and a good sister to you. She simply overshot the goal.”
He mostly agreed. Except for the part where he didn’t get to help. Seeing Mallory upset was not okay by him. So if he couldn’t fix the fight, or the hurt, at least he could distract her from it.
“You know what we haven’t done in a while? Made a bet with each other.”
“If the bet is which one of us will win at archery, well, I don’t take sucker bets. You’d take me down.”
“I was thinking bocce. Do you play?”
“I’ve never even heard of it.”
Americans. “It’s the national sport—how did you not learn that in your cramming to brief Kelsey on all things Moncriano?”
“Mmm. Sports seemed like a tab in the binder I could skip over.”
“It’s as easy as horseshoes. Or croquet. You just throw a little wooden ball and try to hit the stick. Fun for all ages. C’mon. I bet you can’t get to fifty by the time I get to eighty. I’m giving you the advantage since it’s your first time.”
“But you have to go do the rope line.”
“Later.” Because in the rope line, she’d probably be stuck next to Kelsey. He needed to get her clear for a little bit. “This’ll take ten minutes. It’ll be fun. Do you take the bet?”
Eyes already gleaming with competition, Mallory asked, “Winner gets what?”
Christian cupped his hand around her ear to whisper, “Choice of locale for our next…ah…encounter. Options include the state carriage, the indoor pool in the dungeon, and the back of my motorcycle.”
“Let’s go.”
He caught Theo’s eye and pointed down at the bocce green. Held up outspread fingers to indicate ten minutes. And mentally patted himself on the back as they got set up with balls. An old-timer explained the game to Mallory with lots of hand gestures and elbowing.
This would be great. Even more than that epic kiss they’d shared.
People would see Mallory playing their beloved game, with him, and it’d prove they were together. Statement made. The crowd would fall in love with her. The press would be nothing but compliments.
He took the first underhand throw after tossing the bright-yellow pallino. This’d be fast and dirty. Got his ball close enough to the pallino to make the spectators clap and exchange money. Guess they wanted in on the bet, too.
Mallory eyeballed the shot. Loosened up her arm in the tight vest-and-shirt combo with a couple practice swings. Right as she let go, a goose honked—loudly. Her whole body jerked, and her throw went wide.
Very wide.
Completely sideways. And just to the side of the bocce court was the pen with white peacocks so children could take pictures with Moncriano’s iconic symbol.
Her deep-green ball hit a peacock in the head. It immediately flopped onto the ground.
Children screamed. Some adults gasped. The rest stood in horrified silence. A hush fell over the entire crowd as word of what happened obviously spread like wildfire.
A quiet festival filled with thousands of people was never, ever a good thing.
Mallory turned to him, hands covering her mouth. “What have I done? Christian, what should we do? Can you help it?”
“I’m no vet.” He watched the animal wranglers circle around the animal, shooing the children away. Saw the head wrangler deliberately look over at him, then slice with his hand across his throat.
Holy Christ.
She’d killed a white peacock.
By accident, to be sure. But there was no doubt it’d be taken as an omen to some and an insult to the Crown to others.
He’d wanted to be sure the whole kingdom fully understood that he and Mallory were an item. To be sure there was no misunderstanding about her place at the palace, in his life.
Well, word would certainly spread about this…
Gathering Mallory in his arms, Christian held her tight, eyes fixed on the awkward attempt at removing the poor animal’s body without letting the children see it. The tailfeathers dragged in the dirt.
Already he saw a sea of phones up in the air, taking pictures. Half were aimed at the dead bird. The other half were aimed at them. This would go viral, no doubt.
Shit.
“We can’t do anything. We move forward.”
“Stay at the festival?” she asked, doubt clouding those deep-green eyes.
It wouldn’t be easy. But it was necessary.
His father’s recent actions had seen to that. “The House of Villani does not turn a blind eye to its troubles, or its mistakes. We especially do not hide in the palace until things blow over. Sorry, sweetheart, but we have to go do the rope