The cargo flight from New York to Lakovia was long and uncomfortable: we spent it strapped into the fold-down crew seats, passing around a thermos of coffee. But it got us there safely and with the time difference, we arrived early in the morning.

As we came in to land, I saw snow-capped mountains sweeping down to rich, green valleys and acre after acre of thick forest. It was beautiful...but it was as different from Texas as she was from me.

When we stepped off the plane, I shivered. It was cold, despite it being summer. A fresh, crisp kind of cold I’d never felt before: the air tasted so clean. Off in the distance, I could see the white turrets of what must be the palace. They poked up through a mist that seemed to shroud the whole country. It gave Lakovia a storybook feel. I half expected to see a dragon.

“It’s the altitude,” said Emerik, next to me. “Lakovia is so high in the mountains, we’re almost in the clouds.” He was having the opposite reaction: he was almost bathing in the frosty air, glad to be home.

“You’ll get used to it,” Jakov told me. He clapped me on the back and we started down the steps. A lot had changed in the last few days. When I’d first met the two guards, I’d been nothing but suspicious and Emerik had downright hated me. Now, after everything we’d been through, I’d trust them both with my life. In this strange place, they were the only friends I had.

Kristina stopped for a second when she reached the top of the steps and stood there, eyes closed, the breeze blowing her hair out behind her, as she took a big, grateful breath of mountain air. She fit here, I realized, in the same way I fit in Texas. She was home.

As we reached the bottom of the steps, we were surrounded by royal guards. For days, they’d been stuck here in Lakovia, helpless, while their princess was in danger in a foreign land. Now they finally had her back. Couple that with the fact she was now queen, and their King being shot, and they weren’t taking any chances. We were ushered straight to a heavily-armored SUV and the convoy was moving almost before the doors were closed. For a second, I wondered if I’d done the right thing. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she doesn’t need me, with all this protection.

But these men hadn’t been able to protect the King. I looked across at Kristina and my jaw set. I was right where I needed to be.

We’d barely left the airport when we heard an explosion in the distance. “What was that?” asked Kristina.

“Bombs, Your Majesty,” said the driver. “In the city. They started going off just before you landed.”

It was warm in the SUV and Kristina had slipped off her coat and laid it across our laps. She grabbed my hand under the fabric and squeezed. I squeezed back, trying to reassure her, but I was shaken. First her father being shot, now bombs? We’d spent days trying to get her home, where she’d be safe, but this place wasn’t safe anymore.

“You have a video call, Your Majesty,” said Emerik. “It’s the President of the United States.”

Kristina and I looked at each other in shock. Then she swallowed and nodded to a screen. “Put him through.” She took a deep breath, her face pale. I felt my chest ache in sympathy. She’d probably never spoken directly to a world leader before, certainly not our President, and never as the leader of a country herself. She was being thrown into this job long before she was ready—

She remembered something and quickly pulled her hands out from under the coat and folded them in her lap.

... and I can’t even hold her hand.

The screen lit up with the Presidential seal. And then it was him, sitting behind that famous, huge wooden desk, his face grim. I tried to work out how I felt. Awed, partly: I mean, it was the President, dammit. President Matthews is a Texan, like me, and I’ve always liked him: even more so after that whole thing with his daughter and the threat to our country. But he’s also a politician, part of the system that betrayed me. I couldn’t trust that system ever again.

“Your Majesty,” said the President. “I was so sorry to hear about your father.”

Kristina nodded stiffly, as if afraid to trust her voice.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened to you in my country. I want you to know that the FBI is working non-stop to get answers and they’ll continue to share all their information with the palace.”

“The men who attacked me weren’t American, Mr. President,” said Kristina.

“But it happened on my watch,” said the President. “You were a guest in my country and someone hurt you and for that I apologize.”

I was stunned. I’d never heard a politician speak from the heart like that.

“If there’s ever anything I can do for you,” said the President, “I hope you’ll ask. One more thing: I understand you have a Mr. Garrett Buchanan with you?”

I froze. Then swallowed and leaned slightly so I was in shot. “Yes, Mr. President?”

“Mr. Buchanan, you did a good thing. And I’m a big believer in second chances. Just... bear in mind that you’re representing America over there. Okay?”

I nodded. Awe was winning out over my distrust, and easily. “Yes, Mr. President,” I managed.

He ended the call. A moment later, everyone started craning their necks to look at something on our left, just becoming visible through the trees. “What is it?” I asked.

Kristina’s voice was thick with emotion. “We’re home.”