Chapter 16
1038 Words
Chapter 16
KIERAN
"Fine," I agreed reluctantly. "We'll take the morning flight."
Miranda's smile became more genuine, though I caught a calculating glint in her eyes. "Actually, I have a better idea. Why don't we share a room tonight? Give the media something to talk about tomorrow morning. After your little stunt in Millbrook, we need to cement our relationship in the public eye."
Every instinct I possessed rebelled against the suggestion, that she had made and I knew that she knew that I knew what she was doing. Besides the mere thought of spending the night with Miranda, of letting the world believe we were lovers when my heart belonged entirely to another woman, felt like a betrayal of everything I held sacred. I had been holding onto the past all this while and now that Seraphina was finally out of Marcus's grasp, she wanted me to push her away, give Seraphina the message that I was spoken for, which was in her right as my fiancee.
But she was right about the politics of it, despite the personal marriage that she wanted to send to Seraphina.
The supernatural world operated on how they perceived rumors as much as reality, and right now, my actions in Millbrook had created the perception that I was still hung up on my runaway bride.
"One room," I agreed, though the words felt like they were being dragged from my throat. "But we're not—"
"I know," she said quickly, holding up a hand, stopping me with an eye roll, like she had expected my response already. "I'm not asking for anything physical, Kieran. Just the appearance of intimacy. Let the staff see us together, give the gossips something to chew on besides your rescue mission."
I nodded, downing the rest of my whiskey in one burning gulp. "I'll arrange it with the concierge."
The next morning dawned gray and cold, matching my mood perfectly. I'd barely slept, too aware of Miranda's presence in the bed beside me, too haunted by dreams of silver-blue eyes and honey-colored hair. She'd been the perfect picture of a devoted fiancée, curling against my side for the benefit of the hotel staff who'd brought us breakfast, playing the part with an happy fiancee that reminded me why she'd been chosen for this role in the first place.
Now we stood in the hotel lobby, surrounded by a pack of reporters and photographers who'd somehow gotten wind of our presence. Miranda handled them gracefully, her hand possessively on my arm as she fielded questions about our upcoming wedding.
"The king and I are very excited about the formal announcement," she said, beaming up at me with practiced adoration.
"It's been wonderful getting to know each other better over these past months."
"Your Majesty," one reporter called out, "is it true that you recently intervened in a domestic dispute involving your former fiancée?"
I felt Miranda's grip tighten on my arm, a subtle warning to be careful with my words. "I assisted a friend who was in danger," I said diplomatically. "Nothing more."
"But Seraphina Blackwood was your intended mate five years ago," another reporter pressed. "Are you saying there are no lingering feelings?"
"His Majesty's feelings are quite clear," Miranda interjected smoothly before I could answer. "We wouldn't be planning a wedding if his heart belonged elsewhere."
The questions continued as we made our way toward the waiting car, each one designed to probe for cracks in our united front. Miranda handled them all with the skill of someone who'd been trained from birth for this kind of scrutiny, while I focused on not letting my true feelings show on my face.
We were almost to the vehicle when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and felt my heart skip a beat when I saw Lucas's name.
"I need to take this," I told Miranda, stepping slightly away from the crowd.
"Kieran," Lucas's voice was tight with urgency when I answered. "Where are you?"
"Chicago," I said, something in his tone making my wolf pace anxiously. "At the hotel. Why? What's wrong?"
"Seraphina's awake."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Three days I'd been waiting for those words, three days of not knowing if the silver poisoning had caused permanent damage, if she'd wake up at all.
"Is she—how is she?" I asked, my voice rougher than I'd intended.
"She's asking for you," Lucas said, and I could hear the mix of relief and concern in his voice. "Kieran, she remembers everything. What Marcus tried to do, what you did to save her. She wants to see you."
My chest tightened with a mixture of relief and longing so intense it was almost painful. She was awake. She was asking for me. After five years of silence, of pretending she didn't exist, she wanted to see me.
Before I could respond, Miranda snatched the phone from my hand with smooth efficiency.
"Lucas," she said, her voice carrying the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed. "This is Miranda Ashworth, Kieran's fiancée. He doesn't need to be bothered with useless information about your family drama right now. We have important business to attend to."
She ended the call before Lucas could respond, handing my phone back with a satisfied smile.
"Miranda," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Protecting our interests," she replied calmly, though I caught a flash of something desperate in her eyes. "She's awake, she's fine, and that's all you need to know. We have a flight to catch and a wedding to plan. Your responsibility is to me now, not to her."
I stared at her, seeing clearly for the first time the calculating ambition beneath her perfect exterior. She wasn't just concerned about political fallout—she was terrified that Seraphina's return would destroy everything she'd worked for.
And she was probably right to be afraid.
But as we climbed into the car and headed toward the airport, as Miranda continued to play the devoted fiancée for the cameras, all I could think about was the fact that Seraphina was awake.
And she was asking for me.
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