Page 8 of Reign or Shine

Gathering all my courage, I take a step toward the sun, intending to make my way to Henry.

Someone grabs my arm and I wince at the small sting of pain.

“There you are. I need your help. We have a costume emergency.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. Before I know it, I’ve been dragged back into the hotel. I give Henry one last look over my shoulder, committing him to memory.

At least our meeting was a memorable one. A good story to tell in the future. Once I got over my embarrassment.

I knew I’d never see him again—besides all the Googling and social media stalking I was going to do once I got home—and I tried to be okay with that. But the deep ache in my chest told me otherwise.

And not even cutting open a chicken costume to rescue a performer from heat exhaustion distracted me enough from my feelings.

Chapter Four

Henry

“Have you requested a background check yet?”

My hand tightens on the glass of iced tea I’m holding. It’s a miracle the glass doesn’t slip through my fingers and fall to the ground with all the condensation. The clouds that threatened to darken the afternoon disappeared as soon as the party started and the sun was now beating down.

“What are you talking about?” I ask my cousin, not bothering to turn to him. We’re both doing the same thing—staring across the lawn.

However, I’m confused as to why he’s looking at the chicken. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Ellie.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Simon scoffs. And he’s right. I do. “That’s the move.”

“The move?”

“Yes, when someone sparks our attention, good or bad, that’s our move. Our indicator that we’re interested.”

My lips press together in a concerned frown. He was right again. That was our move. As a member of the Caledonia royal family and a minor celebrity of sorts, we always had to be careful about who we let near us. Especially within our inner circle.

“So…” Simon draws out the word, turning to me with a knowing smile on his face. I wait until my cousin has taken a drink before I decide to respond.

“Yes.”

A brow lifts in delight but he doesn’t say anything.

Clenching my jaw, I give in and tell him what he wants to know.

“Eleanor Lyn Bailey. Twenty-six, youngest of two children from parents Craig and Mary-Lyn. Master’s degree in environmental engineering, with no priors or criminal record. Will that suffice? Or do you want to know her social security number and allergies?”

“It will do for now,” Simon jokes. “I’m sure by the end of the week I’ll be getting a packet informing me about your new relationship.”

Or engagement.

The thought pops into my mind. The idea doesn’t shock me, I realize, my lips twisting in a small grin. I really like that idea.

I’m getting ahead of myself, however.

“I hate to say you’re right,” I begin and stop, leaving Simon hanging. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Bastard,” he mumbles quietly, but there’s humor in his voice.

“Have you done the same with the”—I pause, not sure how to end my sentence without insulting my cousin or the performer—“the, umm, chicken?”

“Firstly, she’s a rooster.”