Gemma leaves us alone in Enzo's sitting room. Which I'm fairly certain breaks a hundred rules of social engagement and perhaps one or two actual laws, but who am I to resist helping my sister, saving our nation, and staring at Enzo's enticing eyes?

It's oddly silent in the guest quarters, every suite sound proofed against intrusions from the outside world. We offer our guests the utmost privacy, which is necessary in issues of international relations, but also makes the excess suites brilliant for renting or leasing for cheap to our nation's poor.

Which Father hates, of course, but with today's news of Gemma's probable ascension, it seems more possible than it ever has.

Enzo brings me back to the present with a little grunt and then aggressively clears his throat. "So, what are we supposed to do, exactly?" His eyes glance past me and I look to see what he's so focused on.

There, on a side table beside a grey chaise, is his sketchbook, lying open with a scene from our back gardens half-drawn inside. There's a couple at the center, but I can't make out the faces from this distance.

"Do you want to get that?" I point my hand as haphazardly as I'm able, pretending that I'm not excessively curious about who he's been drawing. And maybe a little bit hoping it's me. With him.

"I've told you before that you can look if you want," he says with a shrug, but his Adam's apple betrays him, bobbing with a hard swallow. "It's just a drawing."

"First, let's get back to the matter at hand," I reply, turning my back to the sketchbook and giving him an opportunity to close it if he doesn't want me to see.

He sits down again on the edge of a chair and folds his hands in his lap. "We need to get Antonio on board with an alliance," he says again. "Which means... what? He has to marry Gemma?"

"Well..." I try to figure out how to explain everything, but it's tricky.

"That's going to go well," he sighs, running his hand through his already unkempt hair, shirt falling further open.

"No. Wait. I'm just... I'm thinking."

His eyes drift around the room, hands fiddling in his lap, while I try to figure out how to explain everything that has happened in such a short time. "What we need is an alliance between our nations. And someone who will agree to become engaged to Gemma for at least long enough for us to get through her coronation. Once Father's out of the picture, there's not much stopping us from calling off the engagement."

"So Antonio needs to get engaged to Gemma and then not marry her?" he asks, face betraying his lack of faith in my idea. "And you think that's going to make for good relations between Manarola and Tilcara?"

"Shit." I hadn't thought of that at all, actually.

"Yeah. Shit."

"Okay, new plan." I stand to pace, the full skirt on my dress bumping into a variety of furniture as I do.

I've done three laps of the room when he says, "Which is what?"

"I'm thinking!"

"We have less than 18 hours, Erica. We're going to need to think faster."

"Well then why don't you do some of it," I protest. "What are we doing here? How are we going to handle the mess my ridiculous father left us in?"

"You'll be okay. I'll make sure of that," he says, his hand brushing mine.

"I'll be okay?" I repeat, stopping in front of him and staring down into his eyes. "Yeah, I know I'll be okay. I'm not worried about me. I'm worried because apparently two whole nations are crumbling and several sixty-something-year-olds have been unable to fix it and now it's up to you, me, my sister, and a guy I've talked to once. So ... I'm a little stressed."

The room closes in on me and for the first time in several years I feel the panic squishing my chest.

"Erica?" Enzo asks, pushing me gently onto whatever soft surface was right behind me and holding both of my hands in his. "It's going to be okay. I promise I'm smarter than I look."

I know what to do when this happens, I know how to handle the panic. And I know none of it is rational, but I'm still shaking, nervous as my lungs refuse to breathe like they should.

"Come here," he says, pulling me into a hug and pressing his chest into mine. The warmth of his embrace relaxes my muscles just enough to stop the shaking.

I rest my head on his shoulder and let the tears slip out. Tears I'd been hiding inside for longer than I could remember, unable or unwilling to share them with anyone. Gemma had enough going on. No one else would understand.

He doesn't say anything or ask me questions. He just holds me until my breathing slows and my tears run dry. Then, he holds me some more. Finally, he pulls back slightly to ask, "You want some water?"

I nod and he sets me down on the couch so he can race to his sideboard and pour out a glass for me with two ice cubes, just like I prefer.

I accept it gratefully and down most of it before saying what needs to be said. "I think there are only two solutions we can pull off in time. Either we get Antonio to agree to propose marriage to my sister and we shore up the alliance between our nations..."

"Or?" he prods.

"Or we have to go through with Father's plans. I don't see another option that doesn't result in more loss of life than I'm comfortable with."

"Which is zero," Enzo says without even having to ask. "I know."

"But the problem is, I don't think Antonio will agree to it. You're very persuasive, but even then... we're going to need a really good reason it would be good for him, not just us."

"We know he won't agree to it, at least not at first. But we need to get him to see the value, right? Yes, for him, but he's also a good guy. He'll see the importance of keeping people alive."

"A small comfort, I guess."

"Well, we're going to need to lead with the stuff that isn't marriage, though," he muses. "I think the marriage will be a harder sell than the alliance."

"My sister isn't that bad!" I remind him, as though he has forgotten. "But I know you said you think he has someone he cares about back home."

Absolute silence fills the room. No sound to be heard except my dress crinkling against the furniture when I adjust my legs under me. "What if we could get word to her and let her know it's all a front? Do you think that might help? Do we even have a way to accomplish that without alerting my father?"

"I don't think we should send word without his permission," Enzo begins, but that's not what I had in mind.

"I just want to know if it's something we can pull off," I press. "Is that something you can do?"

"It is," he says with a nod. "In a couple hours or less depending on where she's located."

"Okay," I say, taking one steadying breath and standing, shaking my hands at my sides. "That's our plan then. First, explain the situation. Second, explain how he can help. You'll tug at his heartstrings."

"Only because I believe it!" he cuts in. "And then third, we let him know about the engagement and our plans to keep his girl in the loop."

"Right. And we just have to hope he sees reason."

"And that he doesn't see too much reason because this idea is a little unorthodox."

"You're telling me," I sigh. "But I think we need to get going. I'm as ready as I'm going to be."

"You need more water first?" he asks, steadying me with a warm hand to my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I reassure him, resting my own hand on his. "I'm really ready. As long as you're there with me."

"I'd love to be there." He smiles and holds his hand out to me. "Shall we?"

"We're walking together?" I ask, even though it's the best idea he's had all week. Every other time I've even attempted to do something that might eventually lead to our bodies touching at all, I've been wholly rejected. The trend has been that he is not interested in physical contact. And here he is holding out his hand. "You don't have to do that."

He pushes it a little closer to me until my hand is mere inches from his. "I want to," he whispers. "Despite everything I've said this evening about credibility and reliability and being seen cavorting with the princess. I want to."

I place my hand in his. "What does holding my hand have to do with—?"

I don't even finish the sentence before his eye roll and dramatic sigh alert me to my ridiculous question. "Oh."

Heat rises up my cheeks in what I'm sure is a very unattractive patchy splotch, but what can a girl do?

When I meet his eyes again, a small smile greets me, drawing me up to his soft eyes, looking at me like he knows me, even after meeting me only a week ago.

"Look at the book," he demands with a softness. "I think you'll understand."

I refuse to let go of his hand, dragging him through the room until we're standing in front of his sketchbook.

The delicate couple in the middle is obvious now. Another one of me and Prince Antonio.

"Why are there so many drawings of me with the prince of Manarola?" I question, flipping back through the drawings. "I think I've spoken to him maybe once."

"And it seemed to go very well," he replies. "I thought you were maybe... well you kept looking at him."

"And talking about him," I finish for him. "Right."

"But now... Now I know you were looking at him for Gemma and not for you, well..."

"I was never interested in him for anyone, really, until you started to explain the situation from your town and the role Maralola could play in their security."

"I wasn't supposed to tell you that, you know. But you have an effect on me."

"Is this your way of asking me out on a date?" I ask, smile almost cracking my face in half.

"If we make it through tomorrow, would you like to go out with me?" he asks me, eyes staring into mine despite the obvious nerves radiating off him.

"I think I would like that," I answer. "If we make it through tomorrow."

"Right. One problem at a time."

He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it.

"Now, let's go find the prince and talk him into a marriage literally nobody wants but everyone needs!" Enzo says emphatically.

"When you put it like that it sounds like it's going to go so well," I tease.

"We can convince him," he replies, taking my hand and threading it through his arm.

"I like how that sounds," I tell him. "We."

"You got it, Princess. You and me and the security of several nations. No biggie."

I can't tell if he's joking or not, but his confidence is calming. Like he'll be there to keep everything stable and I won't have to hold everything together alone.

"Maybe you should button that shirt first," I laugh, pointing to his relative lack of clothes. "I'm not sure if the hallways are still cleared of non-royal movement."

"Of course." He frees his arm from mine and quickly buttons his shirt, missing one and cursing when he gets to the bottom of an uneven hem.

In only three minutes he's properly attired and all that's amiss is my hair which we can't do much about given how many pins are still in it and how many are missing. Tiara sparkling, dress starting to wrinkle, and man on my arm, I make my way down the hallway to the suite where we've housed Prince Antonio of Manarola.

Enzo and I stand outside the room, gripping each other for support and staring down the door like it will tell us what to do.

"Please announce us," I say finally, acknowledging the guards of some kind standing sentry at the door. "We need to speak to Prince Antonio as a matter of urgency.

"Of course, Your Highness," they say with a small bow, announcing us and waiting.

Antonio's reply comes in no time. "Let them in," he says, voice void of emotion. He's going to make a wonderful king with a poker face like that.

I'm shaking a little as we wander into the expansive room, but I keep my head up and my working smile plastered on my face. Enzo grips my arm in a little reassuring squeeze.

And then the doors slam closed behind us and it's just me, Enzo, and the future of our country in a room with the one man who can make it happen without ruining my sister's life—or my own—forever.