Page 74 of Royally Arranged

Maverick turned away, lowering into a huddle to speak with his wife and Glen. With one more glance at us, they retreated down the hallway. “Good riddance,” Larch mumbled.

Our father hooked an arm around Larchmont’s shoulders, leading him down the opposite hall. “Come with me.”

“Wait,” I said, following them, shutting Darla and Richard in my mother’s room as I went. “Isn’t this something we should be discussing? Even Thorne’s parents don’t know what’s happened to him.”

“Nova.” My mom patted my shoulder. The other two hadn’t slowed down, ignoring me as they walked off to talk on their own. “Go to my room. Eat. Rest. Your job is to take care of growing this baby.”

Cradling my flat tummy, I gritted my teeth. “This baby? It’s Thorne’s baby. And he should know about it. He shouldbehere!”

“But he isn’t.” Her words were clipped. The discussion was over. I watched her as she swayed after my father and brother. If I was familiar with any part of my mother, it was the back of her smooth head. I’d seen it numerous times.

I feel like I’m losing my mind.How could Hawthorne go missing? This wasn’t something small. He was the king! He was my husband. He was ... he was going to be a father. I had to find him.

Unsure what to do next, I wandered back to my mother’s room. I had it partially open when I heard my siblings squabbling inside.

“Just let me—come on!” Darla grunted, yanking something out of Richard’s hands. She leaned whatever it was—a phone?—over the bed. She was taking a photo of something there. With a proud grin, she winked at Richard and typed something. “Aaaand ... send. There. Now the madness can happen.”

“What madness?” I asked, entering fully into the room. Darla and Richard both stared at me. His expression was flat, but hers was wild. I knew that face; it was the one she made whenever she got caught doing something bad. “Darla ... what are you ...?” She was paralyzed. I glanced at the phone in her hand. I recognized it, but that was impossible. “Why do you have Thorne’s phone?” I asked with mounting distrust.

My nerves went haywire. In slow motion my sister hid the phone behind her back, her attention darting to the bed. I was moving faster than she was. On another level, fueled by a rising paranoia. Before she could stop me, I’d snatched the photo off the blanket.

It was a shiny picture. In it, plain as day, was Thorne with his pants low around his hips from behind, his tattoos peeking between the material and his shirt. He was standing in the cemetery, and I knew what—and who—he was doing.

“Nova, wait,” Darla said, lifting her hands in front of her. I glanced at the phone again—so did she. “This isn’t ... I was only trying to save your dignity!”

“My dignity?” I repeated, so lost I was feeling ill. Or maybe that was from the pregnancy. “What the hell is going on in here? Someone explain.Now.”

Sputtering, my sister twirled a hand by her head, searching for words that she could scoop up and use. Her own were failing her. “Don’t get so pissy at me! I’m the only one who wanted you to know the truth about Thorne.” Snatching the photo from me, she stuck it in my face. “It’s hard to look at, I’m sure, but this is the real him! The kind of guy who’d bang a streetwalker in the royal cemetery isn’t good enough to be a dadoryour husband.”

Lifting my eyes from the photo, I glared at Darla, then Richard. He shrank under my furious stare. “Thisstreetwalkerisme.”

“Oh shit,” she whispered. “Well ... it’s fine. No one I sent it to can recognize you if we didn’t.”

“Whodid you send this photo to?”

“Just a few contacts I’ve made at the local papers.” She shrugged casually. “This city is obsessed with scandal. It’d be sad if it wasn’t so fun.”

A horrific block clogged my esophagus, then moved to my throat before coming out as a shuddering gasp. “How could you hurt me like this?”

“Hurt you? I was trying to help you.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t know it was you in the photo with him. Larchmont thought it was a prostitute—which Thornedidmeet with, by the way—and she apparently lied to get some money out of this. My point is, only Thorne gets in trouble for breaking the law.”

Grabbing Thorne’s phone, I shook it at her. “Him being in trouble hurtsme!”

She blinked owlishly. “Huh? I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t,” I snapped. “You’ve got no idea what it means to feel the way I do about someone. I don’t know if you’re even capable of it. You’re selfish and empty inside.”

Lost for a response, Darla gaped at me. Then she eyeballed Richard, but he offered no help. In front of my eyes I watched her mind working. Darla could never take, had never taken responsibility for her actions. But she was good at deflecting. “If you want to be angry, aim it at Larch and Rich. They did way worse to Thorne than I did.”

As I watched him, Richard’s face crumpled. He avoided my eyes, staring out the window. “Richard,” I said, drawing out his name. He still didn’t look at me. “What did you do to Thorne? Where is he?”

“Nova,” he whispered, like my name caused him pain. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought he’d ... Larch made it so easy to believe that guy was scum.”

“Where is he?”

“The private holding quarters. It’s a small room downstairs, only the royal guards use it.”

My sister reached out for me. “Wait—Oh, my phone.” She slid out the black-and-pink mobile, checking it instead of grabbing me. “Fuck! Wow! That picture I sent is blowing up all over. It’s been shared two thousand times online already!”

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