✺✺✺
ONCE THEY WERE ON THE AIRPLANE TO VALERIA, PARIS couldn't help but think of her final goodbye to Tasha.
After returning back to the hospital so Paris could see her kids one last time before they left for Christmas—it would be her first holiday without them in years—Paris had said goodbye to each of her patients.
Dhonielle had said, Remember the plan! Get married. Become a rich window. Give me all your money. And if you need help, I have a shovel.
Gloria had said, I'm going to miss you so, so much, Doctor Young. Thank you for being there for me. I love you so much.
Tasha had said, You'll come back, won't you?
And Cat, although she wasn't exactly a patient, had said, You should have a Christmas wedding.
It was safe to say Paris had been sobbing by the time she left.
Rory had to pry her away from the hospital and even now, tucked against the plush red window seat of a private airplane, Paris was still thinking of her children.
Christmas wouldn't be the same without them.
There were three days until December 25th. Tomorrow night was the Charity Gala event that she would be attending with Rory.
Valeria—they were going to Valeria.
They were going to a kingdom.
Paris was going to be staying in the palace where Rory had grown up. She was going to be staying in a land Rory would one day inherit.
Break her heart.
Her six-week deadline was almost up.
The king would be expecting his perfect heir.
And Paris . . . what was Paris going to do?
She couldn't break Rory's heart. She was sure of that now. But she couldn't refuse a donation, especially not when it could save the lives of her children.
"Are you okay?" Rory said softly, holding her hand.
Her crutches were propped up on the side of the plane.
"I forgot to tell you," Paris said. "I'm so proud of you for making so much progress. You've worked really hard to be able to walk again and I . . . I'm really impressed."
"You're impressed?" Rory said, grinning. "Thank goodness. My entire goal in life is to impress pretty girls."
"You consider me a pretty girl?"
"I consider you the most beautiful girl in the world," Rory said, and there was no hint of laughing in her voice. "But I thought I should take it slow. I wouldn't want to scare you."
"You're an idiot," Paris said, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling.
"A royal idiot," Rory said. "Your royal idiot."
"Guys, we can hear you!" Alec said from the other end of the plane. "And we're trying to make out here."
"Sorry for disturbing you!" Paris called back.
"You should be!" he said.
Paris was still laughing as she settled back into her seat, and Rory pointed. "Look," Rory said in a soft, wondrous voice. "The sky."
The sky—such a beautiful, simple pleasure.
It was painted in every shade of blue and violet, with silvery grey clouds and star-flecked wind. Beneath the plane, Paris could see the horizon of Vancouver fade away.
Europe. They were going to Europe.
And although Paris was nervous, afraid, she wanted to laugh at the sheer amazement of it. The freedom to go wherever they wanted.
Valeria.
It hit her, then—that Rory would be queen one day.
Rory would be queen and . . .
An entire country—Rory would have an entire country to rule.
Where did that leave Paris?
Maybe it would be for the best, this heartbreak. Maybe it was only inevitable. Because there would come a time when Rory had to choose, wouldn't she? And a queen could never choose a girl over her kingdom.
It would happen anyway, Paris told herself.
But she couldn't really believe it.
✺✺✺
THE FLIGHT WAS LONG, AND RORY EVENTUALLY FELL ASLEEP on Paris's shoulder, her head buried against Paris's neck.
For the entire eight hour flight, Paris refused to move even an inch.
When they finally touched ground on the private runway outside of the palace, Paris's heart began to pound.
She would finally meet the king in person.
She would finally see the place Rory would one day rule.
It didn't feel real—none of it felt real except for the girl sleeping on her shoulder. And with the king's voice whispering in her ear, Break her heart, Paris didn't want her to be real, either.
She didn't want to break Rory's heart.
Finally, Simon stood and moved towards where Paris and Rory were sitting.
"Do you want to wake her up, or should I?"
Paris had just spent the entire eight hours of the flight making sure Rory didn't wake up. So Simon was the one to shake Rory's shoulder roughly.
Rory's head snapped up. "What? Where—?"
"Valeria," said Simon, and there was a trace of longing. He had missed it here, Paris could tell.
"Oh," Rory said, slouching back as Simon handed her the crutches.
"I think I'm cramped," Paris said.
"You let me sleep on you this whole time?" Rory said incredulously. "You must really like me."
"Don't let it get to your head," Paris shot back. "You drool when you sleep."
Rory turned a shade of red that shouldn't have been attractive, and yet—Paris wanted to jump her right there and then.
But Alec, waiting at the entrance, gave her a look that was both delighted and a warning. And Paris let out a breath—it was time to see the country where Rory had grown up.
✺✺✺
VALERIA.
Glory. Prosperity. Liberation.
The foundations upon which the four-century old country stood. And it was a beautiful sight. With rich, flowing green grass and snowcapped mountains in the distance and a pink glittering lake in front of the palace.
"Is that lake really pink?" Paris asked.
A gleam of childish excitement sparked in Rory's eyes. "Yes," she said. "And isn't it so cool? I used to go skinny-dipping in there—"
Simon coughed.
Rory's attention flitted back to the host of palace guards who were escorting them to the throne room.
Someone muttered, "The princess hasn't changed."
And Paris didn't think had heard, but she had.
"Say it to the princess's face," she said calmly.
The man with the stiff red uniform turned around.
"Pardon me, Madame?"
"It's Doctor, actually," Paris said cheerfully. "And if you're going say something like that, say it to the princess's face."
Her nerves were tingling with lightning now.
This probably wasn't a good idea.
But Paris knew that if Rory had heard something about her, Rory would have defended her. And even though this might not have been the time or the place, Paris was pissed.
"Paris?" Rory said.
The guard didn't move, didn't blink.
Coward, she thought.
"Next time you think of saying things like that about a person," Paris stated calmly, "then I suggest you make sure you have the guts to say them to said person's face."
The guard turned around.
And Paris hummed with satisfaction that would definitely get her in trouble later.
✺✺✺
A FEW MINUTES LATER, THEY WERE OUTSIDE of the throne room.
Paris took in a breath. Rory squeezed her hand.
"Let's do this," Rory said fiercely.
Paris didn't think she had ever loved her more.
The grand doors to the throne room were pushed open, revealing shiny marble floors and enormous white columns. Resting on a dais, there was a golden, claw-foot throne with velvet red seating and a man atop it.
A second, smaller throne was empty beside him.
Distantly, Paris wondered if Rory's mother had left because she had felt like this. Overwhelmed by the royalty and the riches and the power.
But Paris stood her ground.
She was a doctor. She had worked her ass to get through medical school. She had forgiven Rory, and she . . . she was in love with the princess.
She deserved to be here.
The king looked up.
Through the screen, he had seemed younger. Less weathered lines. But in person, there was an aged quality to him—as though he was ten years older than Paris knew he was. And although his hard jaw and trim silver-speckled beard were handsome, there was something distinctly severe about him.
As he saw Rory, his face betrayed nothing but stone.
"Her Royal Highness," announced one of the guards. "Accompanied by Paris Alvarez Young."
Rory leaned over to the guard and whispered, "Doctor Paris Alvarez Young."
And Paris thought she had never loved Rory more than in this instant.
How was it possible to love someone this much?
Paris didn't even realize she was grinning until the announcer corrected himself and the king turned his severe stare onto her.
"Doctor," he said with cold distaste.
This was the man who had told her to break his daughter's heart.
He wanted a perfect, broken princess.
He wanted a tamed daughter.
But even if Rory wasn't as wild as she had been, there would still always be that violent delight in her, that feral passion. And that was a part of her—that was something nobody deserved to take from her.
Not even Paris.
"King William," Paris said with equal coldness.
"Father," Rory interrupted. "I wanted to tell you . . . I wanted to tell you that this is the girl I'm bringing to the Charity Gala tomorrow. This is the girl I want by my side."
"You have many lovers, Rory," said the king. "It would not do to pick one now and end up with another one whenever you like. People will talk."
"People have always talked," Rory gritted out. "But this is the girl I want by my side now and for the . . . foreseeable future."
Paris wondered if she had meant to say forever.
And her heart clenched at the thought. At the joy that it brought her, thinking of a forever with Rory.
Because strangely, stupidly, ridiculously enough, Paris could see them together.
This is crazy, she thought.
The king said, "Fine, Rory. Do as you like. But you remember what I told you?"
Rory motioned to the crutches on either side of her.
"How could I forget?" she said darkly.
"Good," said the king, and there was icy satisfaction in his tone.
Paris wondered at that—the promise in his tone.
But she didn't have time to think about it, because they were being escorted out of the throne room and Rory was breathless and grinning beside her.
"That went well," Rory said.
"That went well?"
"Sure," she said easily. "It doesn't get any better than that."
"Then I'd hate to see how it gets worse," Paris mumbled.
But Rory only laced her fingers through hers. "Want to come see the pink lake?"
All the guards had dispersed except for Simon. He leveled a glare at both of them.
"No funny business!" he called out, as Rory began limping as fast as her crutches would allow her, pulling Paris along. "I don't want to see any skinny-dipping!"
"Of course not!" Rory shouted, looking back at Simon with what Paris knew was her signature, devilish grin. To Paris, she whispered, "That's for later tonight."
✺✺✺
You guys are safe for now.
We are going to hopefully try and finish this today, but if not, I'm probably going to delay the ending for this until after Christmas.
From the moon and back,
Sarai