Chapter 20 — Lisabet

Everything happens in a flash.

We’re packed and ready to go the second the sun peaks over the horizon. Miles and I move silently, sneaking down the intricate series of halls past the attendant’s quarters, making it to one of the back entrances of the summer palace. The air is still incredibly cool and crisp from last night’s rain, and the dark hallways are nothing but shadow.

David has a car pulled up to the exit, engine a low rumble as the vehicle waits for us. Without a single word, he helps us load the trunk with our luggage. I can’t help but notice the way he doesn’t look at either of us. His usual, cheery demeanor has been replaced with a heavy seriousness I’ve never seen him bare.

Maybe he just wants to focus. Get us out of here as quickly as possible.

We get into the back of the car, David circling around front to slip into the driver’s seat. The next thing I know, we’re racing down the service route leading downhill and away from the palace grounds, easing into early-morning traffic towards the capital’s center.

I observe the waking city in a solemn awe. I don’t know when I’m going to be back. If I’ll be back. There’s no telling what our future has in store.

I’m honestly more worried about what’s going on in Miles’s head.

I pray he doesn’t resent me for making this decision, even if it’s his. What if we wake up one morning and realize that we’re not going to work out? Him leaving his kingdom behind for me is already so extreme, but for things to unravel on top of it all? What if he’s making a mistake? What if I’m being selfish for wanting him to make that mistake?

It’s only when Miles takes my hand into his and gives my fingers a squeeze that I realize it doesn’t matter. He brings a sense of inexplicable calm, of reassurance. I may be out of my element right now, out of control, but I know without a doubt that we’ll be all right. I feel safe when I’m with Miles, totally and completely at ease. Whatever comes our way, I’m sure we’ll weather it out together.

Because I trust him.

The signature red brick buildings prominently featured in Oxlandian architecture eventually fades from view as we drive further and further away from the city towards the airport. High, elaborate buildings are slowly replaced with low, modest wooden houses as wide open farmlands sprawl out into the distance.

“Why aren’t we going to the international airport?” I ask, voice just barely audible over the rush of wind over the hood of the car.

“It’s more discreet this way,” Miles explains. “My family likes to use the rural airport to avoid the crowds.”

“You’ve really thought of everything, huh?”

He smiles at me, kissing my temple in lieu of an answer.

David glances at us in the reflection of the rearview mirror. It’s only for a second, but something in his eyes looks…worried.

It isn’t until we pull up to the long stretch of tarmac that I understand why.

Sitting out on the runway is a sleek private jet, cabin door pulled open and very clearly expecting our arrival. Parked directly beside it are a series of black SUVs, along with a swarm of suited security personnel. They’re positioned in a defensive circle around one person in particular.

The King.

Dread rushes through me, fills me from head to toe. It’s cold and it’s empty and it has my stomach doing flips. I know even before I look to Miles that we’re in trouble. I knew us leaving the country like this was too easy.

“How did he know we were going to be here?” I ask, voice shaky and squeaky.

Miles shakes his head. “I have no—”

David stops the car and keeps his eyes forward, gripping at the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white.

Miles frowns, seethes between gritted teeth. “It was you.”

David lowers his head, refuses to look his prince in the eye. “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still technically work for His Majesty. He gave me a direct order to report to him about your whereabouts and plans.”

The blood drains from my face and pools in my gut, a sticky lump lodging itself in my throat.

“You were the one who told the King about Paris,” I realize aloud. “That’s how he knew to send Tobias to follow us.”

I sense Miles’s anger before I see it. His body turns hard beside me, every muscle tense and on the brink of snapping. I’ve never seen him so enraged. His jaw is tight, his eyes are bloodshot, and his breathing is shallow.

“I never took you for a traitor, David,” Miles grumbles bitterly.

“Please forgive me. I really am on your side, but I need this job, too. I couldn’t risk the King firing me for failing to—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, sounding even more pathetic than the first time.

I turn to Miles, so nervous that I’m shaking. “What do we do?”

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “We get on that plane and we leave.”

Miles and I step out of the car. My heart’s beating so hard and fast that it rivals the sound of the jet’s engines as they warm up before takeoff.

The King steps forward, stone-faced and unreadable.

“Did you really think you could leave without my finding out?” he asks. It sounds more like a statement than it does a question, every word brimming with confidence and power.

“Let us go,” Miles demands. “Don’t make this a thing.”

“She can go,” the King says, tilting his chin up at me. “But you will stay.”

“I’m not getting on that plane without him,” I say clearly, more determined than I’ve ever been. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep manipulating people. If you keep us from leaving, you’ll be nothing more than a tyrant.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to defend him. Especially not after everything he’s done. He’s a tyrant in the making himself.”

I freeze, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“He didn’t tell you?” the King asked, raising an eyebrow at Miles.

I look to Miles. “What’s he talking about?”

Miles looks paler than I’ve ever seen him. His mouth opens, but no words come.

“Miles?”

The King sighs. “Did you really think you got the job as a court musician out of nowhere?” he asks.

“I thought…I thought the Queen said she liked my music.”

“She does. But there’s still an intensive application process. Spots aren’t just offered, even if a member of the Royal Family were to request you. Didn’t you ever think it odd how easy it all was?”

Miles can’t meet my gaze. I pull away, flabbergasted.

“And what about that sweet, out-of-the-blue record deal?” the King continues.

I shake my head, realization crashing down on me like a cold, terrifying tsunami. “No,” I mumble feebly. “Miles, that…That was you?”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says hurriedly.

“I thought they wanted to sign a deal with me because I’m good.”

“You are good.”

“Then why wouldn’t you just tell me the truth?’

“Because I didn’t think you’d accept the offer.”

“So you made me think that I had what it took instead? It had nothing to do with merit. Turns out that it was nepotism at its finest.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t say anything.”

“You shouldn’t have contacted SM Records in the first place! They probably only called me because they didn’t want to upset you. Now they probably think I’m some sad, sorry musician who couldn’t make it on her own.”

“I was trying to help you.”

“Who says I needed the help?”

“You weren’t exactly treading water before you met me, Lisabet.”

My heart twists in my chest.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask softly, almost too afraid to finish my question. “You…You looked into my past. My money problems.”

His silence speaks volumes.

I’m burning hot and somehow also freezing cold. I can’t think straight. If it weren’t for the fact that my head were attached to my neck, it would have been rolling.

“The cello,” I say slowly. “The trip to Paris. The job. The record deal. The whole plan to run away together. You were just…Were you just manipulating me?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Lisabet, listen to me. I—”

“Were you doing it out of pity?”

“God, no. I don’t pity you, Lisabet. I love—”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Miles looks utterly distraught. “Lisabet, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

I can’t describe how hurt I feel. There aren’t enough words. It’s like I’ve been run over by a train, and now it’s backing up on its tracks to make sure it finishes the job. It feels like the air inside my lungs is burning up, leaving nothing but a hollow vacuum within me.

This whole time, I should have trusted my gut when I thought things were too good to be true. I should have known better. What prince would waste so much time and money on someone like me? But I think what hurts me the most is that Miles didn’t think I was good enough to earn a record label all on my own. I don’t need fancy things or lavish trips. All I wanted was someone who believed in me.

The fact that he went behind my back to land me a deal tells me everything I need to know.

“Lisabet,” Miles says slowly, carefully. “Let’s get on the plane. We’ll talk about it later.”

I shake my head, take a step away. “Don’t.”

“Lisabet?”

I pull away completely and start towards the plane. A part of me doesn’t want to leave. Every fiber of my being screams at me to stay, to work things out. But I’m so blinded by rage and betrayal and anguish that I know it’d just be easier to leave. To turn from him and never look back.

We’re too different.

I was foolish to think that this was ever going to work. Everything Miles has done up until this point has been some attempt to make me his. What once I thought was sweet has now been tainted beyond doubt.

I was wrong about Robert.

I was wrong about Miles.

Maybe I’m better off alone where no one can doubt and hurt me. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life anymore. I don’t want to have to rely on the charity of others to make it to where I want to be.

I climb the stairs onto the plane, doing my best to ignore Miles calling my name.

“Lisabet!” he shouts, rushing after me. The King’s bodyguards get in the way, forming a barrier between the two of us. They hold Miles back. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t get past them. “Lisabet, wait!”

The stewardess waiting aboard closes the jet door behind me.

I don’t dare look out the window until we’re safely up in the air, leaving Oxland behind.

For good.