Page 190 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

“Is there anything I can do?”

He realized that his default was that he was quite comfortable being served. Such was the life of a prince. But this was a survival situation, and this small woman must be horrendously exhausted after what had just happened.

“Probably not,” she said. “Appreciated though. If you move too much that wound could start bleeding again. I’m just grateful that it’s a pretty clean gash. I think some metal from the plane got you. But… It just could’ve been worse.”

“I’m sure.”

As it was, he knew that he was facing physical therapy. Among other indignities. There was no way something like this was simply going to heal.

He had never been betrayed by his own body before. Though, he supposed it wasn’t his body’s fault that flesh was soft enough to be cut by razor-sharp metal.

He watched as the girl scrambled around.

And then came back with their food.

“Let’s get something to eat, Clem,” she said.

“Pardon me?”

“You haven’t told me your name. I decided to give you one.”

“Clem?”

She sniffed. “Short for Clemuel.”

“That is ridiculous,” he said.

“The entire situation is ridiculous, if you haven’t noticed.”

He snorted. “Believe me. I have.”

“Good. That means at least some of your faculties are working.”

“You seem more cheerful.”

“The prospect of food, and the fact that we have a way to keep warm can have that effect.”

“Yes.” Something gnawed at the back of his mind. And just like that, it appeared fully formed. “It is likely that I can be traced.”

“What?”

“My phone is able to be tracked.”

“Does anybody know that you’re with me? I mean, I have that find my thing on my phone too, but I don’t think it’s going to work out here.”

She didn’t understand. There was, of course, a sophisticated tracking system on his phone. But not just his phone, there was also something in his watch. In the soles of his shoes. He was a prince who preferred to live his life as independently as possible. The heir to the throne of his country. Nobody took chances on his whereabouts. If he didn’t appear when he was meant to, it would be noted.

Whether or not it would work in the wilderness, he did not know.

“Nobody has to know that I’m with you,” he said. “They just have to know where I’m not.”

“All right,” she said. “You were going to go to a wedding.”

“I was.”

He was trying to think if he had ever talked to a person like this. One who had no idea who he was. Of course, he had never talked to a person while his leg was flayed open either. So there was that.

It was for that reason he didn’t really want her to know who he was. It was weird. Because if he were to die out here, he would have never given his name to the last person who ever saw him alive. But also, it might be…

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