without incident! Media coverage without reference to a cowboy! Kris contemplated short-sheeting the man’s bed just to wipe that smug smile off his face—and for being a player in Frankie’s concealment—but figured he owed him a few days’ respite.
This was hardly going to be the new normal.
Philip worked with him each day in the tower study, and with Mark’s help, Kris started to wrap his brain around the nation’s policies and agreements. His head swam with measures for strong national health, education, inclusion, and safe living; it grappled with strategies for environmental protection and sustainability, budgets, and taxes. Unexpectedly, it all began to make sense. The fact that his hedonistic, indolent uncle Vinci had approved such strong policies almost made Kris reassess his opinion of the man.
All was forgiven between Kris and Mark by the second day. Mark turned up for their usual Tuesday beer and poker night—which Kris insisted they play in his sitting room instead of the cabin beyond the palace grounds—and Kris felt something unstable inside him realign.
But he couldn’t forgive Frankie so easily.
A brutal kind of restlessness claimed him by the third night. He hated not knowing what to do, and hated that Frankie had put him in this position. The ferocity of his frustration built, making him want to knock down a wall or dig a well with his bare hands. Instead, he tracked Tommy down in one of the private libraries and stalked the rows until his brother finally agreed to play cards between his stacks of books.
“You can’t avoid her forever,” Tommy said, sighing as he lost another hand. “I can’t put up with you like this for that long.”
“Like what?” Kris shuffled the cards as if he wanted to snap their spines.
“Like a man who’s waited years for something, only to find out he can never have it.” Tommy’s fingers tapped against the desk. “You’re dazed and incensed.”
Kris raised his hands, pulling a face. “I’m just sitting here, man.”
“But I’ll bet the thought of tearing every book off its shelf holds appeal. Throwing them out the window. Hauling the curtains down after them.”
Kris narrowed his eyes at the nearby bookshelf. That did sound pretty good.
“After that, it’d probably feel cathartic to start a fight—venting through a shouting match, and it’d probably be with me because you know I don’t take any of your shit.” Tommy cocked a brow, as if to ask, am I right? “You’d keep at it until it forced Frankie to show up and intervene for our own safety.”
Frankie. Her hands on him, hauling him away from Tommy. Her face close to his as she barked at him to get it together. Furious with him. Responding to him. Looking at him.
“I don’t want to see her,” he said, almost choking on the lie.
“Holding yourself captive isn’t going to help.”
“I’m just sitting here,” he said again, voice turning harsh.
“Feeling caged.”
“Hanging out with you.”
“Because you have nowhere else to go.”
Aggression slapped his palms on the desk, pushing him into Tommy’s space. “Are you trying to make me start that fight?”
“No.” Tommy leaned back in his chair, gaze level. “But I’m angry with her, too, and I don’t like that she’s won. She’s confused you by coming clean and then making herself your bodyguard—so you’re avoiding her. You pose no risk of ditching security if you don’t even leave these walls.”
Kris pulled back, crossing his arms.
“Either sort it out,” Tommy said, raising a shoulder. “Or get rid of her. You’ve got too much going on to dwell on it.”
Kris wanted to overturn the table at how matter-of-factly Tommy said get rid of her.
Looked like he had to sort it out.
“I don’t know what to say to her,” he muttered. “Still don’t know how I feel about it.”
“You’re never going to feel only one way. It’s complicated. Now, make plans for the weekend. Out there.” Not meeting his eye, Tommy gestured in the direction of Kira City. “That don’t involve bothering me.”
Translation: Tommy was still pissed at him over the king thing, and despite being supportive, he didn’t want to have to pretend nothing was wrong whenever Kris came knocking.
“But I love bothering you,” Kris said, unsettled by his brother’s continued resentment.
“I don’t love losing at cards.”
“Then why do it so often?” Smirking at his brother’s glare, Kris left him to his family history research.
By the following night, Tommy’s words had grafted onto Kris’s already thriving frustration, growing into a rippling outrage. He prowled his sitting room. She’d lied for years and then