Page 74 of The Broken Dawn

"I'll convey Your Majesty's regards," Jakob replied, his voice steady despite the rage and fear coursing through him.

As the door closed behind him, Jakob stood frozen in the hallway, his heart hammering against his ribs. The Queen's words echoed in his mind: his mother in silk and dignity, Rachel safe and educated, himself finally belonging somewhere that valued what he could offer.

All of it real. All of it possible. All of it his, if he could just walk away from Hal.

But then he thought of gentle hands smoothing his hair in the dark, of whispered promises and fierce protection. Of someone who looked at a Jewish refugee and saw not a liability to be managed, but a man worth loving. Worth fighting for.

The Queen had offered him everything his family had lost. But Hal had given him something they'd never had—the belief that he was enough, exactly as he was.

Jakob closed his eyes, feeling the weight of three lives in his hands. His mother's dignity. Rachel's future. His own dreams of belonging.

Then he opened them, his decision crystallizing with terrifying clarity.

It was the most reckless gamble of his life. He was about to bet everything—their safety, their future, their very survival—on a prince who'd never had to fight for anything in his life. On love that had existed in stolen moments and whispered conversations. On the hope that when it mattered most, Hal wouldn't let them fall.

Chapter 13

November 19, 1939

“There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

Professor Tolkien's words blurred before Hal's eyes as his mind drifted to Jakob for the hundredth time since morning. The royal chamberlain's arrival at the Eliasberg farm yesterday had sent ice through his veins. Eklund never left the palace except on the direct orders of the King or Queen, and Hal knew with sickening certainty that it wasn't his father who had sent for Jakob.

He'd spent the day in this alcove, unable to focus, jumping at every sound. He'd reread The Hobbit in that time, coming again to the death of Thorin at the end, and had no idea what he'd do to keep himself from coming apart once he'd finished the book. The electric wall sconce cast harsh shadows across the pages as he checked his pocket watch again. A whole day since Jakob had been summoned. A whole day with no word.

The soft scuff of boots against the library's wooden floor made him look up sharply. Jakob appeared at the entrance to the alcove, in his cadet uniform, though it hung on him differently now—as if the fabric itself had absorbed whatever weight now pressed on his shoulders. His eyes, usually bright with challenge or mischief, looked hollowed out.

"Jakob," Hal whispered, relief and dread warring in his chest. He stood so quickly he knocked his book to the floor, forgotten.

"I'm so sorry." Jakob said, quietly. "I couldn't get away before now." He stepped into the alcove, glancing behind him to assure they were alone, before coming close to Hal. "Your mother," he said, voice flat. "She was waiting for me in the Commandant's office."

Hal felt the blood drain from his face. "My mother came here? In person?"

"She was sitting behind the Commandant's desk like she owned the place." Jakob's laugh held no humor. "Which I suppose she does, in a way."

"What did she want?" Hal asked, though the sinking feeling in his stomach told him he already knew.

Jakob moved to the window, keeping his back to Hal. "She wanted me to go away. First, she offered me a position at the Soviet General Staff College in Moscow. A 'distinguished opportunity' for someone of my 'background' and 'tactical acumen.'" His fingers tightened on the windowsill. "It would, of course, come with a generous financial settlement to make the move easier, and support for my mother and sister if they wished to join me. As long as we all left, immediately."

"Moscow?" Hal repeated, the word tasting like ash. "That's—that's exile."

"That was the point." Jakob turned, his composure cracking. "It was exile, but it was also temptation. She drew a picture of my mother back in silk dresses, speaking French at faculty dinners like she used to. Rachel at university instead of scrubbing floors. Our entire life restored to what we were before. All I had to do to have that was to disappear from your life permanently."

Hal's legs threatened to give way. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. "She can't do this. She has no authority⁠—"

"And if I refused? She'd destroy us. My mother's job, gone. Rachel's reputation ruined — whispers about the Jewish girl who compromised a prince. No work, no home, probably thrown out of Sweden entirely." Jakob's voice shook. "For now, the Commandant and the Royal Family have made it clear that they wanted to keep what happened between Rachel and Christian quiet. Your mother made it very clear that would change if I refused her 'generous offer.'"

"I'll speak to her," Hal said, anger rising hot in his chest. "I'll go to my father⁠—"

"And say what?" Jakob stepped closer, his eyes fierce now. "That you want him to defend your male, Jewish lover from his wife's schemes? That you're choosing me over your duty to Sweden? Over the succession?"

"If I have to, yes!" Hal's hands clenched into fists.

"No." Jakob caught Hal's wrists, his grip gentle but firm. "Listen to me. If you confront her, you'll only confirm everything she suspects. She'll use it against you—against us both. She'll make sure we never see each other again."

Hal pulled back, heart hammering against his ribs. "You can't possibly expect me to just give in to this. Let her win." The words scraped his throat raw as he fought to keep his voice down. He searched Jakob's face, looking for some sign that his world wasn't shattering. "I can't lose you. I won't." His voice cracked. "This might seem like just another game of strategy and tactics to her, but it's my life. Our lives."

"You won't lose me, I promise you that. I chose you. I chose us. What we are together," Jakob murmured, his hands sliding up to cup Hal's face. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Hal's. "We're smarter than she is. We just need to think like tacticians, not like scared boys."