Chapter 3

“Wow. Hostile much?” my brother asks, amusement obvious in his voice.

“Fuck, yeah, I’m hostile,” I answer after I’ve walked about thirty feet away from Lola. “You’re cock-blocking me from two hundred miles away. So tell me what you want or get the hell off the phone.”

“Nice. What’s her name?”

“None of your business.”

“Does that mean you don’t know it or—”

“Of course I know her name. I’m not you.”

“I’ll have you know that every time I’ve climbed into bed for the last eight months, I’ve known the name of the woman waiting for me there.”

“That’s not nearly the accomplishment you’re making it out to be, considering the whole country knows Savvy’s name. She’s set to be the next queen, after all.”

“Nobody’s set to be anything yet,” Kian tells me. “Except for Savvy being my wife—that’s nonnegotiable. But the rest is still up in the air. Your kidnapping made Dad lose his mind. Once he recovers it, things will go back to normal around here.”

“Have you met our father?”

“I have. And while I admit that he’s a stubborn ass, he’s also pretty damn good at what he does. It won’t take him long to figure out that he’s hurting the country with his bizarre determination to keep you off the throne.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”

“Oh, my hopes are way the fuck up, dude. Because no way can I do this shit for the rest of my life.” He sighs heavily. “I nearly caused an international incident this morning.”

Concern skitters down my spine. “With whom?”

“The president of South Africa.”

“What? How? You can’t do that! We need them for—”

“I know, I know. Believe me, I already got the lecture. That’s why I’m calling.”

“To get my opinion on how to smooth things over with South Africa?” I glance back at Lola, just to make sure she’s still where I left her. She is, though she’s now stretched facedown across the rock, sunning herself. “That depends on what got him—”

“No, that’s already taken care of. But I’ve got a call with Russia tomorrow about—”

“Laying the groundwork to lift sanctions in exchange for some human rights guarantees from them,” I finish. It’s a subject I’m intimately acquainted with, as I’ve been badgering my father about it for over five years.

“Exactly! And since my friendly conversation with South Africa accidentally took a not-so-friendly turn today, I’m afraid if I’m not careful, then I’ll really screw up this not-so-friendly conversation.”

Concern turns to alarm. “You really don’t want to do that.”

“I’m aware of that,” he half-snarls. “Which is why I’m calling you. Do you have a few minutes to talk me through it?”

Fuck. I barely resist the urge to bang my head against the nearest tree trunk. A few minutes? Right now, relations between our country and Russia are pretty close to an all-time low. And while there are certain sanctions I have no interest in lifting at all, there are a few that we can budge on—partly because they’ll help both economies and partly because they’re important enough to Russia to give us some bargaining chips in the human rights department. With the continued arrests and crackdown on political protestors of any kind by the government, the Russian people really need some relief.

We can be a part of making sure they get it, as long as my brother and father play their cards right.

With a sigh, I make my way deeper into the trees—some of the stuff we’ll be talking about walks the edge of being classified, and the last thing I need is for a woman I barely know to overhear me. Once I’m satisfied that I have total privacy, I get to work telling Kian everything he needs to know on a subject that I’ve spent years working on.

Forty-five minutes later, I finally feel like I’ve laid enough groundwork to end the conversation. There’s still more to tell him, but I can text him tonight, after I give the whole situation some more thought. The Russian ambassador that he’s going to be dealing with is touchy, to put it mildly, and he’s got to approach him just right or this whole thing is going to blow up before we even have a chance to get it off the ground.

“Okay, look, I’ve got to go,” I tell Kian, once he finishes going over the last few points we’ve been speaking about.

“Oh, right! You’ve got someone waiting on you—”

“Maybe.” I start walking back toward the lake. “Maybe I’ve got someone waiting on me.” Though I tend to doubt it. Lola’s not exactly the kind of girl to wait around for anyone, even a prince. Especially a second-rate prince who has nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon than to sunbathe.

“You still haven’t told me her name.”

“That’s because it’s still none of your business.” I jump over a log, then up my pace until I’m close to jogging.

“Geez, you’re getting touchy in your old age.”

“Don’t you mean your old age?”

“Umm, no. I’m the younger twin, remember? Those seven minutes make a difference.”

“You think so? Because I’m not feeling the difference so much lately.”

As soon as the words are out, I want to take them back. It’s not Kian’s fault that our father and national security advisors think I was compromised when I was kidnapped. Just like it’s not his fault that the King is debating whether or not to take his proposed changes in succession to the Parliament for a vote.

“Fuck. Garrett, I’m sorry this is all happening right now—”

“Don’t. This has nothing to do with you. Besides, maybe the King’s right. Maybe what happened to me does make me unfit to rule.” It’s just one of the thoughts that plagues me in the middle of the night when I’m too stressed out—too freaked out—to sleep.

“Bullshit. There’s never been anyone, ever, more equipped to rule Wildemar than you. Dad will come around—”

“He might not,” I remind him as I make a beeline for the last of the trees that frame the lake. “And that’s fine. You’ll make a really good king.”

Kian’s laugh is devoid of humor. “I’ll make a passable king. You would make a kick-ass one. We just have to remind our father of that.”

“No, we don’t have to do any of that. You have to do your best not to cause any more international incidents, and I need to—”

“Go get laid. Yeah, I got it.” This time Kian’s laugh sounds much more genuine. “Then again, I should probably do the same thing. Get myself nice and loose before the big meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh, absolutely. I always found that a good shag was exactly what put me in the royal frame of mind.”

“Really?”

“No! But say hello to Savvy for me, will you?”

“I will. She’s worried about you, you know.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “And so am I.”

“Are you kidding? What’s there to worry about? I’m having the time of my life.” I break through the trees as the lie trips convincingly—I hope—off my tongue. And find out that my gut instincts were exactly right. Every trace of Lola, from her sparkly flip-flops to her hot-pink backpack, is gone.