Page 40 of The Unlikely Spare
I take the mask from him and examine it with exaggerated scrutiny. “Checked for assassin jellyfish, have you, O’Connell? Is aquatic predator management in the Royal Protection Handbook?”
“It’s chapter twelve. Right afterDealing with Difficult Royalsand beforeThirty-Seven Ways Princes Test Their Security Detail’s Patience,” he deadpans.
I can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes me. Damn it. I turn my attention to adjusting the mask on my face.
“The strap’s twisted.” O’Connell reaches toward my face without warning. His fingers brush against my hair as he adjusts the silicone band, his fingertips surprisingly gentle.
He’s standing close enough that I can see the tiny flecks of silver in his gray eyes. Something warm and unexpected unfurls in my stomach.
Christ. That’s precisely what I don’t need.
Especially when I’m in a neoprene wetsuit with a full press contingent watching from the deck above.
I swallow hard and force a smirk as I take a deliberate step backward.
“If you wanted to touch my hair, O’Connell, you might have simply asked.”
His hands drop to his sides, his expression unreadable. “Just doing my job.”
The reef guide claps his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Royal party in the water first, then the rest of you lot. Remember, no touching the coral, keep a safe distance from all marine life, and follow your guides’ instructions at all times.”
I shuffle to the edge of the platform and launch myself off into the warm water.
My face dips below the surface, and the world transforms.
Beneath me, the coral reef forms a living carpet, tiny fish hovering above it like scattered jewels.
It’s like entering another realm entirely. Here, I’m just another creature floating above an underwater city that has existed for millennia before my ancestors thought to stick crowns on their heads and declare themselves divinely appointed.
When I kick downward, purple and yellow fish scatter like confetti. I’m so entranced by a vibrant blue starfish that I almost forget O’Connell until his hand touches my arm, a pressure that sayslookwithout words.
It’s a sea turtle. Ancient face impassive, flippers cutting through water. We drift closer, but the turtle continues its patrol as if we’re no more significant than a piece of seaweed.
When it vanishes into the blue, my eyes wander farther to the right, and my chest tightens when my gaze lands on something that lies below.
Diamond-shaped. Massive. Sand clouds puffing up where its wings disturb the seafloor.
Stingray.
My breath catches, sending a burst of bubbles past my mask.
The stingray moves with a grace that makes me feel like a clumsy pantomime.
Before I know what I’m doing, I take a deep breath and dive down. My eardrums complain about the pressure, but I don’t care because I’m getting closer to the magnificent creature.
My pulse hammers a rhythm that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with finally, finally feeling the edges of something real.
I know stingrays are dangerous, but somehow, that knowledge only makes this encounter more magical. The ray’s tail arcs gracefully, the venomous spine clearly visible.
This creature doesn’t care about my bloodline or succession rights. I’m just another shadow disrupting its morning.
The stingray banks left, stirring up sand clouds that glitter in the filtered sunlight, and my lungs burn from holding my breath along with something that might be joy.
O’Connell’s shadow crosses over me. Looking up, I see the reef guide at the surface, frantically slapping the water—the universal signal to return immediately.
The stingray changes direction as if it senses my presence.
Ten feet away now.
