Tessa had told Adam. She’d cheapened Margaret’s secret and put it in the hands of a twenty-two-year old dolt.

  Margaret didn’t bloody want Adam to know! What’s more, Tessa told him everything. She’d told Adam what she refused to tell Margaret.

  “I would never tell him,” Tessa reiterated. “I understand the delicacies of the situation. Also, this is my unsolicited opinion, but he’s not made for the national stage. The international stage.”

  “Why should I believe that you didn’t tell him?”

  Tessa sighed. “Believe what you want. He was telling me about Alec Castle. Adam is jealous and indiscreet. I have no reason to tell him anything.”

  “Oh,” Margaret said.

  **

  Back in bed with Adam, Margaret listened to his steady breathing. She had to end things.

  Giving him up…they weren’t right for each other, and they both knew it. He didn’t care about seeing the world. His video games made him happy. He didn’t know how to pleasure her and didn’t seem interested in learning. He didn’t love her—he even called her “mate” once in a while like he’d call a male buddy.

  Still, he brought normalcy to her world. He got her a cellphone, paid the monthly bill and didn’t ask questions. He accepted her for who she was. Maybe that was the problem. She wanted someone curious, someone who asked questions and who seemed interested in her and her condition. She needed someone to push her to become more than the sum of her parts but someone who did it in a better way than her mother.

  Breaking up was inevitable, and doing it sooner rather than later was better. Yes. Yes. It was.

  Besides, without him around, she could spend the whole week with Tessa and finally find out what the detective knew.

  **

  At six-thirty in the morning, Adam still slept, but Margaret could wait no more. She rubbed Adam’s back like she rubbed Emma’s all these years ago and waited for him to rouse. Dad is dead.

  “What?” he said at last, rubbing his eyes. At the palace, he rarely slept over, and she forced herself to smile in the face of his stinky morning breath. As for her own breath, she’d brushed her teeth and taken stock of her frightful visage in the mirror. She decided to leave her appearance as it was so he would know that this decision troubled her.

  He sat up, yawning. “What?” he repeated. Margaret had drawn the curtains back before waking him, and gray, unpromising light spilled into the room.

  Adam took his first good look at her. “Sheesh, Margaret. You look like shit.”

  Words tumbled away from her, trying to hide. She followed the practice that one of her doctors recommended last month. So far, it worked decently. She mentally reached her arm out to grab a word. It anchored her.

  “Adam,” she said slowly, “I couldn’t sleep. I’m scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Us,” she said. “That we’re wrong together but that we’re going to end up married and unhappy because of inertia. Because of what’s easy.”

  He gulped. “Too early for this conversation, mate.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She looked down, not brave enough to meet his gaze, but she could feel his eyes on her.

  “Did you bring me to New York to break up?”

  “No. I actually hoped that the travel bug would bite you, and you’d become excited to be here.”

  “Oh. Is it Tessa? Was this Tessa’s idea?”

  “No.”

  He looked unconvinced, and his next move was to disappear in the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later looking more presentable and alert.

  “What now?” he asked. “We’re supposed to be in New York for one week.”

  “Do you want to go home?”

  He cocked his head. “The laundromat texted and wanted me to come in tomorrow. Suppose I should.”

  In that moment, Margaret nearly took everything back. Marriage to a man she didn’t love? Simply going along with things? Fine, okay! As long as he stayed because the prospect of being with Tessa in wide-open New York and trying to atone for her father’s death was too terrifying. It was also too stupid.

  It couldn’t work. For example, why would a woman like Tessa spend time with a woman like Margaret? A mental deficient, a killer?

  Margaret had been colossally stupid, and she sat in horrified silence as Adam packed his toiletries and a few other odds and ends. He’d left his clothes in his suitcase to play a game on his phone while she unpacked her clothes.

  “How, uh…how should I get back home?” he asked. “Call the airline and change my ticket?”

  She had no idea but nodded.

  He glanced around the room with the air of a person becoming claustrophobic. “I’ll go to the airport and do it there.”

  She saw that he was struggling not to cry. “Adam—”

  He held up his hand. “No, you’re right. We need a break. Let’s call it that, eh? Makes it easier. It leaves hope.”

  “A break,” Margaret murmured. The only difference was the absence of the word “up,” but Adam was right. It did seem lighter.

  “Do whatever you have to this week,” he said. “Uh…give me a call when you get back if you want. The phone bill’s paid up through the end of the month.”

  He walked to the door. Margaret wanted to run after him and beg him to stay, but that would be the easy way out. It’d get her nowhere with Tessa.

  He turned. “I know we’re not meant to be together,” he said quietly. “Thing is, you’ve broken up with me several times already. You don’t remember, do you?”

  Margaret’s heart thudded, and her expression must have served as answer enough.

  “I’m not mad this time either, but you have to know, one of these times, you’re going to break up with me, and I won’t take you back. Maybe it’ll be this time. See, when I make up my mind for real, for final, there’s nothing you can do to change it. It just is. You can’t keep walking all over me.”

  A frisson of fear caught on something in the back of Margaret’s throat. She hadn’t expected this.

  With that parting shot, Adam was gone, leaving Margaret with nothing but memories: their first meeting at the funfair, his gentle smile, her liking his Pac-Man T-shirt, his face brightening up at her compliment, her inviting him to ride together, him showing her around the arcade and the various games, her drawn to the fact that he didn’t seem awed or cowed in the least that it was the heir to the throne he was goofing around with. She loved his enthusiasm and had thought him a guy passionate about life. Later, of course, she found herself wrong, very wrong.

  Margaret wanted to sleep for days and days, and maybe when she woke up, Adam would be back and magically improved.

  Ah, if only. Tessa awaited, and much work remained to be done.

  **

  Tessa knew she didn’t look her best that morning, but surely she didn’t look as bad as Margaret. Tessa sat in the dining room eating fresh fruit and croissants when the princess entered and flashed a wan smile.

  She looked exhausted, half-dead, pale, just plain horrible. Tessa had to fight not to stare. Margaret also used a walking stick, which she hadn’t yesterday. It was black with a brass handle.

  One of the guards entered the room and laid an assortment of pills on the table. “Your medications, ma’am,” he said.

  Margaret sighed. “Okay, thanks.”

  Mercifully, he left without sticking around to check that she took the pills.

  “Good morning,” Margaret said, brushing the pills into a messy circle at her side.

  “Morning,” Tessa said, trying on a cheerful smile. It was a surreal situation to be sure, to wake up in this gorgeous hotel suite and in that bed. She’d struggled to fall asleep, but when she finally did, she slept wonderfully. Too bad it was gray and dismal outside, not sunny and cheerful.

  Margaret sipped from water and orange juice. She surveyed her own plate of fruit with a reluctant gaze.

  “Where’s Adam?” Tessa asked, and Margaret winced. Ouch. Tessa had hit a nerve.

  “Gone,” Margaret whispered. “He left. I broke up with him.”

  Tessa stared. “Oh. Uh…wow. That’s rough.”

  “It had to happen,” Margaret said. “Should’ve done it sooner. And, apparently, I have. Multiple times.” She tried on her own smile, and it did succeed somewhat in casting sunshine onto her expression. “Let’s not talk about him right now. Today’s Saturday. Do you have plans?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then you can come with me to The Lion King this afternoon on Broadway. It’s the excuse I told Mum and Emma and Katharine for my New York trip, that Adam surprised me with tickets to the show.”

  “The Lion King,” Tessa echoed. “Margaret, do you know what it’s about?”

  “Lions? I let Adam choose the show.”

  Oh joy. Poor woman had no idea.

  “It’s about a lion royal family,” Tessa tried to explain. “There’s a king, his brother and the king’s son, the crown prince. The uncle kills the king and tries to kill the nephew as well.”

  Margaret’s face turned the shade of old paper, dry, crumbly and yellow. “But it’s supposed to be for children,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “A lot of Disney productions are, but the overarching themes are rather adult when you think about it.”

  “I don’t want to see the play.”

  “We’ll do something else,” Tessa agreed. After last night, she knew she was stuck with Margaret until they figured some stuff out. Tessa refused to up and leave Margaret to deal with things herself, no matter how tempting it felt.

  She wondered how long it would be before Amalia called or showed up. Surely the queen mother kept tabs on her daughter and must know, or would know soon, about Tessa visiting.

  Margaret picked up a fork and speared a few grapes. She ate slowly, taking tiny bites, and Tessa attempted to focus on her own food. Her grapes tasted fresh, like they were picked the day before. They burst with flavor, and so did her strawberries, melon and pineapple. Ah, the joys of being rich.

  “Is this your first time in New York?” Tessa asked.

  “I think I came with my family when I was little, but basically, yes.”

  “There’s lots to do. Lots to see. I’ll show you around.”

  Margaret reached for an orange pill and took it with a gulp of water. Same with three other pills.

  “Can we do regular things too?” Margaret asked in a small voice.

  “What do you mean? Regular tourist stuff?”

  “No. Regular things like showing me your place and hanging out in your favorite bar.”

  “Yes. Yes, sure.” Margaret wanted to be a normal person like everyone else, and Tessa understood. Katharine had been the same way but hadn’t quite been able to nail it. Too introverted, too much in her own mind. Too much heir to the throne.

  Margaret brightened. “Really?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I thought you’d say no,” she admitted. “Adam never showed me his place or introduced me to his roommates or family. I embarrassed him. My status and my…my everything.”

  “I’m totally fine with you seeing my place,” Tessa said. “Although I should warn you that…” She glanced around the dining room in which they sat and took in the view of Central Park in the distance. “It’s about the size of this room. I don’t mean the suite—the room. And it’s a lot less attractive.”

  Margaret beamed. “That sounds wonderful.”

  Tessa snorted. “It does?”

  “Yes,” Margaret said. “Can we go there first?”

  “Sure.”

  Margaret swallowed the rest of her pills and finally got into eating her breakfast. Tessa couldn’t help but smile. She was glad that her dingy little place could bring such joy to someone.

  “You might even see a cockroach or two at my apartment,” Tessa teased after they finished eating.

  Margaret grinned, as Tessa knew she would. “Awesome.”

  **

  Margaret and Tessa rode in the back of the rental car. Margaret had almost pushed for the subway after she found out that Tessa took it to get to The Mark. However, Margaret forced herself to pause and see the bigger picture. She needed to conserve her energy whenever possible in service of her plan. Subway rides, transfers and potentially dealing with the public would tire the hell out of her.

  So, she gave in to the car suggestion and soaked in what she could of the city. New York surrounded her, a young city compared with London, but sleek and powerful with its own history. However, every time she spotted a plane, a pain pricked her heart. She hoped Adam was okay.

  Tessa’s neighborhood in Astoria, Queens, was a hodgepodge of low-rise, buildings, rundown stores and restaurants. It was a far cry from the rambling palace that Margaret called home, and a thrill touched her spine. This was a place where punishment could easily find her. She could get mugged, robbed or seriously hurt and perhaps begin to move on from her father’s death.

  The car stopped in front of a dirty brown building. Margaret gripped the handle of her walking stick and hauled herself out. One of her guards, John, walked beside her, and Tessa joined them. “Sasha’s parking the car,” John said.

  “She’ll be a while,” Tessa replied dryly.

  Good thing Margaret had conserved her energy by skipping the subway because Tessa lived on the third floor. Margaret hobbled up step by step, thankful for the cane’s assistance and glad that John and Tessa didn’t offer to help.

  Finally, Margaret reached the third floor and took in the drab brown carpeting and the musty smell. She loved them.

  “Bit more to go,” Tessa said lightly. “My apartment’s at the end of the next hallway.”

  “No problem,” Margaret said. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and using her cane to steady herself, but she also took the time notice the details of normal, everyday life. For example, the cigarette burns in the carpet, the blue streak of crayon on one side of the off-white wall paint, the giggles coming from behind one of the doors, the spot where the air stank of heavy perfume.

  At last, they arrived at a green door marked 321. Tessa fished a keychain out of her bag.

  Lordy, though. The place really was cozy. Even with Margaret’s walking difficulties, they accomplished a tour in less than two minutes. The bathroom was behind its own door, as was the bedroom and one closet. Other than that, the living room and kitchen and everything else kind of bunched together in a strange jumble.

  “Can we be alone, John?” Margaret said.

  His mouth set in a thin, grim line, but at least he didn’t say no. In fact, he looked at Tessa, and she nodded. If she hadn’t been police, he probably would’ve insisted on staying.

  But she was police. A former royal undercover guard, actually.

  “Let me have your phone number,” he told Tessa.

  They exchanged numbers, and Margaret thought of her phone cradled in the bottom of the huge purse John carried inside for her. Her security officials still didn’t know about it, and she wanted it to stay that way.

  “I’ll be right outside the building. Call when you’re ready to go, and I’ll walk you out,” John said before leaving.

  Margaret needed to sit, badly. Her legs would give out soon from the overexertion. Thankfully, Tessa gestured for her to sit and asked if Margaret wanted water.

  “Yes,” Margaret said.

  While Tessa was gone, Margaret studied her bookshelves. Plenty of books on crime—general murder, rape, serial killing, domestic murder, child abductions, crimes committed by females, crimes that females committed.

  Tessa returned with two glasses of water and sat next to Margaret on the small couch, their legs almost touching. Margaret wanted to drink greedily, so parched was her throat, but she tempered her sips.

  “Nice collection of books there,” Margaret said.

  Tessa smiled. “What books do you read?”

  She hesitated to tell the truth. A book Tessa would find easy remained out of Margaret’s reach. Too many names, plots and whyfores to remember, and the longer she read, the harder the words became and the squiggler they became.

  “I read everything,” Margaret said vaguely. She pointed to Tessa’s books about female criminals. “Anything in them that applies to me?”

  Tessa nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Females, they, uh, they tend to go for nonviolent means like poison and men for hire.” She had a strong side profile, Tessa, and really pretty, shiny hair. Margaret took her in as the detective sipped from her water.

  “Do you read for fun?” Margaret asked.

  Tessa affected a wide-eyed expression. “What, you don’t think these books are for fun?” She grinned, and touches of pink colored her cheeks. “I’ve been known to read romance and sci-fi.”

  “Lesbian romances?”

  “Yes.”

  “How are they different from straight romances? Are they?”

  Tessa laughed. “Not sure when I last read a straight romance, but I think lesbian romances have more emotion involved. The writers have to be more creative too. Like, a man and a woman can make a baby, and so there can be all kinds of surprising pregnancy things in a straight romance. Not so much in a lesbian romance.”

  “Katharine likes sci-fi.”

  A wistful smile touched Tessa’s lips. “She still reads sci-fi, does she?”

  “I think so.”

  “We wrote a short story together at Purcell with another classmate. It was about a man who discovers his wife is a robot. It was fun. I have a copy here somewhere.”

  “Can I read it?” Margaret could handle a short story, and she was curious to see what her elder sister had crafted.

  “Sure,” Tessa said. “Be right back.”

  Tessa was gone longer than Margaret expected, and she tried to keep her eyes open, she really did, but the pills and the lack of sleep from the night before…she didn’t have a fighting chance.