my shoulder,” he guffaws, and I tense.
I don’t like hearing him speak about Cara like that. Heat flows into my chest. Anger flares inside me, flushing my face and making my ears burn. Protective, animalistic instinct wakes up inside me, lifting its ugly head and staring at Beckett.
He notices.
“What?” He frowns, his lips twisting into an ugly grin. “You don’t care about her, do you?”
“She’s been a friend of the family for years.” Somehow, it feels wrong to deny my feelings, even if I’m just talking to my brother.
Beckett arches an eyebrow, smirking. An uncomfortable feeling gurgles in my stomach.
I love my brother. I do. But sometimes, there’s something about Beckett that doesn’t sit well with me. He always seems like he’s holding back. Like he’s not telling the whole truth.
When his eyes meet mine, Beckett arches an eyebrow. It’s almost like a challenge, daring me to say something.
I ignore it.
Just then, the door opens and the doctor steps through. He bows to me and my brother. “I’d like to follow up with you in three days, Your Highness. We can keep an eye on that shoulder and make sure we get you out of the sling as soon as possible. Excuse me.”
With another bow, he walks down the hallway. The door to his examination room opens again, and Cara appears in the doorway.
My stomach bottoms out, and I’m falling through space. How is it possible to get that feeling every time I see her? Like the rug is pulled out from under me anytime she comes into view.
But the ground comes rushing back up toward me when Beckett opens his mouth to speak.
“Cara,” he says, taking a step toward her. His voice is low, and his movements predatory.
It takes all my self-control to stop myself from launching at him. I’d tackle him to the ground and pin him there to stop him touching Cara, injured shoulder or not.
But I hold back.
What’s going on with me?
Beckett doesn’t want to hurt Cara, and I have no right to feel this protective over her. As real as the past three weeks have felt, we’re not together. Not really. Soon, she’ll be gone.
Her eyes flick to me, full of pain and fear.
I gulp. “Is everything okay? What did the doctor say?”
“Everything’s fine. Just need to drink water.” Her voice is tight, and I can tell she’s not telling me everything.
Beckett glances between Cara and me, his brows drawing together. “Why are you here, Cara?”
“I threw up when I got off the plane.”
“The plane?” he repeats.
Cara glances at me, questioning.
I clear my throat. “Cara was with me on the tour of the Kingdom.” Beckett’s head whips toward me, and I clear my throat. “As a guest,” I add.
“A guest.” Beckett’s eyes darken. It seems the only thing he’s capable of doing is repeating everything we say.
“Yes, Beckett, a guest. Do you have a problem with that?” My nerves are frayed. I’m worried about Cara. I’m worried about becoming King. I’m worried about everything that will happen once Cara leaves the palace gates, and if I’ll ever see her again once she does.
I don’t have the energy to deal with my little brother and the mammoth-sized chip on his shoulder.
“I’ll take you home,” I say to Cara, extending my hand toward her. She keeps one arm wrapped around her stomach, side-stepping around Beckett. When her other hand slips into mine, I swear I see Beckett vibrating with anger.
Why would he care?
I shake my head, jerking my chin at my brother. “Check in with Dante. He has some updated security protocols for us to go through. You should go and see Father, as well.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he says, giving me a low, insolent bow.
I ignore him. Instead, I put my arm around Cara’s shoulders and lead her out of the doctor’s pavilion. Once we step out into the sunshine, Cara takes a deep breath. It rattles on the way in, and when she exhales, her shoulders drop.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, frowning. My arm stays slung across her shoulders as I hold her close. The royal vehicle is waiting for us, with a new driver standing next to the open door.
“I’m fine. Just need to go home and get some sleep.”
I nod. A lump forms in my throat, and I’m not quite sure how to respond.
Her home should be here. She should be coming to my bed to rest. Cara’s place is beside me—why doesn’t she see that?
When we reach the car, Cara puts