A Prince on Paper (Reluctant Royals #3)(32)

“Nya?” Portia’s voice sounded outside the door, paired with a firm, efficient knock that had to be Ledi.

Nya took a deep steadying breath. She was sad and listless, her back felt like it was being punched by tiny goblins, and her stomach seemed ready to betray her, but she’d already lost hours of quality time with her friends by wallowing in her embarrassment. She rolled to her side and called out, “Come in!”

Ledi and Portia entered looking radiant, in part because of the sunlight pouring through the door behind them. She glanced at her window to see that the heavy, light-blocking curtains were still drawn.

“What time is it?” she asked, sitting up.

“Time for the reception brunch,” Ledi said, coming to sit at the foot of her bed. Portia sat on the other side, and they each leaned back against a bamboo bedpost. “Are you feeling okay?”

She’d texted them what had happened when she’d awoken to an alarm to check One True Prince, and told them not to worry.

“I am embarrassed,” she said, flopping back onto her pillows.

“Don’t worry, no one saw your dress. Not a peep on social media so far. And even if they had, so what? It’s natural.” Portia’s resolute tone indicated she would kneecap anyone who bothered Nya about it.

“Not because of that. Because of Johan.” Nya pulled the sheet up to her chin. “He must think I’m ridiculous, not even knowing my own courses. But I almost never have them! I thought it was just the stress of returning home making me feel strange.”

“Have you been to a doctor about that?” Ledi asked, always the professional. “Irregular periods are fairly common, and they can put you on birth control to regulate it. You should also make sure it’s not something serious.”

“I will do that,” she said, then took a deep breath. “I was scared to go before because I was worried they would ask why a woman almost thirty from a nation with universal health care had never had such troubles looked at before.”

“So. Like. Why is that?” Ledi asked quietly.

Nya’s stomach roiled, and she wasn’t sure if it was with upset or because she was about to say something she’d never told anyone before. Ledi had always questioned her about her health, and Nya had always evaded, but now . . .

She looked down, and so she was able to see both Portia and Ledi’s hands as they reached for hers and squeezed.

“Until you came to Thesolo, I was always sick. My childhood doctors assumed it was just my frail nature, as my father constantly told them, because there was no pattern and seemingly no cause, and I’d accepted that. But I’ve had time to think, without my father always telling me what was true and what wasn’t. He knew how to use the traditional plants to do many things, and—” Tears filled her eyes. She tried to say more but the words choked in her throat, blocked there like the warnings she’d wanted to give Ledi when Alehk Jerami had pressured her to drink more tea.

“And then he went to prison for poisoning me and suddenly you’re looking like a snack and getting your period,” Ledi finished angrily. “I had my suspicions and I didn’t want to push, but that motherfucker!”

Both of her friends squeezed Nya’s hands more tightly, holding on to her as if they were in a stormy sea together and they wouldn’t let her sink. She swallowed thickly.

“That asshole,” Portia said. “And he has the nerve to pull this now, after what he put you through?”

“Portia,” Ledi said in a quelling tone that made Nya’s head snap up. She drew her hands away and laced her fingers together.

“What do you mean ‘now’?” she asked, dread icing her from her feet to her scalp.

“Your father heard you were back,” Ledi said, and though her voice was calm her face was taut with anger. “He’s been demanding to see you. And he says that he will not share the extent of his dealings—of the danger he put Thesolo in—until you pay him a visit.”

Nya hugged her arms around herself. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry, but I cannot. I will not.”

She couldn’t explain the sickness rising in her throat, or why she started to shake. Her father had never laid a hand on her, except to give her a loving pat. Never raised his voice, except to run off people he thought might harm her. He’d treated her like a fragile teacup that needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap and stored in a dark cupboard to keep it safe.

He’d told her everything he did was out of love. And, even if they hadn’t realized it, so had everyone else, by smiling and remarking what a good father he was, by absorbing his belief that she needed to be treated with care and following suit.

She wasn’t certain what would happen if she sat in front of him and looked into that face she both loved and hated. If he opened his mouth and spoke those words that had kept her under his control for so many years.

You took your mother from me. Would you leave me, too?

She’d fled without telling him, but even after her time in New York, she worried that her answer would be what he’d programmed her to say. No father. Never.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Ledi said fiercely. “Sorry, but fuck this motherfucker. You don’t owe him anything. But it also isn’t right to keep this from you, because you’re a grown woman and you can make your own decisions.”