Page 58 of The Broken Dawn

"I'm just the spare," Harald said, his voice tight. "Freddie is⁠—"

"I know." Something dark flashed across Christian's face. "But we both know Uncle Gustav is failing. And Freddie is both single and reckless." He shrugged. "The line of succession is fragile."

Harald's hands trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists. "Are you threatening my brother?"

"I'm stating facts." Christian's eyes were merciless. "Your mother already suspects something isn't right with you. She's commented on your... delicate nature. Your lack of interest in the girls she's introduced you to." He smirked. "What do you think she'll do when I tell her exactly why?"

"You have no proof," Harald challenged, though fear clawed at his throat.

"I don't need proof." Christian's voice hardened. "Just the right words in the right ear. Your mother once had a lady-in-waiting who caught your father's eye. Pretty thing. Dark hair, clever tongue. No one's seen her in, what, fifteen years?" He shrugged. "The Queen protects what's hers. The monarchy. The bloodline."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "She'll destroy him, Harald. She will make him disappear so thoroughly you'll never find him again. His whole family will vanish—his whore of a sister, his peasant mother. All of them, gone." He pulled back, studying Harald's face with cold satisfaction. "Unless, of course, you end it. Now. Tonight."

Harald's throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Christian's smile was almost gentle. "Ask yourself this: is he worth risking everything? Is he worth his family's lives?" He straightened his uniform. "You're just the spare, Harald. Replaceable. But even spares have their uses—if they know their place."

As Christian turned to leave, he paused, adding casually over his shoulder, "Oh, and don't think about running to your father. The King is too weak to stand against her now, and the sooner you realize who will hold power, the better for us all." He stepped back, his public smile returning as if it had never left. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, Your Highness. I believe they're serving that champagne you're so fond of."

As Christian melted back into the crowd, Harald remained frozen, the alcove suddenly feeling like a trap rather than a refuge. He needed to find Jakob — now — but as he stepped back into the hall, a line of dignitaries formed to speak with him. He straightened his collar and stepped into his role.

"Your Royal Highness." Colonel Björnsson clasped Harald's hand. "Fascinating lecture, though I wonder if Sweden's neutrality will hold as firmly as our pike walls once did."

"We maintain hope for peace," Harald replied, the diplomatic answer sent over from the court coming automatically to his tongue. Across the room, Christian worked through his own circle of admirers, his head tilted in calculated charm while his eyes tracked both Harald and Jakob.

Jakob remained pressed against the far wall, his face unreadable. Whatever had upset him before the lecture clearly hadn't passed. Harald ached to cross the room, to pull him aside and discover what was wrong. But duty anchored him in place as more officials approached, eager for a moment with the young prince.

Harald nodded through another naval officer's concerns about Baltic shipping routes while tracking Jakob's movement toward the door. His chest tightened as Jakob disappeared into the hallway without a backward glance.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," Harald said, cutting off a professor mid-sentence about artillery ranges. "There's an urgent matter I must attend to."

He didn't wait for their response, moving with the purposeful stride that parted crowds even in the most crowded royal functions. Christian's eyes narrowed from across the room, but Harald didn't care. Let his cousin watch. Let him know that his threats wouldn't work.

The hallway was empty when Harald reached it, the polished floors reflecting the dim evening light. He listened for footsteps, heard nothing but the muffled sounds of the reception behind him.

"Jakob?" he called, his voice echoing slightly in the corridor.

No response.

Harald moved faster, checking side rooms and alcoves. The academy was a maze of corridors and hidden spaces—places where cadets could disappear when they needed to. Where would Jakob go?

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a figure leaning against the wall, head bowed.

"Jakob" Harald breathed, relief washing over him. "What's happened? You looked⁠—"

"Not here." Jakob interrupted, his voice tight.

Harald nodded, understanding immediately. "Come on, we can take the back stairs to my quarters. No one will disturb us there or even miss us while the party is still going on."

They walked silently through the dark and quiet corridors, passing the dorm rooms of other cadets with their names on brass plaques on the doors, two or even four to a room, until they came to the end of the hallway where there were two small singles for the head cadets, and a large room that had once been for a faculty advisor but had been cleaned and vacated for Hal's use. He slid his key into the lock, turned it, and gestured for Jakob to precede him, through the door.

The room was dark, and Hal walked over to the desk and gently lit the lamp.

"Hal," Jakob said quietly, as Hal blew out the match. "I need to tell you something. Christian cornered me in the armory before the lecture."

Hal turned, the burnt match still in his fingers. "What do you mean?"

Jakob's voice was steady, but Hal could see the tension in his shoulders. "He made it very clear that he knows about us. About the farm visits, the time we've spent together. Everything."