Royally Not Ready(116)
Her eyes widen. “What? No. I’d never betray Keller and you like that.”
“You’re right; I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “When he left here, he made it seem like he knew who it was, and when you said he went to your room, I just assumed. I’m sorry.”
“No, that makes sense, and he does know who it is.”
“Who?” I ask. “Who would do that?”
“Brimar,” Lara says, her voice sad and full of shame simultaneously.
“Brimar?” I ask, shocked. Stunned. “That can’t be true.”
“Keller is right. Only two people in this world know the information in that text message. One of them is me, and the other is Brimar.”
“But . . . why? Why would he do something like that? Provoke Keller?”
“I wish I could tell you. He hasn’t said anything to me, but I feel so sick about it and embarrassed.”
“Why are you embarrassed? You didn’t do anything.”
“I know, but he’s my boyfriend and we’re attached, you know? That’s why I came here, because I wanted you to know I had nothing to do with the text, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Keller said he didn’t really talk to you about anything.”
“He didn’t. He just left, and now I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Are you upset about the information? Do you believe it?”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe the part about Keller wanting the throne. From all the conversations we’ve had, I know that’s not the case with him. Am I upset about the adoption? No. I mean, do I wish he had told me something like that? Something so important? Of course I do, but I’m not upset about it. The text was mean-spirited and clearly meant to hurt Keller and play on all his insecurities, which in turn hurts me. But the information in that text, I’m not mad about that. I just wish he was here to talk to me. To hold me.”
“I understand that.” Lara reaches out her hand to me and I take it.
“Where is he now?”
Wincing, Lara tears her eyes away and says, “I think he’s going to confront Brimar. I begged him to do it in the morning, to not go, but he left my room without a word.”
“Where’s he headed?” I ask, worry etching up my spine.
“Where Brimar is, the Crowned Cod, a pub just outside of the palace walls, mainly patronized by Strombly staff.”
I flip the blankets off me and stand from the bed.
“What are you doing?” Lara asks.
“I’m going to go to the cod place.”
“Uh, no, you’re not,” Lara says.
Turning toward her, I say, “Lara, I need to speak to Keller. I need to stop him before he does something stupid. I don’t want him getting in a fight or . . . I don’t know . . . I just need to get to him.”
“That’s a terrible idea, and I truly care about you, Lilly, but I refuse to take you there.”
“Then I’ll go myself.”
“You won’t,” Lara says, standing as well. “Not only do you not belong in a place like the Crowned Cod, but it’ll ruin your welcoming tomorrow, which has been thoughtfully planned to make the best impression. If you show up at a pub the night before, rumors will spread, and it won’t be a good look. So many people are counting on tomorrow, so don’t ruin it out of a gut reaction.”
I hate that she’s right. My head is nodding, knowing precisely what she’s talking about, but my heart is bleeding, the need to stop Keller, to speak with him, driving me to do stupid things like step out into the capital in a pair of pajamas, looking for a man. Out of all the training I’ve been through, I know that gut reactions are not permitted. I need to be thoughtful about what I do and what I say.
Sad and worried, I climb back on the bed and pull my legs in again. “I hate this,” I say. “I texted him, I called him, left him voicemails begging him to come back to me, and he’s not listening. I just assumed that it could help if I saw him in person.”
“There’s no use now. In his head, he needs to fix this.”
“So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait?” I ask.
“Yes, wait and hope he doesn’t get into trouble.”
KELLER
Silence has been echoing in my ears since I sat down in this dark abyss of a room. Not even a distant cough or laugh, just complete and total silence, which has caused me to live in my thoughts.
My insecurities are roaring to life.
My need to distance myself leaving me feeling cold.
And that text message, burning a hole in my pocket, as I fucking wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Until it’s four in the morning and I hear the distant sound of feet clomping down the hallway. A familiar gait that I’ve come to know well. The slightest of limps from when he was training to become a guard and was cracked in the knee by an oncoming car. He rolled over the windshield and landed on his feet, but the damage was done.
And now, as I hear that limp come closer and closer, I dig my fingers into the arms of the chair I’m sitting in, trying to steady my breathing and my temper.
Lara was right, I couldn’t go to the pub, not with the risk of all eyes on us. So, instead, I went to his room, where I’ve been waiting ever since. And this is where I’ve been, in this chair, fucking waiting.