Page 69 of The Broken Dawn

For the next few weeks, Hal and Jakob awoke before the sun, snug and secret in the blankets of Hal's bed when they could and apart when they must. They dressed in the weak light of a slow-rising winter sun, pausing for slow touches and kisses as they wrapped themselves in clothing and coats and walked the distance to the Eliasberg farm. After a cup of Sarah's unbelievably strong coffee - to which Hal had to add nearly half a cup of milk lest his stomach rebel - and a sweet, stolen moment in the barn, they separated to their tasks. Hal had already learned that farm chores wait for no man, not even princes and those who love them.

Several hours later, Jakob balanced the morning basket of eggs against his hip as he watched from the barn door. His mother stood in the clean straw, speaking quietly to Hal, who leaned on a pitchfork, his face flushed from exertion. Hal had stripped down to his undershirt, the fabric clinging to his shoulders. His suspenders hung loose at his hips, and there was a smudge of dirt across his cheekbone.

"My son," Sarah was saying, her voice carrying in the quiet barn, "tells me I judged you too harshly."

Hal paused, not looking up to meet her eyes. "Does he?"

"He says that I am wrong and that you see him. Truly see him." Sarah moved closer. "I need to know—what do you see when you look at my Yasha?"

Hal was quiet for a long moment, his grip tightening on the pitchfork handle. When he spoke, his voice was soft but certain. "I see someone who deserves better than he's been given. Someone who... I am devoted to. Who makes those around him want to be better people."

Sarah made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sigh. "And what are you prepared to do about that?"

"Whatever I can." Hal straightened, meeting Sarah's gaze.

"Even if it costs you?" Sarah's voice sharpened. "Your position? Your family's approval?"

Hal's jaw worked for a moment. "I've learned that some things matter more than approval." His chin lifted slightly. "And your son is one of them. I am willing to make any sacrifice."

"Devotion," Sarah repeated, testing the word. "Is that what you call it?"

A flush crept up Hal's neck, but his voice remained steady. "I call it what it is. Jakob is... important to me. More important than is wise."

Sarah was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she reached out and touched Hal's arm. "Then perhaps you are a better man than I gave you credit for. I'm sorry for what I said at the school. I was angry, and not at you."

She turned toward the door, and Jakob barely had time to duck behind a hay bale before she emerged. He could have sworn she winked at him as she passed.

Jakob waited until her footsteps faded before slipping into the barn. Hal had returned to his work, his movements steady and sure.

"How long were you listening?" Hal asked without turning around.

Jakob grinned. "Long enough." He moved closer, reaching out to trace the line of Hal's shoulder. "Did you mean it?"

Hal turned, catching Jakob's hand and pulling him close. "Every word." He pressed his forehead to Jakob's, his breath warm against Jakob's lips. "It's you for me," Hal whispered. "As long as you'll have me."

"We should finish up here," Jakob said reluctantly. "Mama will have lunch ready soon."

They worked side by side for the rest of the morning, stealing glances and brief touches as they completed the barn chores. By the time they headed back to the cottage, the morning's tension had dissolved into something warmer, a tentative happiness that felt both fragile and precious.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of baking bread and the sound of Sarah humming as she set out lunch. Jakob stood at the washbasin by the window, scrubbing dirt from beneath his fingernails while Hal dried his face beside him.

"You missed a spot," Jakob said, reaching up to swipe at a smudge of dirt on Hal's cheekbone. "How do you manage to get filthier than me when I'm the one who grew up doing farm chores?"

Hal leaned into the touch, a smile playing at his lips. "Natural talent, I suppose."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Jakob handed him a clean towel. "Here. Try again."

Sarah glanced over at them, her expression softening. The tension that had hung between them since yesterday had eased completely, replaced by a cautious warmth. She turned back to the stove, stirring the pot there with rhythmic movements.

"Ten more minutes until lunch," she called over her shoulder. "Yasha, set the table, please."

The knock at the door cut through the domestic scene. Sarah's spoon stilled mid-stir.

"I'll get it," Jakob said, drying his hands on a dishcloth. He crossed to the door, pulling it open to reveal Royal Chamberlain Eklund standing on their worn doorstep.

The thin, silver-haired man seemed to take up more space than his slender frame warranted. His immaculate dark suit with the Order of the Polar Star pin on his lapel looked absurdly formal against the backdrop of the humble farmhouse. Behind him, a palace car waited on the dirt road, its driver standing at attention beside it.

"Cadet Eliasberg," Eklund said, his voice clipped and cold. "The Commandant requests your immediate presence at the academy. I have been instructed to escort you."