They had been put in different cars. Lucia was alone with Michael, and their car was following the one with Adela and the Myrian king, with Caroline and Alexander's car bringing up the rear. Lucia had made it from the plane to the car without embarrassing herself, but she was not focused on that. She was focused on Adela. She looked so regal, so serene, and yet like she was an ice sculpture brought to life. She wondered for the umpteenth time if Adela was okay beneath her façade. But then, when she thought about it, there was nothing she could do. It was Adela's decision to get married. It was Adela's choice to be here. All she could do as a little sister was be supportive.
"Hey," Michael said beside her, and she looked at him.
"Where are you lost?" he asked.
"I am worried about Dela," she said.
"She will be fine," Michael took her hand and squeezed it in assurance. "Gustav will not mistreat her."