He was looking at her curiously, and she wondered if she’d made the wrong fashion choice. Maybe red had been the wrong color to wear the day after her incident.

She slid into the seat, aware that Johan was still looking at her oddly. Maybe he’d been drunk the day before and had forgotten what passed between them. Maybe he was disgusted. Maybe he thought she was shameless, strutting in with her skin exposed and—

No, that was her father, not Johan. She was fairly certain her Phoko had no idea the word shameless existed.

“Gutten jour,” he said, his voice husky. She wondered if he’d stayed up late partying, and that was why he sounded like a sexy Franco-Germanic vampire. He would make a good Rognath the Vampire Lord, especially if he kept staring at her like he was capable of eating her—which he had already offered to do.

Which I might not turn down next time.

Heat rushed to her face at that thought.

“Mmoro,” she replied, turning from him so he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Across the expanse of grass beyond the tables, a few of the royal guards stood overlooking the small gathering. Lineo, who had definitely seen Nya’s breasts in the sauna and witnessed her weird exit from the reception with Johan, gazed at her, then at Johan, then back at Nya. She said something to the woman beside her—was that Indira, the palace staff woman? Nya cringed; they were probably talking about how weird she was, running from the reception and ruining expensive fabric.

Nya grabbed a pear tart, biting into the pastry and sighing with delight. She hadn’t been allowed to have sweets very often before—her father had told her that her stomach couldn’t tolerate them.

While she was in the hospital, recovering from the shock of her father’s crime and detoxing from the awful evidence of her father’s love, she’d raided the vending machine and eaten the sweets she always eyed at the market. She’d figured if what her father said was true, the hospital was the best place to test it. Nothing had happened besides a wild sugar rush and, a few days later, an acne outbreak.

She’d decided to take Ledi’s advice and go to New York immediately after.

“I have to talk to you about something,” Johan said as she chewed. “When you’re done eating.”

She glanced at him, took in his nervous state. “Are you all right? Are you worried about the referendum?”

He startled. “You know about that?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth and she wondered if she had smeared her lipstick.

“There’s this invention called the internet,” she said with a little more attitude than was necessary.

“Right. Sorry. A lot of people don’t even know Liechtienbourg exists,” he said. “Outside of royal watchers. But no, it’s not that. Not directly at least.”

“Are you worried about your trip to Njaza?” Thabiso called across the table. “Even I don’t really mess about with that Sanyu. His father was mean, and they say he’s meaner.”

“It’s just one day,” Johan said in that stiff aristocratic way he spoke in sometimes. He didn’t speak like that when they were alone, Nya realized. “Besides, how intimidating can a man whose first name is Stanley be?”

“May the goddess protect Johan tomorrow, especially if he calls Stanley Sanyu by his first name,” Thabiso said solemnly, hands clasped. Then he reached out and grabbed one of the goat meat pastries from the middle of the table with a gleam in his eyes.

“Tomorrow?” Nya felt panic stir in her. The wedding obviously wouldn’t last forever—three days was short for a Thesoloian wedding celebration, but it’d been adapted to fit the modern schedules of the guests. But it seemed much too fast, and she was shocked to find that she was sad that she wouldn’t see Johan anymore. Sad like she had been when Portia had left for Scotland, and Ledi and Thabiso had gone back to Thesolo.

She’d be alone again, alone with the decision of what job to take, where to live, and whether or not to see her father.

“Oh,” she said.

She ate quietly after that, unable to shake the sadness that had descended upon her while the conversation continued around her. Guests began to leave the table eventually. Likotsi was taking Tavish and Portia to the palace guard museum, and Fabiola had to go call her cousin and aunt. Ledi and Thabiso started making lovey-dovey eyes at one another, and Nya stood.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” she said, and then sped away before anyone could stop her.

She hated the feeling rising in her. The wedding had been difficult and full of strange events, but her friends had all been together. They’d talked and laughed and had fun, despite the worries pressing in at her from all sides. Now they would leave, paired off and happy. Portia had her new life coaching business and Tavish had peerage duties. Ledi and Thabiso would be occupied with royal duties, and Ledi’s STEM program for young girls would be launching in the coming weeks. Likotsi and Fabiola had their own lives to attend to. Johan had his own life to go back to, as well, and because she was a girl who didn’t crush her dreams when they were small enough, now she would miss him.

He wouldn’t give her a second thought—it had only been a few days, and their interactions had been forced by the wedding. It wasn’t as if he’d sought her out. She’d taken a few coincidences and blown them up into something more. He’d find some beautiful Njazan woman who didn’t make a mess of herself and have fun with her.