21
BRYCE
The country estate was about what I imagined, but even more beautiful.
There was a single main house with a small grouping of other buildings and a few barns and stables for horses. There was a wall around the whole estate, and the place was absolutely crawling with security. They were spread out along the lawn one every fifty yards or so, and they were constantly patrolling.
The helicopters kept me up. I was exhausted as I leaned back in my chair, looking out the window.
I hadn't left my room yet. Trip had been whisked away with his security detail, and I'd been stuck getting dragged along in a different car. I wished I could talk to him, but I guessed he had really important things to do.
Which was unsurprising, considering there was a rebellion going on and we'd almost gotten killed.
As I tried to get some sleep when we finally got to the estate, I just kept seeing that man. I had been naked and so vulnerable, right after one of the best moments of my life. Trip had saved me, moving fast to get me out of the way, almost without any regard for his own wellbeing.
Everything after happened so fast. I'd left my parents behind, but now I was beginning to regret that. They should be with me, or at least I should be with them.
I barely knew this place. I barely knew Trip. And yet suddenly I was getting dragged around, thrust into the middle of some war I couldn't understand in a country where I didn't even speak the language.
I was so far out of my depths that it wasn't even funny. I could hardly breathe. I felt like I was stuck under the ocean, doggy paddling toward the surface.
But I wasn't in the ocean. I was sitting in a large, lovely old room in a comfortable chair looking out at a gorgeous view.
The memory of Trip's body flitted back through my mind. I could still feel his hands against my skin, his lips against my neck, the way he handled me and took me. The way he made my body feel.
That was the good part. That was the part I wanted. In that moment, I had called him my king, and I'd absolutely meant it. He could have taken me any time, any place.
Until that man showed up and destroyed whatever good feelings I'd had. He attacked us when we were at our most vulnerable, and I couldn't stop thinking about his disgusting face every time I imagined what it felt like to be with Trip.
He'd completely ruined that. He'd taken that moment and destroyed it. I hated him for trying to kill us, but I could never forgive him for destroying that intimacy.
I understood people did things like that. He was probably incredibly misguided and thought killing Trip would save the country. I might have been sympathetic if all I knew about the situation was that a bunch of democratic people wanted to overthrow a dictator.
But Trip wasn't a tyrant, and these democrats were a bunch of violent assholes. That guy just had no clue which side of history he was on.
And ultimately, that didn't matter. It wasn't my country. But Trip could mean something to me, although now things felt broken.
There was a knock at my door as I sat there stewing in my own misery.
"Come in," I called out, assuming it would be Maximillian again.
Trip stepped inside. "Bryce," he said.
I looked up. He grinned at me and nodded to the tray in his hands. "Hungry?"
I frowned. "Not really, no."
"Max said you haven't eaten."
"Does the king usually do room service?"
"Only when he's hungry, too."
"You haven't eaten either?"
"I'm not exactly hungry for food," he said, grinning.
I sighed. Trip looked incredible as always. He had on his formal suit, which was tailored perfectly to his muscular body. The stubble growing on his chin and cheeks made him look gorgeous.
"Okay, fine," I said.
"Get in bed and undress."
"I meant okay to the food."
"Oh," he said, smirking. "Damn." He walked over and put the tray down on the table. It had bread, meats, cheeses, and a little bowl of soup.
"Traditional Starklandian lunch," he said. "Local breads and cheeses, some smoked pig and cow, plus this special bean soup that we use as a dip, basically."
I nodded, not feeling hungry. "Looks good."
"Go ahead."
Trip took a piece of bread, dunked it in the soup, and started eating. I wanted to be polite, so I did the same thing.
And I sure as hell was glad I did. It was delicious, rich and earthy, with some spices I couldn't even begin to identify. The bread itself was incredible, crunchy on the outside and perfectly fluffy on the inside.
"Holy shit," I said through a mouthful. "This is amazing."
"You're welcome," he said, grinning.
"I mean, thanks."
"The chef here is impressive. He doesn't get to cook for the king very often, so he goes all out when he does."
"Tell him I was impressed."
He laughed, taking a bite of some cheese. "Sure, though I doubt he'll care much if some random American girl likes his cooking."
"He should care," I said. "I'm awesome."
"Yes, you are."
We ate for a minute or two in silence. The cheese was delicious, smooth and creamy and sharp all at once. The meat was good too, and clearly incredibly fresh.
"Most of this stuff is made right here on the grounds," Trip said, reading my mind.
"It's really good."
He nodded, and then he looked serious for a second. "Look, I'm not here just to feed you."
"I suspected that."
"I wanted to talk to you about what happened."
I looked away. "I don't think I want to."
"Okay," he said softly. "We don't have to."
"What's there to say?" I asked. "That guy was a prick. You did what you had to do."
"I know that."
"It was scary, okay? I keep thinking about it. I keep seeing his face."
"That sort of thing won't happen again," Trip said. "I promise."
I stared at him, and for some reason I believed him. Maybe it was the huge increase in security, or maybe it was the earnest and intense way he was staring at me, but I suddenly felt oddly safe.
"Okay," I said.
"You trust me?"
"I don't know," I admitted, "but right now I believe that if you could stop something bad from happening, you would."
"Good enough," he said, "because that's the truth."
"Has there ever been an assassination in Starkland before?" I asked him.
"Hundreds of years ago," he admitted. "Actually, historians think my family assassinated your family to take over the throne, but lots of people don't agree with that."
"Really?" I asked. "You jerk."
"Hey, not my fault. I'm barely related to those pricks anymore."
"You've got a little prick in you."
"And you had a nice, thick prick in you," he said, smirking.
I rolled my eyes. "Good one."
"Thank you."
"Just so we're clear, that wasn't a good joke. I'm not sure if you get sarcasm, since you're the king."
He laughed. "Why? Because I'm surrounded by yes men?"
I grinned at him. "Exactly. Everyone is obligated to laugh at your stupid jokes."
"Untrue. Back in nineteen ten, my ancestors decreed that no person shall fake laugh at the king's jokes."
"What penalty?"
"Death, of course."
I laughed, shaking my head. I suddenly felt starving and started to eat a bit more. He smiled at me and ate along with me.
For the first time since we left the castle, and since the man attacked, I felt okay. I didn't feel perfect again, but just laughing like this and acting normally with Trip was making me come back to myself. He was just so clever and charming, and the confidence with which he did everything was so impressive and alluring.
I had the stupid urge to reach across the table and touch his face, but I resisted. I didn't know where we stood. Maybe he'd gotten what he wanted and was finished with that. Maybe he was just protecting me because he felt obligated.
Whatever was happening, I felt better. We joked and laughed for a bit longer, until I realized, to my absolute horror, that I had eaten almost every single thing on the tray.
"Oh my god," I said, leaning back. "I ate like a pig. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said, laughing. "You're not capable of doing anything like a pig. And you needed to eat."
"Still, I shouldn't have gone to town like that. It was your lunch, too."
"I'm the king. I can eat more if I want."
I laughed. "Good point. I'm just a commoner after all. I should eat when I can. Who knows when we'll go hungry while you rich barons grow fat and happy."
He grinned, looking out the window. "It might have worked like that once, but not anymore. If my people were hungry, I'd go hungry, too. Fortunately that's not our problem."
"Civil war is your problem," I said softly.
"Yes. Civil fucking war."
We were silent for a second, and that thought hung in the air between us. Finally, I spoke up.
"Trip, I want my parents to come join us here."
He shook his head no. "We spoke about this. They're safest back at the castle."