his own glass aside, and before Ella could do the same, it slipped from her grasp. Her hand seemed to go limp, along with the rest of her body, like a puppet whose strings were cut. As she slumped forward, Bishop caught her and lifted her more securely into his arms. "I've got you," he said, holding her against his chest as he walked down the balcony steps that led to the garden below.
Confusion filled Ella and she looked up at him. His face was calm, but she felt like she was going to pass out. She tried to speak, to tell him, but she couldn't find a way to get the words out. Her vision went blank for one second, and when she next opened her eyes, they were well past the garden.
Betrayal mingled with confusion and fear as Ella slipped into unconsciousness.
Chapter 8
Sterling
Sterling had attended his fair share of colony events, and even one coronation. Nonetheless, he found himself quite unprepared for the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Ella’s coronation.
Everything was different when it came to her, though.
Watching her up there, taking her rightful place at the throne, he had felt a curious mixture of pride and sadness. She had become more than anything he had thought possible when she had first come to him.
No, that wasn't true. She'd always been more. More than what she thought, more than what the Hills could see. Even more than what he imagined. All he'd done was help her to see that.
Now his job was done.
He’d been watching her all evening, from a distance. It was more important now than ever to act with discretion. If all that was on the line was his position at the Academy, he would've given it up a long time ago just to be with her. This was about more than just him, though. More than what he wanted as a man. The colony needed a leader, and Ella needed to be able to step fully into her destiny as the moon’s chosen. Being with him, even in the secret moments they stole, was a liability for her.
He had told himself the same thing a thousand times, but it never got any easier to accept. He just hoped when the time came, he would have the strength.
Not tonight, though. Tonight was about her, and he wanted to let her enjoy it for as long as possible.
When he saw her disappear out onto the balcony, followed by Bishop, his instincts immediately surged. He trusted the other tom less now than he ever had, and that was saying something.
Sterling set aside his glass and walked away from the person he had been talking with without so much as a pardon, but before he could cut through the crowd, someone grabbed him from behind.
"Sterling," Emily said warmly. He always found the woman noxious, yet somehow, she didn't seem to get the memo. "So good to see you. I wanted to thank you for all you've done for Ella."
Sterling stared at her for a moment in confusion. "Why?" he asked before he could stop himself. His filter had been displaced for the evening.
Emily blinked. "Well, she's like a daughter to me, for course."
Sterling gave her a stiff smile. "Of course."
"I suppose she’ll be needing your guidance now more than ever," Emily mused. "I can only teach her to conduct herself as a proper queen, but there are some of the old traditions even I'm not well-versed in."
Sterling looked over her shoulder at the balcony. As far as he could tell, they still hadn't come back in. "Yes, well, I'm sure she's very fortunate to have you."
His sarcasm seemed to go entirely over her head. Then again, her son was a right terror, so it seemed a lot escaped her notice. "Oh, well," she said, resting a hand on her décolleté. "You are quite a charmer."
"Is there something I can do for you, Emily?" he asked, summoning his patience. He knew he was probably just being paranoid. Ella was officially mated to Bishop now. She would be spending plenty of time alone with him, so what was tonight?
The idea drove him mad, no matter how nonchalant he tried to remain about it.
"Actually, I was wondering," she said in an entreating tone. He realized she was finally getting to whatever it was that had made her go from being generally unaware of his existence to clinging. "I was wondering, just politically speaking… Depending on who the baby's father is, how would that