It takes most of the night and at least a hundred messages to get my plans in order. The first message I send is to Nate, telling him to get some sleep— if everything comes together the way I expect, he needs to be back early tomorrow morning.

The other messages go to the one person who can help me in New York City.

When I knock on the door to my father’s rooms at five in the morning, having slept only a few fitful hours, he’s already awake. That doesn’t come as much of a surprise. He’s always been an early riser, and since Marcus died, his nights have been even shorter. When he can’t sleep, he spends his time in the royal gym. No amount of exercise has been enough to keep Marcus—and Jessica—off my mind. I wonder if it’s working for him.

“Alexander,” he says, his hair still damp from the shower. He’s not dressed for the day yet, wearing a pair of loose linen pants and a polo shirt. “You’re up early.”

“I’ve been making plans,” I say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me. My father moves back across the living area and sits down at the small, round breakfast table. His breakfast must have just been delivered.

“I see. Are you hungry?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I realize that I am, in fact, ravenous. The dinner with Mariana seems like it was years ago. “Very.”

“I’ll have some food sent up.” He reaches across to a panel set back into the wall. My father still prefers to use the palace intercom whenever possible instead of the phone. The kitchen staff answers right away, and he tells the attendant to send up a second breakfast tray, then settles back into his seat. “What have you been planning? I take it your evening with Mariana was successful?” My father has a wary look in his eyes.

“It was all right. She’s an interesting woman.”

“From what I’ve heard about her, she’s very accomplished.”

“No doubt about that.”

“But this doesn’t have to do with her.”

“No.”

He gestures with his hands for me to continue.

“On the way back from dinner last night, Nate said some things that made me realize that I’ve gone about things the wrong way with Jessica.”

My father nods, folding his hands on his lap.

“What happened between us—I can’t leave it like that.”

There’s a knock at the door, and I stand up to answer it. The kitchen staff didn’t waste any time, although I’m also sure they don’t have many breakfast orders at this hour. I give the server—a wiry man with dark curls peeking out from under his uniform, a smile and stand back to let him in. “Good morning, your highness,” he says with a confident smile, not appearing the least bit tired, the least bit shaken by our presence. That’s a guy who’s going to go far, I think to myself as he moves across the room to the table, sets down the tray, and greets my father, who acknowledges him by name. That confirms it—the man has been up much too early for far too long. The royal family doesn’t generally tip—we leave that to our assistants—but my father presses a note into his hand, and he slips back out the door.

My father uncovers his tray and I uncover mine, and we’re both silent for a few minutes. The food is, as always, exquisite.

Patting the corners of his mouth with his cloth napkin, my father clears his throat. Napkin back in his lap, he reaches for the steaming mug of coffee sitting on the edge of the tray.

“It was Marcus’s heart, you know. I found out this morning.”

My gut goes cold.

“A defect,” my father says, and sips his coffee, the corner of his mouth turned down. He looks tired. “Maybe if he’d had more of a chance to use it.”

“That’s—” I choke on the words. “That’s very subtle, Dad.” I wish Marcus was here to tease me about this whole thing.

“What have you been planning, then?” he says casually, as if there had been no interruption.

“I have to go to New York to get her. At least to talk to her one last time.”

Now that breakfast is half-eaten, I’m gripped with a new urgency.

“The plane is yours if you need it.”

I’m a little taken aback that my father isn’t going to try to talk me out of this, isn’t going to try to convince me otherwise.

“I need it.” My voice is tight as I speak.

Without another word, my father reaches for the phone in his pocket, swipes the screen once, and dials. It’s not thirty seconds before he has the travel team getting the plane to the runway at Sainthall’s airport.

I stand up, putting my napkin down on my tray. My father sips his coffee again, then looks up into my eyes. I see in his face nothing but pride.

“Go,” he says, a smile spreading across his face. “Be safe.”

I move around the table and lean down, giving my father a kiss on the cheek for the first time in years. “I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

We were in the air inside of two hours, Nate sitting across from me on the royal jet. The flight is long enough that we’re both partaking in mimosas brought out by a trim flight attendant who might have kept my attention at another time in my life. Nate raises his glass to me across the aisle.

“What are we celebrating?” I say, my nerves already taut, on edge.

“Doing the right thing, old friend,” he says, and I can’t argue with that.

* * *

Everything proceeds smoothly for most of the flight. I can’t sleep—my heart races and my mind wanders when I close my eyes—but the royal jet is equipped with enough entertainment options to keep us occupied for at least a week. I flip through the movie selections without seeing them.

I need to get to Jessica in time, and I have a deadline. There’s no time to spare.

Christian is my contact on the ground in New York, and he answered enthusiastically when I messaged him last night. He’s throwing a going-away party for Jessica tonight at the Purple Swan, and that’s where I want to reach her. Because tomorrow she’s leaving the city, and she hasn’t given anyone her new address—a new start, I suppose. I’ll go to Seattle. If I have end up following her across the country, I’ll look like a deranged stalker.

It’s not ideal when the pilot calls back to tell me there’s a massive thunderstorm delaying our descent into New York.

My heart in my throat, I pull out my phone and connect to the in-flight Wi-Fi.

Everything good?

She’s leaving soon.

I check the local time. It’s nearly 10:30.

Stall her!

I’ll try…