quit. Working for the royal guard was an opportunity she’d shaped for herself. It was her chance to live an honorable life—to prove her own decency.
And she hadn’t proven it yet.
The tread of footsteps from below had her stiffening. Swiftly wiping her eyes on the sleeve of Hanna’s shirt, she looked up with a scowl.
“Chill, babe. It’s just me.” Zara Nguyen was regarding her with grim sympathy as she climbed the final few steps and sat beside her. She wore a light dress and flip-flops. Easy summer clothes to roll into after being rudely woken in the night. She extended her hands and a pile of chocolate bars rained down on the step between Frankie’s feet. “Supplies.”
Frankie sniffled, cheeks heating. “I didn’t ask you to come.”
“Yeah, well.” Leaning back on her palms, Zara gave a small smile. “Women-in-need is kind of my thing.”
God, was that how Zara saw her? Frankie set her shoulders, sitting straighter.
They’d met months ago while helping with Ava’s escape, and soon after, Frankie had offered to deliver weekly self-defense classes at Zara’s women’s shelter. In that time, she’d warmed to the woman’s crass friendship—obviously more than she’d realized, since she’d messaged her earlier.
Shit hit the fan with Kris. Falling apart without class at top of Scepter. Coffee tomorrow?
And Zara had found her.
“It’s the middle of the night,” Frankie said, cheeks still hot as she swiped up a chocolate bar. “I shouldn’t have messaged you. This is nothing. I overreacted.”
“Stop making this about you.” Zara knocked Frankie’s arm with her elbow. “I want the goss.”
Frankie eyed her and Zara gazed back, teasing yet expectant. Weird. Although being caught with a puffy face was top-tier mortification to Frankie, Zara didn’t seem to be judging.
“Fine,” she said, and took a steadying breath. “Kris has this little habit of slipping security sometimes when he’s out in the city.”
Zara snorted, then sobered swiftly at Frankie’s look and said, “Bad prince.”
“Reckless,” Frankie said. “He’s been doing it more often. Tonight, I stopped him.” Her throat thickened and she bit into caramel chocolate. A waste, really, because she couldn’t taste a thing. “He was so happy to see me. Like a kid bursting open a piñata.”
“Oh, honey.” Zara swiped up a bar near Frankie’s foot.
“I told him the truth.” Well, parts of it. “He tried to be angry, but he was devastated.” His desolate glances and fraught movements had gutted her. “I’d hoped he wouldn’t care too much, not after I’d kept my distance since he’d arrived in Kiraly. But he did.” Her voice shook as she remembered his pained confusion, his pleas for her to tell him he was wrong. “Then I pretended our friendship had been part of the job, because I can’t be in his life anymore. Not the way I used to be. This needs to be the end of it.”
“Hang on a second,” Zara said.
Frankie’s stomach balled.
Swiveling, her friend regarded her through narrowed eyes. “This doesn’t sound like the end of a friendship.”
“It sure as shit isn’t the happy middle.”
“No.” She pointed her half-eaten chocolate at Frankie. “This sounds like a breakup.”
Looking away, Frankie said, “Don’t devalue friendship by assuming it can’t hurt like this to lose it.”
Zara hummed, sounding unconvinced, but didn’t push.
They sat in silence, punctuated only by the rustle of wrappers and Frankie’s occasional rapid, jagged intake of breath. A dog barked in the distance. The headlights of a car broke through the buildings below and disappeared again. Moonlight made liquid silver on the surface of the lake far below.
Then Zara spoke softly. “Kris is pretty gorgeous.”
Caught off guard, Frankie glared at her.
“Oh, put it away.” Toeing off her flip-flops, Zara pressed the soles of her feet onto the stone step. “If you were just friends, you’d apologize to him, explain why you did what you did, and eventually he’d come back around.”
Heart tight, Frankie turned back to stare at the city below.
“So when you said this needs to be the end of it,” Zara said, “I assume by it, you mean he thinks you’re pretty gorgeous, too.”
“He’s wanted to get in my pants since we met,” she muttered, unwilling to romanticize the sweet thrum of desire between them.
“Making you the one who got away.”
“He needs to move on.” Frankie didn’t manage to hide the dismay from her voice.
“Because he’s royalty and you’re not?”
“Yes.”
Zara sighed, shaking her head before lowering her forehead into her palm.
“You going to try to convince me that status doesn’t matter?”
“I wish I could.” Zara’s voice was strangely sad. “But royalty