I shake my head.

“Just think about it. You said you two are done. She’s getting married. You should move on.”

Owens’ words stick with me through the rest of the trip and the flight home. I’m swarmed with fans when I land at the airport in South Carolina, and I end up with an entourage of airport security agents the escort me to a waiting car.

As the driver heads towards my neighborhood, I study the palm trees and thirsty grass. I know I’ll talk myself out of this if I wait for too long. I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap on the number for the team publicist.

She answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi Ellie, it’s Jace Dawson.”

“Hi, Jace. Is everything all right?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Yes. To what you asked me last week. I’ll do it.”

“The dinner with Miss South Carolina? You’ll do it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll make the arrangements for the end of next week. The press is going to love this!” She sounds thrilled, exuberant that the months of pestering me about how I’m not visible enough are finally paying off.

I hang up, wishing I could share her excitement.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

VIVIENNE

I’m sitting out in the gardens, working on a paper, when one of the butlers appears.

“Your Highness, there’s a young woman here to see you,” he informs me. “In the front foyer of the residence.”

I look at him with confusion. I don’t have any idea who he could be referring to; I’m not expecting anyone. Curiosity propels me to my feet and inside.

Katie stands in the center of the marble floor, mouth agape as her gaze bounces between the twin sweeping staircases.

“Katie?” I ask, my surprised voice echoing along the marble. “What are you doing here?”

She looks over at me and smiles widely, rushing over to give me a big hug. I hug her back automatically.

“Surprise! It’s so good to see you!”

“I can’t believe you’re in Marcedenia,” I say, looking her over. She’s grown out her chestnut hair, but aside from that she looks exactly the same as the night she welcomed me to Lincoln.

“Me neither! I was visiting my mom’s great-aunt in Paris, and she happened to mention her trip to Marcedenia. So then I thought how cool it would be to come see where you live. Or rule, rather.”

I smile at her bubbly babbling.

“So I called the palace, and I got transferred like ten times—how many people do you have working for you? And then finally this one really serious guy got on the phone and started asking me all these questions.”

“That was probably Richard,” I surmise.

“Yes! That was his name! Anyway, he asked me all this stuff about myself and Lincoln and how I knew you. And then finally he said I could see you. So I bought a flight to come here, and they had a car waiting for me at the airport and brought me here and…do you seriously live here? Like this entire giant museum is your house?”