The Candidate ✓ (Book Two)

Chapter Fourteen

TW: suicidal thoughts

  Lauren's P.O.V

  When my eyes open, the first thought in my head involves the events of last evening. The unexpected dinner conversation comes second. Your daughters brother hiding a relationship from everybody for seven years is memorable enough on its own- his fiancé having twenty dead children because none of them got medical care before or after their birth- now that's fucked.

  I understand both sides. Fear isn't something that just disappears because you're a king- protectiveness over your sister doesn't either. I would know. At the same time, I'll never get why he's chosen not to mention it to anybody for seven years. Oh well- I don't have to understand. Mina's understandably pissed- maybe I would be too if I was looking at it from her perspective.

  "Hey sis, I've been dating somebody for seven years and now we're engaged! Surprise!" Okay yeah- I'd be pissed.

  I sit up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. Kyle stirs, turning over on his side. His lips are slightly parted, and the eyelashes closest to his nose touch his cheekbones. He looks so much younger in his sleep- when there are no signs of the past decade on his face. I smile. Twenty years ago, if you'd said we would live in the White House one day, I'd shrug and say maybe. Ten years ago, if you'd said we'd be visiting our daughter's gay brother whose the king of a country that's been notoriously homophobic the past 100 years, I'd look at you like you had two heads. Five years ago- if you told me I'd be a Vice Presidential candidate, I would've tilted my head.

  Life has a funny way of leading you places you never expected. I stand up, unable to sleep. I check my phone, and it's three in the morning.  Insomnia's a bitch.

  I still haven't seen most of the castle. Maybe a walk would help me sleep. I look down at my oversized shirt and sweatpants, and shrug. I silently close the room's door until it clicks in place, and stop for a second to look around the hallway. Night-Shift secret service and palace guards line it. Paintings by former slaves line the walls. Joseph told me once that since a few of the plants native to Ordaia have insanely naturally concentrated dyes, a single drop of the juice or a tiny piece of a petal could could make almost a gallon of paint. They hide this fact from their trade partners so nobody gets any ideas about stealing a large quantity for profit- because the catch is- the four or five plants capable of doing this are still extremely rare, so Ordaians like to keep it to themselves and make large quantities for the artists whenever a small patch pops up.

  The colors are all vivid, too. I walk out into the main hallway that leads to the ballroom. In it, the nicest seating areas of the entire castle line the walls. On one, Ella sits, reading something- and I realize I've never seen her without makeup or out of uniform. She looks...normal? I realize that I don't know very much about her- even though she's been working for us for seven years. She's given a non answer or a broad one anytime I ask her anything specific about her past. Like every secret service agent, she receives lie detector tests and background checks every other week now. The newer, improved lie detector tests are literally impossible to lie on, so I'm not even remotely worried that she might be hiding something important, but she does seem like she doesn't want to talk about her past.

  "Hey-" I say, and she jumps, not expecting that anybody would be in here this time of night. "Can't sleep either?"

  She shakes her head. "No- I can only sleep in my bed and I forgot my pillow."

  "You're here for two more days. Ya gotta at least try." I plop down on the couch beside her.

  "I did try-" she replies. "What are you doing up?"