Page 82 of The Broken Dawn

Hal's lips curved despite himself. "Father was furious."

"But Mother smoothed it over," Sigrid finished. "Said it was Freddie showing confidence and ownership."

"He would have been a good king," Hal whispered, the words catching in his throat.

Sigrid's eyes, so like his own, studied him across the coffin. "And you? What kind of king will you be, Hal?"

The question was like a slap, waking him up. He'd never gotten far enough, in his grief-dazed thoughts, to even consider kingship. Hal's gaze dropped to the gleaming wood, unable to meet his sister's searching look. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know how to do any of this. Freddie made it look so easy."

"Freddie made everything look easy."

The candlelight caught the tears on Sigrid's cheeks. Hal pulled out his handkerchief and passed it to her, remembering how Freddie would always carry extras just for her.

"There's something else troubling you," Sigrid said, her voice gentle but knowing. "Something beyond the crown."

Hal's chest tightened. Here in the sacred quiet of the chapel, surrounded by centuries of royal tradition, the truth slipped out. "Jakob."

"Ah." Sigrid nodded, understanding immediately.

"Before, when I was just the spare, we'd thought maybe we'd enlist together. But now…" His voice trailed off. It all seemed like a dream, slipping away in the harsh dawn light of his new responsibilities; quiet evenings in the townhouse, a life together built in the shadows where no one would look too closely.

"But now I'm expected to leave everything behind so that I can marry, produce heirs, be the Crown Prince." The words tasted bitter on his tongue. "And yet—" He broke off, struggling to articulate the feeling that had been growing inside him since he'd left Riddarhuset.

"And yet?" Sigrid prompted gently.

"I've found something at Riddarhuset. Someone who..." He struggled for words that would convey everything without saying anything directly. "I can't imagine my life without him in it, Sisi. The thought of having to pretend he doesn't matter, of having to choose duty over—" He stopped, unable to finish.

Over love, his heart whispered. Over the only person who's ever made me feel whole.

The chapel door opened again, cutting off her words. Both siblings turned, expecting a palace guard or perhaps one of the clergy.

Instead, Christian stood in the doorway, his face a careful mask. He wore his formal uniform, every button gleaming, every detail exact. Only the shadows under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

For a moment, no one moved. Christian remained frozen at the threshold, as if uncertain of his welcome. Sigrid glanced at Hal, then back at their cousin.

"Christian," she said finally, breaking the tense silence. "Come in."

Christian stepped into the chapel, the door closing behind him with a soft thud that seemed to echo in the stillness. He moved to the foot of the coffin, completing their triangle around Freddie's body.

"I didn't expect to find you both here," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

"He's our brother." Sigrid said, a flash of the old fire returning to her eyes.

Christian flinched slightly at the emphasis on our—the subtle reminder that he stood outside their circle of grief. But he nodded, his gaze dropping to the coffin.

"He was..." Christian began, then stopped, seeming to search for words. "He was the best of all of us. Of the whole family, really."

Hal studied his cousin's face, looking for the calculation, the angle, the hidden agenda that always seemed to lurk behind Christian's words. But all he saw was exhaustion and something that looked surprisingly like genuine grief.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, years of anger, of unspoken resentments and rivalries making the air feel thick. Hal found himself thinking of that summer when he was twelve, when Christian had first come to live with them after Uncle Georg's death. How Freddie had suddenly seemed to grow up overnight, abandoning their childhood games to spend time with Christian instead. How the door to Freddie's room, always open to Hal before, had started to close more often.

"I used to think you stole him from me," Hal said suddenly, the words escaping before he could stop them.

Christian's head snapped up, surprise flashing across his face. "What?"

"Freddie." Hal's throat felt tight. "When you came to live with us. Before that, we were always together, the three of us." He glanced at Sigrid. "Then suddenly it was you and him, and I was just the baby brother, too young to join in."

Christian's expression shifted, something almost vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "I didn't steal him," he said quietly. "I needed him."