Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,13

staring at our smiling faces. My thumbs brush the glass of the picture frame, pressing hard enough to feel the cool smoothness of the material beneath my fingertips.

I guess I’m not getting away from these memories, even at the Summer Palace.

My thumbs press harder, the pads of my fingers leaving imprints on the glass. Anger swells inside me as I stare at Abby’s smiling face, her soft, blond curls falling down to her waist. I stare at the hand resting on my chest. At the glittering ring that always caught the light just so. My eyes drift down to her flat stomach, which still hid the secret that her death would reveal.

I failed her. When the time came for me to act, I froze, and she was gone.

Dropping my shoulders, I toss the picture, frame and all, into a drawer and slam it closed. I stalk out of the room without looking back.

My feet take me across the palace to the south wing. I pass oil paintings of my ancestors and intricate sculptures that Mother and Father commissioned when they were newlyweds. Before they had the four of us kids. Before they, too, died—at least I was too young to really remember much. The sting of that particular grief doesn’t send me to the edge of the arctic for months at a time.

I walk by huge windows that, in the summertime, reveal vast meadows of wildflowers and swaying grasses. Now, all I see is white snow and a dark, starless sky.

Pausing at one of the windows in a formal sitting room, I run my fingers through my thick, black hair. The snow is beautiful, in its own way. It muffles the world, as if giving you permission to be sleepy and warm and safe inside. Its harshness appeals to the primal parts of me. The bite of the cold reminds me of my own heart. The whip of the wind across the barren landscape reminds me what it feels like to be alone. The isolation is comforting.

There are no reporters here, following me everywhere to catch a glimpse of my misery.

Turning away from the window, I continue walking through the castle. I thought I’d hate it here this winter. I didn’t like the idea of being hemmed in here for weeks, but it was better than the assault of Abby’s memorials.

This palace is meant to be enjoyed in summertime, when the arctic is lit by the sun nearly twenty-four hours a day. When the meadows are teeming with life, and caribou bound across the landscape.

Now, it’s dead and cold and sleepy, and I like it. It feels like home.

Throwing on a thick jacket, boots, and all the warm accessories I need to brave the cold, I make my way through the big brown doors to the kennels. It’s cooler in here, but still sheltered from the worst of the elements. The warm smell of dogs greets me, followed by a few soft whinnies and cold snouts pressed against kennel gates.

Harvey, the kennel master, looks up from his crouch at the far end of the kennels. His eyebrows jump. “Your Highness.” He straightens up, giving me a low bow.

“Harvey.” I nod. “How are they?” I move to a kennel in the corner, opening the gate for the big husky with eyes like crushed ice.

“Daisy had her litter. They’re all healthy. AJ’s asthma is still bothering him, but the vet said he’d be okay if we take it easy on him this winter.” Harvey glances at the huge husky exiting the kennel beside me. “Ah. And Chief missed you.”

The beast lets out a low huff, nuzzling my leg. I reach over to scratch the back of his head, sighing. The tension between my shoulder blades finally eases, and I kneel down to rub my cheek against Chief’s fur.

“Hey, buddy,” I whisper, turning my head as he licks my face with his rough, pink tongue. I chuckle, scrubbing his neck. “I missed you too.”

When I stand up, Chief stays by my side. The warmth of his body radiates through my pant leg and sends a calming pulse through me. I forget about the picture in the office and the cold loneliness clinging to my spirit. I forget about why I’m here, and how life would have been different if I hadn’t failed Abby when she needed me most.

I’m just here with my dog, and I finally feel like I’m home.

Harvey gives me a pinched smile. “He’s been antsy since you left last time.