Page 54 of Falling Princess

I hung our coats in the hall closet, trying to think of something to say. What I came up with was, “Would you like tea?”

Almost shyly, Lorcan accepted. “Please.” And then, after a beat. “I need to take care of something. It’s gross.”

“You need to clean the weapons you used.” I hazarded a guess. A faint worry line around his eyes eased. I put the electric kettle on before leading him to the addition at the back of the house, where there’s a small anteroom with a utility tub. I suspect he already knows and is holding back out of respect for my friendship with Cata. “The gardening sink is back here.”

Lorcan looked at it, then at me. “You might not want to see this.”

Before I could respond, Cata blew in the front door, all fuss and curses. At the same time, the kettle pinged. In the chaos, I found myself touching Lorcan’s arm as I brushed past him. Heat streaked through me at the contact.

Get a grip. And not on your knight.

“Where are you? Zosia?”

“Here. In the kitchen.”

Cata grabbed me by the shoulders. She’s still wearing her coat, with her bright silver hair a sharp contrast to the black wool. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay. Your knee is bleeding, you’re limping and you look exhausted. Did they hurt you? I’m going to murder them, all of them, every last fucking Skía; I swear I’m going to hunt them down and dismember them—”

“They’re dead,” Lorcan interjected.

She stopped her tirade long enough to glare at him. “Took you long enough to intervene.”

Lorcan let this terribly unfair assessment roll right off him. “She went over the wall. Took me a minute to catch up.”

Cata, turning back to me, smoothed my hair down the side of my head and then crushed me to her in a fierce embrace.

“I hope you were smart enough to take care of the evidence?” she asked.

“All but the knives. They had tattoos and insignia I had to get rid of. The police will think it was just another knife fight.”

“A Celtics and Rangers squabble that got out of hand,” Cata chuckled, relaxing. She let me go and leaned over to ruffle his hair. “It was a big risk to take, but you covered it up nicely. Good work. Let’s break down the knives you used.”

As it turns out, cleaning is only the first step in weapons destruction. I steeped a pot of tea while they donned gloves to bleach and scrub a series of strange putty-colored objects, stained red. Then they wrapped the oddly-shaped blades in a towel and smashed them with a hammer. Lorcan, particularly, appeared to enjoy the process of breaking them.

“What are they made of?” I ask, as though I’m not witnessing the destruction of evidence in a triple homicide.

“These are ceramic. Cheap, easily destroyed, and specially crafted without metal so as to be undetectable,” Cata informed me. “I’ll scatter the pieces in the harbor later. They’ll be sand within a few days.”

I sipped my cooling tea. “You’ve done this before.”

“Many times.” She leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “Now that you have some idea of what goes into keeping your precious hide intact, have you reconsidered quitting university?”

With a heavy sigh, I nodded. Here it comes. The inevitable scolding. “I have been an ungrateful brat. I owe you and Lorcan an immense apology.”

“Not me, my flower. I’m only an accessory after the fact. Worst case scenario, I claim diplomatic immunity and get my ass back to Auralia before I’m arrested. Lorcan takes more of a risk.”

“How so?”

“He’s not a diplomat. Can’t claim immunity if he’s caught. Therefore, he can’t be caught.”

I fell silent as I comprehend the potential damage, both for him, personally, and for my country’s reputation.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Cata added. “We planned for this type of scenario. No one’s going to bat an eyelash at a knife fight, not in Scotland. That’s part of why your father chose Royals University for you. Countries where guns are commonplace were too risky. Come on, Princess. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I never stood a chance of attending Stanford, or Columbia. They indulged my fantasies for a few months knowing all the while that I was never getting out of my safe little cage. I don’t like the way they lie to me. Today changed nothing in that sense.

Cata drew me a hot bath, which I marinated in for the better part of an hour, mulling the day’s events. It’s a treat to relax like this; the dormitory only has showers. I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that so many people have gone to so much trouble to ensure I have some semblance of an ordinary life.

As grateful as I am, I can’t help but feel depressed at how managed my life is. Every choice I make has been shaped by other people before I have a chance to consider what I might want, if I knew the risks and was given the option to assess them for myself.

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