“Where is this overblown concern coming from, all of the sudden?”
“It’s not sudden. If anything, it’s long overdue. I’ve wanted to say something for weeks. Months, even. We all have. But we thought giving you space and time would be enough to…”
My brows go up when she trails off. “To what? To fix me? To make me forget what happened that day in the square? To make me stop replaying the memories of thirty-nine caskets being lowered into the ground, one after another after another, for so many days in a row I could walk the cemeteries of Vasgaard backwards and blindfolded, I know them so well?”
“No. Of course not. I’m not trying to minimize what you’ve been through, Your Majesty.”
“Then give me a little space to work through it, Galizia.”
“It’s been three months. I worry, if we give you any more space, you’ll never come back to earth.”
“You’re blowing things out of proportion.”
“Am I?” Her light blue eyes narrow a shade. “You have a degree in psychology, so I don’t think I need to tell you what’s happening here. All the signs are evident even to my untrained eyes.”
“Are you implying that I’m depressed?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m telling you, flat out, that people are worried about you.”
“Who? You?”
“Yes,me,” she says without missing a beat. “Along with just about every other person who works in this castle. And, if you don’t start taking better care of yourself, the rest of the world will soon be as well. You know how many eyes are on you every time you step outside these walls.”
“Then I’ll stay in. Staycations are all the rage, these days — haven’t you heard?”
“How long do you think that’s going to work, exactly? The press gave you a free pass in the aftermath of the attack… and after you lost your father. But you know the public has a short memory. They’re not going to let you grieve forever.”
I clench my jaw tight, not wanting to process what she’s saying. Not wanting to acknowledge that, deep down, I know she’s right. The press are always eager for any news concerning the royal family, but these days they’ve become especially rabid.
If Simms were here, he’d handle them.
But he’s not.
Sucking in a breath, I try to infuse some conviction into my voice. “Look, Galizia, I truly appreciate this show of concern… but I’mfine. I’m not a shut-in. I haven’t been riding Ginger because the snow is so deep. Once it melts, I’ll get back to my daily outings. You’ll see.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m feeling better. Honestly.” I can barely get the words past my lips, let alone manage a limp smile. “So you can call off whatever intervention you and Riggs are plotting.”
“What?” Her cheeks go adorably red at the mention of the Commander. “Riggs and I aren’t plotting anything.”
“Right. Except your happily ever after…”
“That’s absurd. Your Majesty, he—” Her head shakes. “He is my superior.”
“Mhm. And has your superior asked you on another date recently?”
“Dating him would be wholly inappropriate, given our respective roles in the Queen’s Guard. A Commander should never date one of his Lieutenants. It violates all manner of protocols.”
“That wasn’t strictly ano, Galizia.”
She’s even redder now, if possible. “Even if he asked, I’d never go.”
“So he did ask! Didn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer — which, in itself, is an answer.
“Are you going to go?” I pester.