Page 93 of The Royal in Room 3

I quickly greeted the others, then placed an arm on Father’s and nudged him gently. “Something has come up that we need to discuss urgently. Will you spare a few minutes? Please?”

“Of course, son,” Father said. “Allow me to wrap up my conversation with the minister, and I’ll meet you in the small council room.”

I hesitated, wanting to press that this was urgent. He squeezed my hand, the look in his eyes reassuring. “Go ahead of me, Soren. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

I nodded, rendered a stiff bow in parting, and mulled over my father’s words as I walked out of the ballroom.

His words sounded a tad strange. What did he mean he wouldn’t disappoint me? I couldn’t decipher his message, so I shoved it from my mind to focus on the issue at hand. I had to convince my father that I needed to return to California right away. I didn’t want to live without Jude anymore. Another three weeks without him felt suffocating, and I didn’t want to do it.

If I couldn’t have him and the crown…I would just have to choose him.

I wanted both, but if I was meant to have only one, it had to be Jude.

The thought stayed with me as I crossed the corridor toward the small council room. The noise from the ballroom faded behind me. My footsteps echoed against the polished floor, and I tried to slow my breathing, to decide on the argument I intended to make. I would be respectful and practical. I would remind Father that the event had gone well, that my schedule could survive a brief absence, and that if I waited until winter, I might lose my chance with Jude completely.

I pushed open the door to the small council room without knocking, too distracted by the speech forming in my head.

The room was dimmer than the corridor, lit only by the lamps along the walls and the pale evening light slipping through the tall windows. For a moment, all I saw was the long council table, the high-backed chairs, and the shadow of someone standing near the far side of the room.

I groaned.

“Rasheed, I swear to God, if you’re in here kissing anyone else, I’m not covering for you this time.”

The figure turned, and the air left my lungs.

It wasn’t my brother.

Jude stood near the window, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark trousers, the other hanging at his side as though he didn’t know what to do with it. He looked different in the suit he wore, broader, too handsome, and too real when my mind must be playing tricks on me.

Jude was back in California. He couldn’t be here in my home.

For several seconds, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at him while my heart tried to decide whether to break or fly out of my chest.

“Little prince,” he said quietly.

The sound of his voice nearly undid me. I gripped the back of the nearest chair, afraid my knees might fail, and suddenly Father’s strange promise made perfect sense.

He had known.

He had known Jude was here.

Jude opened his arms. I wanted to be angry at him for dumping me before, for breaking my heart and turning his back on me, but I couldn’t. Later. I could do all that later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Jude was here.

“Daddy—” I flew into his arms, colliding with his chest so hard that he stumbled back. “How are you here? You’re supposed to be in California, and I was going to come to visit you and⁠—”

“Shh.” He placed a finger over my lips. “You don’t have to say anything. Please, let me.”

Still shell-shocked, I went along as Jude walked me over to a chair and gently pushed me to sit. And then he took a knee while clutching my right hand.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears.

“I am asking you to forgive me,” he said softly. “I’m a coward, little prince. A coward who doesn’t deserve you, and because of that, I hurt you by turning my back on you. There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t regretted it.”

“You have?”

“More than you can know. It was pure agony being without you.”

I frowned, tugging my hand away from his. “But it’s been months, and you haven’t once contacted me.”