For the sake of appearances, Rosalina let her ex touch her as they walked down the hallway and boarded the private elevator, but the moment they stepped out into the parking garage, she jerked away from him. “Harrison, can you get me home?”

“Of course.”

“Rosalina.” Marcel sounded exasperated. “We’re going to the same place.”

But she ignored him and followed her bodyguard to a different car.

Through tinted windows, Rosalina looked out on the capital city. The businesses looked right out of a fairytale with their wood and stone features, the window boxes bursting with colorful flowers and window panes of glass so old they looked to be melting.

Villeneuve was charming, beautiful, and it looked nothing like the wild west town of Calamity. Her heart ached for Brodie, couldn’t bear how he would feel when he heard the news of her engagement party.

She thought about what he’d said, about working out of the old playbook. When crisis hits, that’s exactly what my family does. They rely on the archaic way of thinking.

But it doesn’t have to be like this.

Building a university on royal grounds was a move into the future.

Marrying Marcel was not.

Since boarding the plane, she’d lost all sense of time, so she picked up her phone. Friday at three PM. Parliament must surely be in session. She tapped out a text to her Uncle Girard.

I know this is highly unusual, but I would like to speak in front of parliament.

Girard Caron wasn’t really her uncle, but she’d grown up with him, and he and her father were close as brothers. He was also Prime Minister of St. Christophe.

He responded right away. And when would you like to do this? After the vote on Tuesday, we’re in recess until September first.

Her pulse quickened with purpose. I can’t wait that long. It needs to be done before the vote.

I’m in the middle of a session so I can’t call to find out what you’d like to speak about, but I suspect it has to do with your father’s condition?

We’re not releasing any information on that, but yes it has to do with this situation. Please trust me?

All right. When would you like me to put you on the docket?

In fifteen minutes. Twenty if there’s traffic.

Child. You are such a trial. And I love you dearly. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.

She leaned forward. “Harrison? There’s a change in plans. Can you please take me to the State House?”

He eyed her in the rearview mirror with a look that said, What’re you up to now? “Is your father going to like this?”

“If it goes my way, then yes. He’ll like it very much.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll…” She swallowed. “Do whatever I have to do.”