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Flora nods. “Unbeknownst to everyone but Father and Mother, Kala had been primed and groomed from day one to marry Torben. Sadly, some extremely wealthy families come from ancient traditions and raise their sons and daughters with the primary goal of marrying a monarch. Torben had no idea the poor girl was expecting a fiancé that day. Fortunately, Torben had his wits about him. He might have been screaming on the inside and feeling like dropping our father off the nearest cliff. And Kala’s father, for that matter. But outside, Torben was the perfect gentleman and diplomat. He went along with everything as if he had known about it from day one.”
My heart stops. “He married her?” I whisper.
Flora guffaws. “Oh, no, no, no, no! He would never. No, Torben went along with her presence there, and the fact that his birthday had turned into an engagement party. But later, he broke off the betrothal privately to save her the embarrassment. And fortunately, the press and social media could never confirm the betrothal. Only rumors. But there will always be rumors, sadly. Still, Torben was very shaken by all of it. He didn’t speak to our father for a year. Imagine going on official palace business with your father and not speaking to him for a year!”
Oh, I can imagine it. I didn’t speak to my father for over a year when he lived with me in a trailer. I fully buy the idea that Torben could freeze out the king.
“And ever since then, he never showed any interest in dating anyone for fear that the King and Queen would take the reins and try to manipulate the situation. Worse, make his dating a public affair. Torben swore he would never court someone under the public eye.”
So many more things about Torben make sense now. When we wrap up our tea, I thank the princess for her honesty, and now I wonder if I should feel guilty for letting her tell me all of that before giving Torben the opportunity.
But no wonder he’s all out of sorts. Knowing all of that, Kala’s visit can be no coincidence. The King is ambushing his son again.
And knowing that, I suddenly miss my home in West Virginia. I can deal with my family drama. Can I marry someone whose parents not only don’t want their son to marry me but will actively work against us?
I need to speak to Torben.
* * *
The hallways look dimmer and bleaker now, matching my mood as I traverse the halls, trying to remember the way to Torben’s rooms. My steps take me to a long hallway, which houses the staff quarters. I’ve somehow ended up on the third floor, and the family rooms are on the second floor. I go back the way I came, but when I think a vase or a statue looks familiar, I end up in a chapel or a billiard room.
I’m temporarily distracted when I walk past double doors that open into a massive library. I step inside and gawk at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves boasting untold numbers of books. Huh.
The stacks draw me in, and soon I’m curled up in a cozy chair by the window, where I sit with a book of crochet patterns. It helps to stare at pretty things when I’m trying to be brave and talk about something I don’t want to talk about.
Just then, I hear a low, gravelly voice echo from the other end of the library.
“If that were true, why would you bother warning me? Why not sit back and do nothing, like you always do?”
The person who answers is unfazed by the insult. “Because I wanted to be the first to see the look on my high and mighty big brother’s smug face when he finds out tomorrow’s announcement has been called off.”
Called off? It’s Etienne. And he’s talking about me.
I had assumed Etienne was a better person than Torben had earlier described. But I believe that about everyone until I know better. Ah, but maybe now I’m seeing his true colors.
“You’re drunk and spouting bullshit again. It’s not a good look,” Torben replies.
Etienne scoffs as if Torben should know better. “Ask him for yourself. Father won’t endorse your wedding. Just wait. That’s why ol’ Kala’s been hanging around. Don’t you get it? The king and queen will forbid you to marry Hailey and instead give you Kala as the consolation prize.”
“Our parents cannot forbid me or force me to do anything,” Torben answers, and if I didn’t know any better, I might confuse him with an angry bear. An angry bear who might have bitten off more than he can chew and is letting his family chew me up in the process.
The last words I hear before darting out of the library in angry tears are, “Brother, you might be the Favored Prince, but you are definitely the slowest.”
29
Torben
The king and queen’s scheduler informs me that my parents are visiting the new beer bottling facility.
I call for a car, then pace the driveway. They deliberately planned events in public today. They don’t want me to show up to make a scene when I find out the news. They always want me to sit and stew on an idea to get me used to it.
But I don’t care about public decorum anymore.
I find my parents idling with the brewer over a new strain of wheat or barley or something I could not care less about.
“Once the nuptials are underway, we’ll release the special commemorative bottle. With the renewed international interest in our tiny country, it should perform well.”
My mother adds, “I worry that customers will be upset about breaking things off with the American and stage a boycott.”
