The next morning, I couldn’t believe I had sent the king a nude selfie.

Well, it wasn’t completely nude. I had a shirt and panties on, actually, so it wasn’t really nude at all. Still, it was a sext for sure, and there was no other way to read that message.

I didn’t know what I had been thinking. I guess I had wanted to rile him up, but I’d also wanted him to know that I was sorry. It had felt right at the time, and I didn’t regret it, but it was outside my character.

I was a good girl. I didn’t do things like flirt with kings in swimming pools. Except now apparently I was that kind of person.

And I still was worried about his whole dictatorship thing. I didn’t know how I felt about flirting with a man who was possibly telling people to commit war crimes. Trip was a good person, but he was right: War was more complicated than I realized, and that meant maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.

I had two dueling sides in my mind. On the one hand, I wanted Trip the man. I wanted him to kiss me again, to let me get inside his defenses, to find out what made him do the things he did. But on the other, I was afraid of Trip the king. I was afraid of the person I would become if I got involved in his world, and I was afraid of the person the crown made him.

He had so much power. He ruled over an entire country. You didn’t get much more powerful than that. And they always said that absolute power corrupted absolutely.

Trip didn’t seem corrupt. Trip seemed like a cocky asshole, but he wasn’t corrupt.

Or maybe I didn’t know him.

I sighed, lounging on the couch. I was waiting for my dad to come get me so we could go for a walk, and my mind was moving a mile a minute.

After ten minutes of agonized waiting, he finally knocked. I got up and answered. Dad smiled at me. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

I stepped out into the hall.

“Do you know where you’re going?” he asked.

“No clue. Do you?”

“Nope,” he said, laughing. “Let’s get lost.”

As we began to walk, I reflected on how supportive my father had always been of me. He was always there no matter what. In fact, as far as I could tell, this was the first time he wasn’t doing exactly what I wanted him to do. Instead, he insisted that we stay.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Sure.”

“Why did you want me to stay? I don’t think you actually want me to marry the king.”

He laughed. “No, I don’t.”

“So why did you want us to stay?”

“Honestly, honey, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. This castle, these people, we’ll never have any of this again. I wanted you to experience it before we went back home.”

I nodded. “I get that. But still, what if I did marry him?”

He laughed, shrugging. “Well, I guess then you’d be the queen.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

“I’d be okay with anything you wanted to do, Bryce,” he said.

I believed him, but still I couldn’t imagine he didn’t have any reservations about entering into the royal family of a country we knew nothing about.

We walked through the twisting hallways, looking around at all the expensive paintings and sculptures. Dad pointed out some paintings he recognized, which were apparently pretty famous.

I couldn’t help but have a sudden sense of vertigo in that hallway. There I was, a completely normal, regular girl, walking through a castle full of famous paintings. It was so incredibly strange that I could barely stand it.

“Dad,” I said after a while of wandering, “how do you feel about this monarchy thing?”

“It’s different,” he said.

“Yeah, but, wasn’t the whole point of America to get rid of the British monarchy?”

He laughed. “Basically, but I think it was more about being annoyed over taxation without representation.”

“But aren’t people in a democracy freer?”

“Maybe,” he said, “and maybe not. People have been debating this for thousands of years, honey. This country has been very stable for a very long time under the monarchy. Who’s to say that’s a bad thing?”

I nodded. That made sense to me, but still. I had been conditioned to love democracy; the whole idea of a king seemed so totally off to me.

“I don’t know,” I said finally. “I can’t imagine being the queen.”

“Then don’t be,” Dad said. “Or, just imagine being Trip’s wife. That’s more important. If you like the guy, maybe it’s worth pursuing. If you don’t, well, that’s okay. At least we got an awesome vacation out of all this.”

I sighed, shaking my head. He wasn’t helping all that much. “At least Lucy would love it if I married him.”

“Look, forget about Lucy and forget about politics.” Dad stopped and faced me. He put on his serious face, the expression he saved for only important conversations. “This is about your future, kid. This is about you and Trip and nothing else. Forget about monarchies and democracies and all that stuff; it just doesn’t matter. Focus on you and Trip.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. That makes sense.”

He gave me a stupid grin. “Does it feel weird taking love advice from your father?”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, laughing, as we began to walk again. “There’s no love here.”

“Whatever you say.”

As we went along the hallways, I had to admit that I did feel a little better. Dad was right. In the end, whatever I decided to do was between me and Trip. It wasn’t about politics. It was about love.

We finally finished our walk after having to ask directions a few times. Dad went back to his room and I slipped back into mine, feeling tired but better. It was still early and I had most of the day ahead of me.

As I walked into my room, I stopped and noticed something. The servants must have come in and cleaned, because everything had been tidied up. There was also a black box on the bedspread.

I walked over and opened it. Inside was a brand new bikini plus a note.

“Hope I didn’t ruin the last one. Trip.”

I smiled to myself, shaking my head. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text.

“Thanks for the bikini. I’m wearing it right now.”

“Hold that thought,” he answered almost right away. “I’m coming to you.”

“Don’t bother. Already got changed. How’s the country?”

“It’s going. I want to show you something.”

I bit my lip. “What is it this time? Going to tear all my clothes off and throw them off the battlements?”

“Yes, if you’d like.”

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll come get you soon. Wait for me.”

“Okay.”

I tossed my phone aside and lay back in bed. I had nothing better to do, and besides, hanging out with Trip sounded pretty good.

My dad was right. Maybe it was weird to talk to him about it, but I had nobody else. In the end, this was about me and Trip as people, not about politics.

I had to forget about being a queen and forget about the king. I had to focus on Trip.

And focusing on Trip wasn’t hard at all.