Page 27 of The Broken Dawn

As the final notes faded, Christian escorted Rachel directly to where Jakob and Harald stood. His timing was impeccable - ensuring that whatever conversation followed would happen under the watchful eyes of the highest-ranking officers in the room.

"Your sister is a delightful dancer, Eliasberg," Christian said, his voice carrying just far enough to draw attention. "A natural talent. One wonders where she learned."

Rachel's smile faltered slightly at the undercurrent in Christian's tone. She looked between her brother and Christian, suddenly aware she was standing in the middle of something far more complex than a dance.

"Rachel," Jakob said evenly, "might I speak with you? Privately?"

"I was just about to fetch Miss Eliasberg some punch," Christian interjected smoothly. "Perhaps after?"

Rachel's chin lifted slightly. "I'm quite thirsty, Jakob. We can talk later."

The look that passed between the siblings spoke volumes - challenge met with frustration. As Christian led Rachel away, he paused beside Harald.

"Cousin," he said quietly, "you might want to remind your friend about the importance of decorum. Scenes at official functions reflect poorly on everyone involved."

Jakob watched them go, a muscle working in his jaw. Without a word to Harald, he turned sharply and headed for the terrace doors. The rigid line of his shoulders warned away anyone who might consider following.

Harald hesitated only a moment before moving after him. He nodded politely to the officers he passed, maintaining the facade of royal composure while his heart raced with concern.

The terrace doors had just swung shut behind Jakob when Harald felt a hand on his arm, stopping him with just enough pressure to be proper yet unmistakably firm. Christian stood beside him, fingers gripping Harald's uniform sleeve with practiced casualness that nonetheless conveyed clear intent.

"Cousin," Christian murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only Harald could hear. "Perhaps not the wisest moment for a royal pursuit. Half the faculty is watching."

Harald glanced around, suddenly aware of the eyes tracking his movements across the room. Commandant Lindquist and Major Bergström were engaged in what appeared to be casual conversation, but their attention was clearly fixed on him. Several senior cadets had also paused their discussions, watching with poorly disguised interest.

Harald's eyes narrowed. "What are you playing at, Christian?"

"Playing?" Christian's laugh was soft. "I'm merely looking out for the family's interests. As I always do." He moved closer, lowering his voice. "Speaking of which, cousin - your friendship with young Eliasberg is becoming quite the topic of conversation."

Harald's blood ran cold. "He's a study partner. Nothing more."

"Of course he is." Christian's tone was honey-sweet with poison. "But you know how people love to talk. Especially about princes who spend rather a lot of time in the company of... well." He gestured vaguely at the barn doors where Jakob had disappeared. "Someone so decidedly common."

"Since when do you care about my choice of friends?" Harald fought to keep his voice steady.

Christian's eyes softened with practiced concern. "Oh, Harald. I've always cared about you. About the family's reputation." He straightened Harald's tie with delicate fingers. "Which is why it pains me to see you being so... indiscreet."

The word hung between them like a blade.

"I don't know what you're implying," Harald managed, though his mouth had gone dry.

"Don't you?" Christian's smile was gentle now, almost pitying. "The lingering looks in class? The way you hang on his every word? Even the servants are starting to notice." He sighed. "What would your mother say?"

Harald jerked back as if slapped. "You wouldn't-"

"I don't have to say anything," Christian cut in smoothly. "As long as you can be sensible about this. After all, we're family. I only want what's best for you." His eyes hardened. "But really, Harald. A laundress's son? If you must take a boy as a playmate, you can do so much better."

With that, Christian turned away, leaving Harald alone with the taste of ash in his mouth. The crystal wine glass trembled in his hand, and he set it down before he could shatter it. Christian knew about him; about his feelings for Jakob. He sucked in deep breaths, but still felt shaky and as if he couldn't quite breathe. He needed air—and needed to find Jakob before Christian could do more damage.

When he reached the terrace doors, Harald paused, his hand hovering over the handle. Through the glass, he could see three figures in the moonlight: Christian and Rachel, laughing together, and Jakob approaching them with thunderous purpose in his stride. Harald hesitated, torn between intervention and discretion, then stepped back into the shadow of the doorframe as Jakob reached the pair.

Even through the glass, Harald could see Rachel's laughter die in her throat.

"Enjoying yourself?" Jakob's voice was muffled but audible, tight with controlled anger.

Harald pressed closer to the glass, the cold seeping through his gloves. He shouldn't be listening to this—shouldn't be witnessing what was clearly about to become a family argument—but something kept him frozen in place.

Rachel's chin lifted in a gesture Harald recognized from Jakob. "Actually, yes. Cadet Lieutenant Vasa has been a perfect gentleman."