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“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Nicole murmured, feeling slightly overwhelmed. It was odd how the man beside her had been raised in such finery but was still humble. It was so far different from her own family’s meal that it seemed to be in a different realm entirely.
“Nicole,” King Albert began, once they were all seated, “I trust our traditions are not too daunting? You are among friends here, even if the setting might suggest otherwise.”
“Your Highness, it’s certainly different from what I’m accustomed to,” Nicole admitted, offering a smile to convey her appreciation. “But it’s a difference I am willing to embrace.”
“It is wonderful to have new people to share our meal with. You and Amanda have made our sons better versions of themselves,” King Albert said, raising his glass in a subtle toast before taking a sip.
“Let us hope that change continues to bring us closer together,” Theodore added. As nervous as she was about eating with his family, he was glad she didn’t know what he planned for after the meal.
As the first course arrived, conversation flowed around Nicole like a river, sometimes inclusive, other times leaving her on the outskirts as topics turned to matters of state and protocol. Yet, she felt a certain rightness in being there.
“Tell me, Nicole,” Princess Eloise asked, drawing her back into the fold. “How are your family’s Theron Day traditions different from our own?”
Nicole paused, considering her words carefully. “For my family, it tends to be all about the meal. We had turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and so many other things. Truly, it’s my favorite meal of the entire year.” She glanced at Eloise. “What did we miss here?”
Eloise sighed. “Oh, we all went out on the balcony of the palace and waved as the parade wound its way past, just as we do every year. Normally I don’t mind but this year something felt a bit off. Maybe I’m jealous that my brothers both seem to have found love, and I’m lagging behind.”
“You’ll find love soon enough,” Amanda said softly, her hand resting upon her small baby bump, a gesture not lost on Nicole.
Nicole glanced at Amanda. “How are you feeling, Amanda? Is everything... all right with the baby now?”
Amanda’s eyes softened, a tender smile curving her lips as she nodded. “Yes, thank goodness. The doctor has given us the all-clear. It was a frightening time, but we are out of danger now.” She patted her belly, where the heir to Theron’s throne lay nestled. “Little one is quite the fighter.”
“Love and family,” King Albert said, nodding sagely. “That is the true heart of any tradition.”
As the meal progressed, Nicole’s initial trepidation melted away under the steady warmth of acceptance. It was clear that the royal family valued loyalty and duty, but also the bonds that held them together. And as she dined on dishes she’d only read about in books, Nicole realized that she was slowly becoming more and more familiar with this family and how they did things.
“Christopher’s machinations, while alarming, have at least been stymied,” King Albert said, his voice reverberating with authority as he initiated the evening’s more somber conversation. “Justice will be served. Treason cannot—and will not—be tolerated.”
Nicole listened intently, her fork poised mid-air, as she absorbed the gravity of the situation through the words of the king. Around her, the others nodded in solemn agreement, their expressions a blend of relief and residual concern.
“Yes, Father,” Theodore concurred, his tone mirroring the king’s unwavering commitment to duty. “The full weight of the law must be applied. It is imperative for the stability of Theron and that of our family.”
“Stability and safety,” Queen Beatrice added softly, “which we must always safeguard, for our people and for our future.” She glanced toward Amanda, whose hand once again rested protectively over her belly—a silent yet potent symbol of the legacy they all fought to protect.
As the dishes were presented and the conversation ebbed and flowed around her, Nicole’s thoughts turned inward. She was surprised at just how similar her family was to the royal family of Theron. They both prized loyalty and love above all things.
“Nicole, you’ve been quiet,” Princess Eloise observed kindly, drawing her back into the present. “What are your thoughts on these matters?”
Caught off guard, Nicole swallowed her mouthful and sought the right words. “It’s heartening to see that justice is taken so seriously here. Where I come from, we may not wear crowns, but integrity is important. The marquis had no integrity.”
“Spoken like a true member of the family,” Prince James remarked with a warm smile, raising his glass slightly in her direction.
As the meal progressed, and the talk of Christopher’s fate turned to discussions of the realm’s prosperity, Nicole allowed herself to savor not just the food but the feeling of inclusion.
Through it all, Theodore’s presence beside her was a constant reassurance, the occasional brush of his hand against hers beneath the table a secret promise of things unsaid.
The echoes of silverware and crystal had faded into silence as they ascended the grand staircase, its carpet a deeper red than the blush that lingered on Nicole’s cheeks. Yet it was not the opulence that set her heart adrift but the anticipation of what lay beyond the door Theodore now unlocked.
“Welcome to my truest kingdom,” he said with a mirthful glint in his eyes, pushing open the heavy oak door to reveal the sanctuary beyond.
Nicole stepped into the studio, a vaulted space where the walls surrendered themselves to canvases and dreams made visible. Her gaze was drawn immediately to an easel standing proudly by the window, bathed in lunar light, a half-finished portrait gazing back at her.
“Is that...?” Nicole began, her heart recognizing the strokes that captured her own visage.
“One of them,” Theodore affirmed, closing the door behind them with a soft click. “It was here, amid these brushes and colors, that I first saw you—not in flesh and blood, but through the yearning of my soul made manifest upon the canvas.”
She approached the painting, her steps tentative as if the floor might give way to the gravity of the moment. Theodore watched her, a sentinel of longing, his hands clasped behind his back. “I still don’t understand how you painted me before we even met.”
