Closing the front door behind me, I hurry down to the car and toss my duffle in the back seat.
I keep my lights on dim, plagued by the irrational fear that if I turn on the brights, it will summon Jeffrey from the darkness like a movie monster. As I drive toward town, though, I realize I really do feel better than I have in days. My head is clear, and I can finally pull in a deep breath without coughing.
That’s something, at least—Jeffrey waited to betray me until I had the strength to run away from him. It gives me something positive to cling to as I head for home.
I’m sure Andrew or Sabrina or someone from the Gallantian royal family will be calling my parents to spill the beans about the twin swap very soon. I should try to get there first and do damage control.
The thought makes my stomach ache.
My mother is going to be furious. Even if Sabrina and Andrew end up getting married, she’ll be furious. She doesn’t like changes to plans, especially when she isn’t consulted about them first. But if this fiasco ends without one of her daughters married to the future king of Gallantia…
I shudder.
I can’t even imagine what she’ll do, but it will be dramatic and stressful for everyone involved, especially me, deservedly, since I set the plan in motion.
Even before I reach the village, I’ve started to think maybe heading for home isn’t the best idea. Perhaps it would be better to call a brief truce with Jeffrey and give myself a safe place to sleep while I whip up a strategy to defuse the situation. It’s already dark, and I’m not likely to find lodging between here and the castle at this hour. Rindish people are hospitable, yes, but they also tend to go to bed early during the week. We’re an industrious, hardworking nation with a large percentage of citizens who either enjoy early morning recreation or who own farm animals that need tending at first light, or both.
I think of Sabrina and Andrew, of how eager they both are to pop out of bed and go jogging at the crack of dawn, and I hope that they’ve seen how ideally suited they are for each other. And I pray my mother will see it, too, and refrain from any rash, destructive action.
Slowing as I drive through the village, I’m on the high street when a tense situation catches my eye ahead.
It’s the General himself, standing outside the pizza parlor, toe-to-toe with a man even bigger and broader than he is. The other man’s body language is coiled, tight with barely contained violence, and my first instinct is to pull over and try to defuse the situation before Jeffrey gets a black eye or worse.
A little voice also whispers that saving Jeffrey from certain doom might convince him to fetch his things and get lost, leaving me alone in the cabin without the constant temptation of his delicious body while I ponder my next move. But I’m primarily motivated by a desire to spread peace and love.
The man was already kneed in the balls tonight. I can at least try to help save his face.
I swing into the small parking lot beside the restaurant and slam out of the car without stopping to consider that I’m still in my pajamas—gray cotton pants with pink sheep on them and a filmy pink shirt with tea stains at the hem. Also, I haven’t brushed my hair or teeth in roughly twenty-four hours. I ignore my makeup-free face and the fact that I’m so pale from years spent working indoors that I look like I’m descended from an albino cave newt.
Or a vampire.
Or a ghost.
I know which one the man facing Jeffrey down in front of the pizza parlor would choose.
The moment the man’s gaze shifts my way, pulling me into focus over Jeffrey’s shoulder, his eyes go wide and his jaw drops.
He does look like he’s seen a ghost, and not the friendly kind.
But then, Rafe made it clear the day I said no to his proposal that he never wanted to see me again, not in life or death or anything in between.
9
Jeffrey
One moment, I’m about to come to blows with a stranger over a stupid misunderstanding. The next, he’s stumbling away from me, the color rushing from his face.
He looks like he’s having a heart attack.
Or like he’s spotted someone even bigger and meaner than he is over my shoulder. I spin, braced to defend myself, and see a thin blonde, still in her sheep pajamas, plodding up the stone path behind me with an anxious but determined expression.
Elizabeth.
Thank God, she’s come to her senses.
Now I can explain everything to this man—again. He can see for himself how I could have mistaken his wife for the woman walking up to us, and then Elizabeth and I can return to the cabin and work this out like civilized human beings.