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“Not so fast.” At these words from the queen, everyone swivels to face her. “There’s still the matter of the throne to discuss. My husband, for better or for worse, promised me long ago that he would retire so that we could enjoy our golden years together, out of the spotlight. This family may be falling apart at the seams, but we still must discuss who will be crowned king. Or queen,” she adds, glancing at my sister Flora.
For her part, Flora swallows hard and looks over at her hero, big brother Torben.
“It won’t come to that,” he murmurs, resting an assuring hand on her shoulder.
“It might,” says the queen. “Unless we can find Sigurd.”
The third in line to the throne has been missing ever since Torben abdicated.
No one has seen or heard from him since.
Uther enters the salon again as if on cue, with the gamekeeper Callum Black trailing behind. Flora shoots them both a look, but only Uther looks apologetic. Callum is agitated, like a man ready for a fistfight.
The king is visibly bored. Hailey looks as if she regrets ever agreeing to marry into this family. The queen is exasperated.
“Major,” she sighs, addressing Uther. “I asked you to fetch my son. Sigurd is the tall one with the beard. This is the gamekeeper. You might be confused since they are best friends.”
“Pardon me, Your Majesty,” Uther says, bowing. Gods, evenIfind him attractive, and I’m as straight as a fucking ruler. “But I thought perhaps the gamekeeper could shed some light on where Sigurd might be located.”
The queen doesn’t look hopeful. “And Callum? Have you any ideas?”
“Last I saw, Sigurd was on a boat headed north to Frost Bay,” he says, looking regretfully at Flora. She shakes her head, and I understand now. Flora’s disappointed that the gamekeeper has given up our brother’s location. Most likely, Uther bullied it out of him.
The queen seems satisfied with this answer. “Ah. Then he’s probably at the family’s hunting retreat. Of course. That should have been the first place we looked. Uther? Good work. Callum? Please go fetch our son, and we’ll chat about his duties leading up to the coronation. We’d like this to take place as soon as possible.”
My mind does the math, but it doesn’t add up.
Flora speaks up, saying out loud what everyone is thinking. “But you said marriage was a condition of becoming the next monarch.”
“I did,” Father replies. “Lady Ilsa has promised the top student in the graduating class from her finishing school will be primed for the job of marrying the next king.”
My stomach churns. “You’re not going to betroth an 18-year-old girl to Sigurd. He’s 31! And he’s not willing, I can tell you that.”
“I was 18 and fresh from finishing school when I married your father,” the queen points out. “And he was twelve years my senior.”
Flora clucks. “Yes, Mother. But times have changed. And have you considered that maybe you’d have been happier if you hadn’t married the king? Perhaps if you’d married for love…”
The room goes silent as Flora’s words hang in the air.
Finally, the queen replies, “If I’d followed my silly teenage heart, I’d have married the sweaty gardener at my parent’s estate, and none of you would exist. As it stands, I love my family. Even the ones who have broken my heart.” Her gaze goes to Torben. She adds, “And the ones who have brought unseemly gossip on the family.” That’s clearly a dig at me.
This time, it’s Torben who speaks up. “It isn’t unseemly, and it isn’t gossip. If anything, I find my brother to be quite brave.”
Uther goes utterly crimson as the king mutters that the actual bravery in the room belongs to the man with all the naval medals.
Callum, having his orders, takes his leave.
Eventually, we reach an agreement with my father, and as we leave the palace, I have a sinking feeling that I may not be invited back, even after Kala and I return to royal family duties.
The papers will publish the paternity test results, and the palace will release a statement supporting my ongoing treatment. We’ll be allowed to continue to reside at Windewall Cottage. Kala and I will resume palace duties after Christmas, and the king’s decision to deny me the throne will stand.
Whatever rumors circulate regarding the king’s decision are out of our control. Eventually, maybe, they will die down.
One by one, we all trickle out of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Kala says as Uther drives us back to Windewall.
“For what, darling?”
