of Damon flashed on the screen along with the prime minister.
“A palace spokesperson has confirmed the prime minister’s trip has been extended.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Part of me felt a sweeping sense of relief. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten me. Maybe the country’s work had prevented him from returning. But that was naïve hope creeping in. Trying to convince me that my one night with the king had been more than fantasy.
The reporter stood in front of the palace at the main gates, not by the private entrance I had used. “Sources close to the king say that trade with Bostique is at risk unless the king can turn the talks around. The Islands accounts for twenty percent of our trade economy, so this meeting is critical for all of Galona’s citizens. We will broadcast the palace announcement live.”
I blinked. That sounded serious. I turned the volume up and walked back to the kitchen. The coffee was ready. I didn’t want to miss any of the reports.
It was silly, but I was desperate for more glimpses of him. Maybe a sound bite. Video footage of him walking the palace grounds or in meetings with the prime minister.
I poured the coffee into my I heart Freychon mug. It was nothing like the delicate china cup I sipped from yesterday on the balcony. The mugs were one of the first things Brooklyn and I bought when we moved. We had a matching pair.
I returned to the love seat. The report now focused on the Bostique Islands. There were scenes from their sugar cane fields. Apparently, Galona imported ninety percent of its sugar from the prime minister’s country. The Galonian government was dependent on these tiny islands for huge trade profits. The country’s economic future would be determined based on these negotiations.
I watched old news clips from previous meetings between the two leaders. Damon hadn’t once implied his meeting was as critical as the reporter claimed. He had been calm. He didn’t rush my tour of the library. I never would have guessed this was going on.
I wondered if that made him a good leader. He was hard to read. He could present one side, while concealing his emotions. Or did that make him unreliable? Unpredictable? Maybe even dangerous?
“What’s going on?” Brooklyn emerged from her room. “Did something happen?” She yawned.
“No. I’m just watching the news.” I hadn’t looked away. I was absorbed in the intricacies of the relationship between the two countries.
She staggered to the kitchen. “Thank God there’s coffee.”
I nodded absently.
“Oh, it’s the king?” She sat next to me with a steaming mug.
I didn’t respond.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
“Trade meetings. Sugar taxes. That kind of thing.” I acted as if the details of trade tax bored me. And under any other circumstance, it did.
“Oh?” She lifted the mug to her lips. “I didn’t know you were interested in Galona politics.” I saw the smirk behind the coffee mug.
“There’s nothing wrong with taking interest in the country that is currently our home.” I felt defensive. As if I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“Mmmhmm. And it happens that the king is hot as fuck.”
“Brooklyn.” I eyed her.
“You’re not going to tell me anything? Really?”
“We can’t.”
She huffed. “You’re not serious about the contract. I was planning on telling you, anyway.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“Mol, it’s not like security from The Titan is going to break in here and arrest us. It’s us. We can tell each other anything we want. Screw them.”
The news cut away to the weather. I didn’t know how long it would be until the press conference. I needed to stop procrastinating and focus on my notecards. I was losing time. I turned the TV off.
“You’re not going to watch?” She looked surprised.
“It doesn’t matter. I have work to do. We both knew what we signed up for. That night is over, and talking about it doesn’t get me any closer to completing my dissertation.”