The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

Then, all the prince’s warnings and evasions and conflicting messages bombarded him. The elevator doors slid closed, and Tristan was left wondering what the hell he should do.

32

9 September

Chicago

Ele arranged the tablet for her daily Skype chat with Millie. The predictability of the call provided some semblance of her old life, the one ruled by minute-by-minute obligations and duties. Ele knew the queen could locate her and call her home at any time. Part of her lived in nervous anticipation of the palace’s intent, but the other side of her was learning to let go of the things she couldn’t control. For whatever reason, her family had allowed her to run away and to stay hidden. They were smart enough to know it served the country’s purpose to leave her be, so she was determined to take advantage of the time. And she’d been doing that.

With Millie’s meticulous research, they’d secured a counselor who specialized in anxiety disorders and PTSD. Every time Ele left a session, she was exhausted and wrung out. For the first time in years, she’d relived that fateful day from start to finish. Snapshots of her parents flooded her mind, and she feared the nightmares would start again. But instead, the weight of her sorrow and fear began to lift. It happened over weeks, so every day, she breathed a little easier. Her hypervigilance slowly succumbed to a more natural awareness of her surroundings. She took small risks. Her first was an unplanned trip to the grocery store, a block from her rented apartment. It seemed stupid to take such pride in the short walk, but in the last twelve years, aside from her time with Tristan, she hadn’t gone anywhere without at least twenty-four-hour advance notice. After that first foray into normalcy, the excursions had come easier, and the nervousness had seemed to fade quicker.

The apartment oasis where she lived gave her a safe place to decompress. Although smaller than her suite of rooms at home, it opened up to a little garden where Ele found herself spending a lot of time. With the cooperating weather, she would sip her coffee or tea and lose herself in the sounds of the city. At least once a day, she thought of Robert’s reaction if he knew she was living in a ground-floor apartment in a major city.

Missing her people was the only notable downside to her temporary life. Before she had come to Chicago, Ele had considered her circle of trust to be bought and paid for. Millie, Robert, and Michael were with her almost every waking minute of every day, and she trusted them with her life. She also had Beatrix, whose quirky outlook often provided Ele with some lightness. But they were her employees, and she was always aware of their obligations to her. Being away from everyone provided some perspective. Millie had set up a dummy email account for Ele. Every day, Michael and Beatrix emailed her—checking in, sharing funny stories they knew she would appreciate, and generally telling her they cared for her, even when they weren’t caring for her. The friendship they offered made her realize they were her village, no matter how they had come to be there.

Her computer rang with Millie’s Skype call. Ele stationed herself in front of the tablet and waited.

“Good morning,” Millie said finally.

Ele smiled at her friend. “Good afternoon. Have you had a busy day thus far?”

Millie looked a little frazzled. The first couple of weeks after Ele’s departure, worry had shadowed Millie’s countenance, but gradually, much like Ele’s fears, it was gently giving way to a more put-together assistant.

Millie bit down on her lip and then grimaced. “I still haven’t been able to figure out where Robert is.” It was the way they began every conversation.

Ele had come to a realization two days after she left home. She’d been reluctant to give voice to it, like saying it would make it true. But at Millie’s disheartened expression, Ele found she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Mil, if you can’t find Robert, it’s because he doesn’t want to be found.”

A pang swept through her. Goodness, that hurts to admit.

Millie blinked. “I know.”

“You just didn’t want to say anything?”

“Right. I hate disappointing you.”

“Yes, well, you can’t disappoint me more than Robert’s disappearing act.”

“Ele.” Millie rarely called her by her name. As close as they were, duty trumped familiarity. “If Robert doesn’t want to be found, it’s because he thinks it’s best for you. That man has always put you first.”

Isn’t that the truth?

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She missed Robert. But she knew the truth of Millie’s words. Placing a hand under each of her eyes, she held back the tears with her fingers and force of will. If Robert’s defection was deliberate, did that mean he was gone from her forever?

Millie straightened on the other side of the connection. “Is your hair purple?” she asked in disbelief.

Glancing away from the tablet, Ele shrugged sheepishly. “Just the ends.”

She’d chopped several inches off her hair, and then, on a whim she couldn’t explain in retrospect, she’d dyed the ends purple. The shortened hair tended toward beachy waves, and Ele had a hard time reconciling the woman she was becoming with the one she’d been.

“I thought the helix piercing was enough,” Millie muttered.

Ele giggled and then slapped her hand over her mouth. But she knew her eyes were dancing with mirth because, when her gaze met Millie’s, her friend began to laugh. The piercing had hurt like the dickens and was still a bit tender. Her index finger nudged the jeweled red stud, testing its sensitivity, and she winced only a little. Her ear had become her own cheesy metaphor for her heart. The sharp bite of pain from the puncture of the needle had wounded her, making her suck in air and breathe deeply through it. And that first night, she could hardly stand to touch it. But each day, the pain receded a little. She knew there would come a day when it would cease to hurt, but the jewelry would always stay there, reminding her of what had been.

Who knew a vacation from princessing would turn her into a melodramatic sap?

When their laughter ceased, Millie got serious again. “I have some other news.”

“Bad?”