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“How did you get to the boat? How did you even know where I was?”
Flora swats the back of my head with her open hand. She can pack a punch like the rest of the Haart siblings, as my aching head testifies. “Ow! God, you’re brutal when you want to be.”
She ignores my comment and explains, “I’ll answer the second question first. The captain visited the palace this morning to report the missing yacht. No one fucks with the Frigge except the one who fucks with everything. That’s you,” she says, thrusting a finger at my ribs. “And secondly, Callum helped. He won’t talk.”
Callum the gamekeeper? She notices my confusion and jerks her head toward the shore.
I look out past the nose of the ship. By gods, someone is driving this vessel. I crane my neck to check the rear of the boat, where Callum’s fishing boat hops along behind us over the waves, tethered to the yacht’s stern.
I have so many questions. Why did she seek out Callum Black, of all people, to help retrieve me?
“Why not ask Uther for help?”
She shrugs. “Uther’s busy,” she sighs.
Whatever. I’m too hungover, depleted, and dreading my impending doom to ask more questions.
With the supplies Flora brought—a comb, deodorant, a clean undershirt, razor, and beard oil- I clean myself up in the mirror inside the Frigge’s main cabin.
I try not to gaze too deeply at my reflection.
I don’t particularly like the man who looks back at me.
He resembles my mother more than my father. But I’ve inherited none of her politeness or gravitas. My only stroke of luck in the gene pool is inheriting nothing from my father.
I’m just me.
Etienne the fuck up. The Bad Prince.
Scrubbing my beard and washing the oil off my hands, I mutter to myself. “Get ready to marry an asshole, Kala.”
“Not today, brother!”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to smile as my undefeated baby sister beams at me. “Even today.”
Flora takes my arm while Callum and the marina workers secure the boat to the dock.
The hour is early, yet a small clutch of photographers waits for us, along with the coast guard, the royal yacht’s captain, and the chief of police.
“What’s all this?” I ask Flora under my breath.
She doesn’t answer, but an official with the Gravenland Coast Guard steps forward, bows curtly, and pumps my hand. “Your Highness. Wonderful work you did, finding the Frigge and returning it to shore. And on your wedding day, no less,” he says.
The police chief proclaims, “If his royal highness ever fancies himself a detective, we’ll hire you on the spot.”
I look over at Callum, who’s ignoring me while he and the boat captain tie knots. Flora squeezes my arm and winks when I glance down at her.
“See? I told you. You’re not an asshole today.”
Then she turns to the assembled group and announces that time is of the essence.
“Now, if you don’t mind, we have a fretful bride out of her mind with worry. We’re off to the chapel to get this prince married.”
8
Kala
“For the love of the gods, smile with your eyes.”
