Leo did close his eyes. And there was her face. Round like a heart. Huge brown eyes shining back at him. A smile he ached to taste, but already knew it would be sweeter than the cookies she baked him.
He could deny it, but Daniel and Omar had always been able to see right through him. Leo slumped back in his seat and sighed. “It’s impossible.”
“She said no?”
“No. I can’t say yes. Even though I’ve never felt this way before. We are royals. We aren’t made to feel all these emotions and butterflies.” He sat forward, waving his hands in agitation. “You know, I always thought that was just a silly expression.”
“Having feelings?”
“What? No, the butterflies in your stomach. It’s real. There is something fluttering in my stomach. And I see stars, and I’m spouting poetry. But she’s all wrong for me. She lives in a fairytale world where princes come to the rescue. I’m a king with real responsibilities. She wouldn’t fit in my world. The p
artnership would benefit no one. She has no connections.”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about Lady Teresa of Almodovar?”
Omar leaned against the opposite car door and regarded Leo. Leo turned away from his friend. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, then it scrubbed over his face. But he couldn’t hide from his friend.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” the marquis said. “You’re smitten.”
“Why do people keep saying that?”
“Saying what? That you’re smitten?”
“No, that they never believed I could be. That I never could …” He let the sentence trail off. He couldn’t say he’d fallen in love. That was too far. “It’s like my closest friends see me as some cold automaton.”
“Because you are a cold automaton in this aspect of your life. It’s always been duty first with you, even when we were children. I assumed your heart was mechanical, running on the fumes of your conquering ancestors. But, look,” Omar leaned forward, opening his eyes with wide with exaggerated disbelief, “you’re a real boy after all.”
Leo reached over and punched his friend in the shoulder.
Omar only laughed at the jab. He knew he’d struck home. “Who is this Geppetto?”
Leo clenched his lips tight. He couldn’t speak her name, or else the butterflies would be set loose into the world.
“She must be a new and recent addition to our circle,” Omar began to deduce. “But you said she had no connections? A commoner?”
Leo looked out the window. It was the only way he could think to give away nothing to his friend who saw everything, more than he ever let on. An automaton?
Leo had intended to ignore his friend for the remainder of the car ride. Luckily, when he looked out the window, he saw they were pulling through the gates of the palace. As they angled around back, Leo saw that there was some kind of commotion in the gardens.
A small crowd had gathered. There were mainly children, a few staff members, and other adults. They all stood around the decapitated head of what once was a stone dragon statue.
“What’s this?” Leo asked as he approached the group. His feet stopped when Esme broke from the crowd.
He’d had every intention of avoiding her over the next few days. He hadn’t even made it past the first day. Her hair was loose. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright. Set against the backdrop of his green gardens she looked every bit the picture of a damsel in distress.
“It’s my fault,” said Esme. “We were playing a game, and it got a little out of hand.”
“I thought it was a real dragon,” said the dark-haired boy. He was the Viscount of Jucar’s son. “I tried to slay it. I was trying to save the gala.”
Esme got down and hugged the child who was close to tears. “You were a brave and valiant knight.”
“He’s no knight. He’s a future viscount.” The child’s father pulled his boy away and glared between his heir and Esme. “It was reckless and unbecoming of one of nobility.”
“He’s just a child,” said Esme.
“No, you little chit. He’s of noble blood, and he can’t behave in such a way. You’ll do well to not speak so forwardly to your betters.”
“That’s enough,” said Leo, his tired voice boomed loud enough to be heard in the turrets. “I’ll have you know, Jucar, that Ms. Picket is an honored guest of mine.”