Chapter 6

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Two weeks later, my finals had wrapped up and I was on a plane. Part of me was peeved with the squishy seating and the senior citizen in front of me who reclined their backrest until it was digging into my knees. I knew that Jasper and Zara had access to a private plane and I knew that they would not be relaxing in Banff with just one week between now and their wedding. But I reminded myself that I was flying to a foreign country for free and that I had more important things at hand.

During the nine-hour flight, I did my best to research the couple. Zara was a young monarch and had made headlines multiple times of the past year. In the span of a few months, she had taken power, caused economic spirals, fled, and returned home just to be filmed as her young sister attempted to murder her for power. When Jasper had finally proposed to her, it seemed almost yawn-worthy when a picture of her plain gold band was printed on every major paper.

As I dug around on her, I found that she was in fact allergic to cats, but she had her own dog. Though it was not confirmed, her closest friend was her head chef, a young woman from Mumbai. She was fond of swimming and traveling.

Jasper was tougher to dig up dirt on seeing as the government would protect him—and the information surrounding him at all costs – but I had read all of those reports as soon as they had been released. I felt as a Kingsley, it was my duty to know what had happened to Jasper. We had all thought he was dead. He left for an assignment and was never heard from again. Until he showed up, covered in scars and with a child.

That man had gone through things I had never even heard of, forms of torture I couldn't even fathom. It ranged from being locked in a dark room for days on end with no light, no food, no human contact. He had been crammed into an enclosed space for twenty-four hours that was too short for him to stand up in, too small for him to sit in. Waterboarding, combing, sleep deprivation, starvation, stress positions, that man had endured it all. And the only reason he came out of it alive was because he was driven to save his son.

So knowing what I knew about Jasper, I should have expected the hell fire I was walking into. But, for a time, I was enchanted by the quaint streets and the cheery citizens in Zara's country. It very much reminded me of a fairytale. I asked the cab driver to take me to the center of the city and enjoyed a few local shops from the capital. After hearing about the famous apple orchards and sampling some fresh apple cider, I was tempted to book a tour, but knew better. I hailed another cab and was taken as close to the palace as possible. There was a brief security check after I showed my ID, then I was ushered up to the palace.

The palace was more modern than any castles I had ever seen, yet still maintained old-time charm with its stones and the fountain at the front. The lawn was manicured to perfection and each flower seemed to be blooming in sync with those around it. Staff on the grounds were in perfect uniform and I almost felt intimidated stepping up to the front entrance where a man eased open the giant wooden door.

I was left to stand in the grand foyer, wondering if all of this could really be marble, while someone went to fetch the queen. It was no secret that Jasper made ample amounts of money, as did everyone who risked their lives for their country through our work, but even this must have been a shock to him. I felt stunned staring at the statues that should have lived in a museum and paintings that were larger than life.

"Oh, London, hello," Zara greeted, her heels clicking away on the stone flooring. I immediately assessed her outfit, a little surprised that she wasn't wearing a ball gown with a tiara. The blouse with a pussycat bow at the neck and sheer sleeves fitted nicely into her waist until the white skirt cut across, modest and sharp all at once.

"Hello, thank you for having me," I said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

She wrapped me in a loose hug, smelling like expensive perfume and pricey hair products. To be fair, whatever was keeping her updo in place was nothing short of magic because there was not a single fly away.

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