The next day, Esme was determined to stay on schedule and away from Z. Not because she didn’t enjoy his company, but because she did. Too much. Their weeks together in the townhouse back in DC had forged strong bonds between them, despite the nature of their deal, and now she feared she was becoming far too dependent on his support. It was just so darned easy to lean on his strength while her reserves were depleted by pregnancy.

But she had to learn to stand on her own, to be her own protector—and her child’s, as well. After Silvester’s reaction to her news yesterday, satisfying as it had been to stick it to the guy, she had to remain vigilant. Her son might hold the future of the kingdom in his tiny little hands, but for him to keep it, she needed to take charge and focus on ruling in his stead, putting Z and all the delicious things he made her feel out of her mind for now.

To that end, she strode down the hall of the administrative wing toward Greaves’s office. She’d not spoken to her father’s top intelligence advisor since that day he’d appointed Z to head her security team in DC. This morning, she’d asked him for a private meeting to go over the state of things in Prylea following her absence.

She knocked on the thick oak door before entering. Greaves sat behind his massive desk, looking far too blob-like for her comfort. He rose and gave a slight bow, his jowls quivering with the effort. “Your highness. Always a pleasure to see you again, Princess Esme. I was over to see your father earlier today. Such a shame. Such a fine, fine man to be laid so low by that awful disease.”

“Yes, thank you.” Esme took a seat before his desk and crossed her legs at the ankle, glad she’d worn black pants and a sweater today to fend off the chilly air in his office. “I’d like an update on the state of affairs here in the country. With the holidays approaching, I’m sure the staff has been busy.”

Greaves sat back and clasped his hands atop his bulbous stomach. He was dressed, as always, in a tailor-made, three-piece gray suit. Tailor-made, she guessed, because it would be difficult to find clothing to fit his bulk in regular stores. Also, the man made more money in his yearly salary than the entire budget of some other small European countries, so Esme had a hard time picturing the guy shopping the racks at a department store, even a high-end one.

“I’m afraid, your highness, that the news isn’t good.” Greaves cleared his throat, frowning. “You see, we’ve received a number of threats regarding the Christmas Markets. So far, we’ve been able to keep the threats quiet and out of the hands of the media, but the reports have been alarming enough for parliament to seriously consider cancelling the markets this year.”

“What? No. The Christmas Markets are a Prylean tradition.” Es leaned forward slightly. “They can’t be cancelled. Tourists love them. People travel from all over the world to shop the booths.” She shook her head. “No. We can’t cancel them. That will only let whoever’s making these threats feel more powerful. We need the Christmas Markets open, especially this year, with the king so ill. Pull extra security from the palace, but they must remain open and on schedule.”

“But your highness, I’m not sure that’s wise. We don’t want to compromise your safety either, with you carrying the royal child.”

“I’m fine.” She crossed her arms. “Seriously. Don’t worry about me. I always have Z to guard me, if need be.”

“Z?” Greaves raised an interested brow. “Yes, I suppose congratulations are in order on your upcoming nuptials. Though I must say, it was never my intention that things should go beyond the professional with you two when I assigned him as head of your security team in the States.”

“Yes, well.” Esme gave a dismissive wave. The last thing she wanted to discuss right now was her complicated relationship with her fiancé. “Like I said, don’t worry about protecting me. Worry about keeping this country’s infrastructure functioning. I’ll handle the rest. Our people have been through enough with the king’s sickness and the threat of Silvester taking over everything. We need to boost morale, and the Christmas Markets are the way to do it. Now, what else do I need to know about?”

Three hours later, Esme left with a head full of facts and figures and a stomach growling for lunch. She’d been so engrossed in talking to Greaves she’d missed her mid-morning snack and was now starving. She made her way past the empty formal dining room and down the hall to the kitchens. When she’d been little, she’d eaten lunch in here with the servants while her parents tended to their royal duties. It had been fun to spend time with the household staff who treated her more like a regular person and less like a princess.

She stood on the threshold of the large, stone kitchen, original to the palace though fully updated with all the modern amenities and a vast array of gleaming stainless-steel appliances. The cook, a portly woman in her mid-sixties named Annie, clapped when she saw Esme in the doorway.

“Esme!” Annie rushed over and pulled Es into a bear hug. “How are you, my girl? We missed you while you were gone. How’s your father? So sad what he’s going through. Lost my dear husband to cancer a year ago, so I know how hard it is to go through.” Annie pulled back and looked Es up and down. “And I saw on TV you’ve got a bun in the oven, too. Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Esme greeted the other staff milling about then took a seat at the sturdy butcher-block table to one side of the room. “I was hoping maybe to get a bite to eat?”

“Anything for you, my dear.” Annie smiled. “How about some nice soup and a couple slices of homemade bread?”

“Sounds divine.”

“Es?” A familiar deep voice said from across the room. Z. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You missed your mid-morning snack, and you went off without any crackers or ginger candy and I know how you get and—”

He stopped halfway across the kitchen as he realized all the staff were listening in. Z halted, a hint of color flushing his tanned cheeks. “Uh, sorry. Am I not supposed to be in here?”

Annie walked over to him, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she went, surveying him up and down. “So you’re the man who’s going to marry our princess, eh?”

Z’s gaze darted from Annie to Esme then back again, his expression wary. “Yes.”

“Do you love her?” Annie asked, forward as always.

“Uh…well.” The flush deepened in his handsome face and he seemed flustered for the first time that Esme could remember and darned if it didn’t make him even more adorable and endearing. He cleared his throat nervously, then nodded. “Of course. How could you not love Es?”

Annie narrowed her gaze on him, silent for a long moment, then broke into a wide grin. “How, indeed. Welcome to the palace, my boy. Have a seat. I was just getting our princess some lunch. Would you like soup and bread, too?”

Z seemed shocked by the offer for a moment, then smiled back at her. “I’d love some, thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Annie patted him on the back. “Have a seat.”

He settled in across from Esme, looking far too gorgeous for his own good in a pale-blue turtleneck sweater that set off his beautiful eyes, and a pair of camel-colored trousers that cupped his taut butt to perfection. She shook off her heated thoughts and focused on the tabletop instead.

“How’d your meeting with Greaves go?” Z asked.

“He said parliament was considering canceling the Christmas Markets this year due to security threats. I told him no, not under any circumstances.”

“I’m not surprised they wanted to cancel them.” Z sat back, his tone annoyed. “You should have let them.”

“What? Why?” Now it was Esme’s turn to feel annoyed. “Those markets are a huge draw for tourism here in Prylea. Not to mention, they bolster the national morale. Giving into threats will play right into the fears Silvester has been manipulating all over the country.”

“Yes, but you have no idea how dismal the current state of national security is here, princess.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and lowering his voice. “While you spent your morning with Greaves. I spent mine in the security offices going over all the stuff I missed while we were gone. Seriously, Es. The military here is spread way too thin, no thanks to your cousin, who spent the last two months slowly dismantling everything your father tried to build up. When you left to go to the States, along with your father, that left Silvester as the highest-ranking member of the royal family left in Prylea. Most of the power and authority stayed in your hands, but he can still take certain, limited actions that directly relate to national security as long as he gets approval from the parliament.”

“Ugh. And he’s got enough allies in the government to back him up. He’s also smart and good at PR.” All Es’s energy and enthusiasm from earlier deflated, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exhausted. She slumped in her seat. “What else is he cooking up, I wonder?”

“I don’t know, but I do know what I plan to do. With your permission, princess.” He looked at her, his blue eyes warm and earnest. She nodded. “Good. Okay. First, I want to freeze the current security measures and up the protection for you and your father. With the baby coming that will only invite more death threats.” Her eyes widened and he reached over to take her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

“But I do worry, that’s the problem,” Es said, pulling free. “I worry that I’ve become too dependent on you. I realize it’s your job to protect me, but what do I do afterward?”

Annie carried over a tray with their food and placed it down. Both Esme and Z thanked her, staying silent until she’d walked away.

“Es, I’m only trying to help here,” Z said, placing his napkin in his lap before slathering fresh butter onto his bread.

“I know, but I need to be strong myself. I told Greaves to pull security from the palace to use if needed at the Christmas Markets. That order stands. We cannot cancel the markets. Not this year. Too much is at stake.”

“Exactly!” Z said, before lowering his voice again. “Too much at stake. That’s exactly why we need to cancel them, or at least cut them in half. Listen, we need more time, more information, before you make any final decisions here.”

“No. I don’t. The Christmas Markets are a Prylean tradition. The country needs them, and it’s my responsibility to act in the nation’s best interests. We do it my way.”

“Even if your way leaves your father at risk?” Z asked, his lips compressed. “Please don’t make me do this, Es. I don’t want us to fight about this. We need to display a united front, now more than ever. But if it means keeping you and your father safe, I will do whatever it takes.” He sighed and hung his head. “Even if it means going over your head to Greaves to make it happen. I know the rules. If the head of security has reason to believe a monarch’s life is in danger, they can petition to have even the ruler’s orders changed.”

“You wouldn’t,” Esme said, stopping mid-bite of bread, her eyes narrowed and her tone accusatory. She liked Z, far more than was wise, but she would not put up with being bullied. Not by him, not by anyone. “Don’t cross me.”

“Then don’t make me do it,” Z countered, standing firm. “Just think about what I said. I love a good Christmas Market myself, but not at the expense of you and our baby and the king’s safety.”

Hungry as she was, Esme couldn’t take another bite of the delicious soup until she dealt with this mess. She tamped down her anger and did her best to respond calmly. “Look, I appreciate the difficult position this puts you in, but I will not give up on this. Prylea does not have a history of violence or attacks. We are a neutral country, like Switzerland, and do our best to fly under the political turmoil radar. The threats are an attempt to create anxiety and discord to destabilize our country, and that’s something I can’t allow. That will only give credence to Silvester’s narrow-minded, nationalistic cause in the eyes of the people. He’s trying to rally everyone to his side through fear—but I’m going to counter that with authority and tradition. I’m the daughter of the king, and I’m carrying our next ruler. I intend to make an announcement tomorrow to the public about our son. That, along with the festivities surrounding the Christmas Markets, should put an end to his machinations once and for all.”

Z gave a derisive snort and shook his head, his expression peeved. “Well, it will put an end to some things all right, quite possibly including you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Esme glanced over to see Annie and the kitchen staff doing their level best to ignore the fight raging between her and Z, though she’d lay money they were all eavesdropping shamelessly. Still, she wasn’t giving up this battle now. “What can he do? Silvester’s greedy, but he’s not stupid. If he tried to pull something now, he’d be caught.”

“Not necessarily.” Z’s tone was ice cold. “The guy’s pissed. He’s not thinking rationally about any of this at this point. And what if he’s already laid the groundwork for a coup, huh? Maybe he already got it all in place before we returned and he’s just waiting to spring it on us. A chaotic Christmas Market seems like it’d be the perfect place, at least to me. But then what do I know, right? After all, I’m not a native Prylean. I don’t understand your traditions.”

She barely avoided a wince at him throwing her words back in her face. “That isn’t what I meant. And if he does have something planned, you’ll discover it. That’s your job and you’re the best at what you did. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

A muscle ticked near his tight jaw. “You’re not thinking clearly, princess. Perhaps your hormones have—”

Yep. That did it. An audible gasp came from the kitchen staff as Esme tossed down her napkin and rose to her feet, spine straight and shoulders squared. “Excuse me? My hormones have nothing to do with this. I am Princess Esme, her royal highness of Prylea. You are my fiancé, and the head of my security team. Nothing more. You have no power here to make judgments about me or my decisions. If you’d care to continue in either of those roles, I’d suggest you remember that.” Her stomach cramped as another thought occurred, sending what she thought she knew about the man before her careening down a different path. Gaze narrowed, she stared into his chilly blue eyes. “Is that why you agreed to marry me? Did you think that by becoming my prince consort that you’d gain political power here? I sincerely hope not, because I can guarantee you that won’t happen. Not after your snide comments about my hormones just now. How dare you come in here and deign to think you control me. I thought this was an equal partnership between us, one with respect, but it appears I was mistaken. Consider yourself hereby removed from your position as head of my security team.”

“Wait a damned minute!” Z rose to his feet as well, dots of crimson lining his high cheekbones. “I meant no disrespect and you know it. We’ve both joked about all the changes you’re going through with this pregnancy, and I’ve never once doubted or questioned your abilities. You can’t fire me. You’ll never find anyone whose more passionate about protecting you or our baby, or this country. No one. Es, please. I—”

“Sir?” A guard stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, out of breath. “I’m sorry to interrupt you lunch, sir, but I thought you’d want to know right away. There’s been a bomb scare at the Christmas Markets.”

Esme gripped the edge of the table tightly as her world tipped on its axis. Z immediately rushed to her side and eased her back down into her seat, kneeling beside her as she took several deep breaths to regain her equilibrium. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, your highness,” the guard said. “Luckily, the military bomb squad was able to diffuse it without incident.”

“Thank goodness.” The blood pounded in her ears and heat prickled her cheeks. Z had his hand on the nape of her neck, stroking gently as if settling a spooked horse. His whispered words offered soothing comfort and that was the problem. She’d become too dependent on the comfort he offered, to the point where she’d allowed him to cloud her judgment when it came to ruling her country. That was unacceptable. Slowly, she pulled free of his touch and forced herself to stand once more, ignoring the weight of his stare burning through her. She concentrated on the guard instead. “Can you take me to the security offices? I’d like to be briefed on the latest developments, please.”

The guard’s gaze darted from her to Z then back again. “Of course, your highness. Allow me to escort you.”

Hard as it was, she left Z behind in the kitchens and followed the guard to the busy command center of palace security, not looking behind her to see if he accompanied them. Inside the briefing room, the walls were lined with computers and monitors and men talking on Bluetooth headsets to various law enforcement officials.

“Over here, your highness,” the guard said, directing her to an open station where she could sit and watch everything happening on the monitors in front of her. The line of security men bowed as she passed them. At last, she was able to concentrate on the images flickering on the screen before her while the guard explained what was happening.

“There,” he said, pointing toward a spot in the upper-right-hand corner of the screen. “They found a homemade incendiary device in that trash can near the train station. As I said, the squad was able to diffuse it without incident. From what we’ve been told, it was crudely made and most likely wouldn’t have detonated anyway, but better safe than sorry.”

“Yes,” she murmured, still staring at the screen. This was exactly why they needed more manpower at the markets and this gave her the perfect argument to all but ensure her father would agree to pulling guards from the palace to accommodate her wishes. A sense of vindication swelled inside her chest, along with confidence. Perhaps she could do this on her own. Rule the country, raise her child. If this was any indication, her instincts were exactly on target. She could only hope that signaled that she would get the job done and do it in style. Esme swiveled in her chair to face the guard. “I’d like to schedule a press conference for later this afternoon. We can reassure people about what happened here with this bomb scare and then I have a few personal announcements to make. Can you coordinate that for me with the staff, please?”

The guard’s eyes widened slightly. “Uh, I can, your highness, but shouldn’t Mr. Raybourn—”

Esme held up a hand, her chin raised. “No. Mr. Raybourn has been relieved of his duties as head of my security team. For the time being, all security questions will be directed to me personally, understand?”

“Yes, your highness,” the guard said, looking wary. “I’ll get with the PR staff now.”

“Thank you.” Esme left the briefing room and headed back toward the kitchens, only to find Z gone. When she questioned Annie about his whereabouts, all she said was the that he’d stormed out shortly after she’d left. No notice of where he was going. It was just as well, Esme supposed. She’d need to get used to dealing with matters without his support. She turned and headed for her father’s rooms instead, eager to tell him about what had happened at the markets and get his agreement to pull guards from the palace. But when she walked into his private suite, the king was nowhere to be found, there was only Z standing by his bedside. “What are you doing here?” she asked, fear tightening her chest. “What’s happened to my father?”

Z looked slowly from the rumpled sheets on the empty bed to her. “He’s taken a turn for the worse, princess. They’ve rushed him to the hospital.”

Esme placed her hand against the wall, the lack of food and the mounting stress taking its toll on her wobbly knees. Z was at her side once more, slipping his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. “We need to go to the hospital, now. I want to be with my father.”

“Of course, princess.” Z helped her toward the door. “I’ll have the car brought around now.”