Page 46 of Wicked Queen

“I thought Brex would be able to handle her.” I knew just enough about his military training to know that he didn’t shy away from life and death situations.

“Brex isn’t going to last much longer,” she informed me. “Alexander keeps putting him in impossible positions. How is Brex supposed to handle an adult woman who never matured past sixteen? He can’t say no to her. He can’t ground her.”

“Neither can Alexander.” It was the crux of our problem. We’d invited Sarah back to London without considering how to help her acclimate to life. We were all tiptoeing around the fact that she wasn’t a twenty-six year-old woman—not mentally at least.

“Honestly, I don’t know what Alexander should do. But pretending it’s everyone else’s problem isn’t going to solve it.”

“I just keep trying to think of how she must feel.” Maybe that was the key to figuring this out.

“I do imagine how she feels. It’s what keeps me from smacking her.”

“I wondered how you were doing it.” It might have been all that kept me from doing it myself. “She just keeps going back to where she was before that night. Back to the clubs. Back to drinking.”

I could only hope drugs weren’t involved this time, too.

“It’s like she’s searching for something. Like she’s going to find herself there.” But someone was going to have to make her face reality: she wasn’t going to find the ten years she’d lost there. They were gone forever.

“She sure knows a lot about London nightlife,” Georgia said, examining a stamp in the shape of a posthorn on the back of Sarah’s wrist. “She’s already found the hottest club in town: Lot 49.”

“I’m guessing we have Pepper to thank for that.” I was going to write her a personal thank you note soon, complete with a heartfelt post-script to get a fucking life.

“Brex said she met someone he didn’t know there, like a date. God, help us if she’s discovered Tinder.”

She didn’t waste any time. Then again, she’d had so much time taken from her. The trouble was that she still had the experience of a child, but her brother and his friends weren’t around to keep her in check. She was roaming the streets of London with a half-cocked idea of what she’d missed and far too much self-confidence.

Georgia finally managed to get Sarah’s dress over her head, and she fell back onto the mattress in her underwear. We stood on either side of the bed, debating what needed to happen next.

“I think that’s good enough.”

“I could stay with her,” I offered. It wasn’t really Georgia’s job, and I’d be in the bathroom half the night anyway, thanks to his little majesty using my bladder as a punching bag.

“If you stay, I’ll stay and then we’ll both sleep like shit.” That settled the matter. She walked across the room and plucked a pile of clothes off a chair. “Did you get my delivery?”

“Yes.” I was suddenly grateful the lights were out. “Thank you.”

“All the more reason for you to go back to bed.”

I tugged the coverlet past her heavy legs until I had enough slack to pull it over her. Sarah’s eyes opened as I tucked it around her. The moonlight caught their glassy surface, illuminating her confusion. “Poor little princess locked up in a room.” Her hand strayed from under the blanket and skimmed over my stomach. “Would you lock your princess up?”

I took a step away and stared at her, my hands closing protectively over my stomach. Georgia was at my side, angling herself between my body and the bed.

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” I said, willing myself to believe it. Is that what she thought? That they locked her way and forgot her? I knew the truth. They’d never given up on her. That was the key to helping her now—proving to her that they’d never given up on her.

“I’ve got her from here.” Georgia never looked away from Sarah, who’d yet to fall back asleep. Instead, she’d fallen silent, her eyes lifeless like a doll’s.

“She just needs to know the truth. That her father loved her. That Alexander was trying to protect her.” She’d come back to London on the defensive, and we’d responded in a similar fashion.

Georgia nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “That might be true, but you should talk to your husband. I think his sister should find somewhere else to stay.”

“We’ll make it work. Maybe a different wing of the house so that she doesn’t wake up the baby—”

“Clara,” she stopped me, “I don’t think you want her in your house at all.”

I tiptoed into the bedroom a few minutes later and found Alexander awake, staring at the ceiling. He was still wearing the clothes he’d thrown on when we’d gotten the call.

“I’m going to fail her,” he said when I climbed into bed next to him.

I placed a hand on his chest, not wanting to interrupt him but letting him know I was listening.