Page 78 of The Broken Dawn

"Your Royal Highness," Eklund said again, bowing deeply this time. His voice was hollow, stripped of its usual precise formality. When he straightened, his pale eyes were red-rimmed. "I regret that I come bearing the gravest news."

The commandant stepped forward. "Please, sit down, Your Royal Highness."

Hal remained standing. "Tell me what happened to my brother." He knew, he'd known since the Chamberlain had addressed him — the style of Your Royal Highness was reserved only for the King, the Queen, and the Heir Presumptive.

Eklund and the commandant exchanged glances. Christian moved to stand beside Hal, their shoulders nearly touching—a gesture of solidarity that was welcome but surreal given their usual antagonism.

"There was an accident this morning," Eklund said, each word measured and heavy. "Crown Prince Karl Frederick was sailing in the archipelago yesterday morning." What time? Hal wondered. Was he doing the milking when it happened? Laughing as he and Jakob walked the grounds together? Bending over a textbook in one of his interminable lectures as his brother had breathed his last?

"A sudden squall came through." The Chamberlain continued, unable to look Hal in the face. "There were high winds, driving rains. His boat capsized in the storm." He paused, swallowing visibly. "His Royal Highness was trapped beneath the hull. By the time the rescue party reached him..."

The words hung in the air, clinical and impossible.

"No," Hal said, the word escaping before he could stop it. "No, that's not—Freddie is a naval officer, an excellent sailor… excellent swimmer. He couldn't⁠—"

"The weather turned with extraordinary speed," the commandant said quietly. "Even the most experienced sailors were caught off guard. There was nothing His Royal Highness could have done."

Hal felt Christian's hand on his arm, steadying him. The room seemed to tilt and spin, reality fracturing around the edges. Freddie in the water, Freddie trapped, Freddie struggling to breathe—the images crashed through his mind in horrifying succession.

"The King requires your immediate presence at the palace," Eklund continued, his voice softening slightly. "I have a car here for you. We must depart immediately

"The King," Hal repeated numbly. "My father—how is he?"

Something flickered across Eklund's face—concern, perhaps, or pity. "His Majesty is... bearing up. The Queen is with him."

Christian's grip on Hal's arm tightened fractionally. They both knew what that meant. Queen Margreta would be managing everything, as always—including the King's grief.

"I need to pack my things," Hal said, the words coming automatically. "And I need to—" He stopped, thinking of Jakob waiting in the corridor outside his room. Jakob, who had no idea that everything was about to change.

"There's no time," Eklund said. "The palace has sent appropriate attire. We must leave immediately."

"Mr. Vasa will accompany you, of course," the commandant added, nodding to Christian.

"Of course," Eklund agreed, though something in his tone suggested this was an inconvenience rather than a courtesy. "The car is waiting."

Hal felt as though he were moving underwater, every gesture requiring enormous effort. He nodded mechanically, unable to form words.

"May I have a moment?" he finally managed. "Just to... I need to tell someone I'm leaving."

Eklund's lips thinned. "Your Highness, I must insist⁠—"

"One minute," Christian interrupted, surprising everyone. "Surely we can spare one minute for the Crown Prince to say his goodbyes."

The title hit Hal like a physical blow. Crown Prince. That was who he was now. Who he would be forever, until he became something even more impossible—King.

Eklund hesitated, then nodded curtly. "The car is waiting at the front entrance. Do not delay, Your Royal Highness."

They stepped out of the commandant's office into the anteroom, and Hal's heart lurched. There, pacing the small space, was Jakob—his dark hair wild as though he'd been running his hands through it. He looked up as they emerged, his expression shifting from worry to alarm as he took in their solemn faces.

"Hal?" he said, stepping forward. Then his eyes caught on Eklund, on the formal black suit and the grim expression, and understanding dawned. "Oh God. Freddie?"

Hal nodded, unable to speak. Behind him, he felt rather than saw Christian and Eklund retreat a few steps, the Chamberlain's impatience radiating like heat.

"I have to go to Stockholm," Hal said, his voice cracking. "Right now. I can't—there's no time.."

Jakob nodded, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears. "I understand." And Hal knew he did—understood not just about Freddie, but about what this meant for them, for whatever had been growing between them.

"I'll come back," Hal said, the words spilling out in a desperate rush. "As soon as I can. Please... wait for me? Don't go anywhere until I can say goodbye."