Chapter 30

Jakob

The light-filled breakfast room is a masterpiece of architecture.

We are led here and seated ahead of the arrival of the king and queen.

One side is all glass opening into an aviary overlooking the back gardens. Birds of all colors flit and flicker from branch to branch amid an array of small trees in full spring bloom.

"It looks like something out of a fairy tale," Jo says. "Even the food."

The domed trays of food are interspersed with displays of breakfast pastries baked into fanciful shapes. It's something straight out of Victorian times.

"I wonder how many people they're expecting for breakfast," I say.

"Just the four of us, I'm afraid."

Whipping around in surprise, Jo and I find ourselves in the unexpected company of the king and queen, who are wandering in as casually as can be. I would have thought they'd be announced.

"Stasi and Sigurd are busy preparing for the wedding. Flora as well," the queen announces.

What is not said is where their other children might be. Of course everyone in the kingdom knows the king and queen aren't speaking to either Torben or Etienne. And they're not too thrilled with Sigurd, either. In their minds, he's forced them to carry out a wedding with a very obviously pregnant bride.

Queen Hilde's eyes are kind as she regards us.

"Welcome," she says. "Please have a seat. This is a casual breakfast, as you can see."

The silent, sullen king has already seated himself and is piling eggs and bacon onto his plate, not waiting for the servers to assist him. He doesn't look up at us, seeming way more interested in breakfast.

Jo and I share a look, then wait for the queen to sit as a server pulls out her chair. I help Jo in a similar fashion. I know what she's thinking: there's nothing casual about this. The delicate porcelain teacups and plates are vastly more formal and expensive than anything either of us have ever dined on.

"Thank you for having us, Your Majesty," Josie says with a respectful nod as she waits for her tea to be poured.

The queen smiles, her gaze shifting between me and Jo. "And where is Suzanna? The other wedding attendant I've heard so much about?"

I glance at Jo, who's busy buttering her toast. "I didn't realize Suzanna was coming as well. That's wonderful. But I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that."

"These weddings become more and more unorthodox these days, don't you think, Otto?" the queen says to her husband, who's busy shoving a chocolate croissant into his mouth. The king grunts in response.

"I suppose I'm getting less and less spontaneous in my old age," the queen continues.

Her tone is friendly and conversational, but I can't help but sense that there are volumes of subtext here. The main theme of that subtext is: the monarchs are not happy with how any of this played out.

Let's hope we can avoid any more surprises on her third son's wedding day.

Thank the gods, the conversation moves toward inquiries about my background in art and Jo's experience running a small supermarket. The questions feel genuine and disarming, and I remember quickly that the queen is beloved for this reason. She may be strict with her family, but she's genuinely kind with the public.

"Mirror Lake is quite pretty. I suppose when Sigurd first went missing, we should have checked there first. We didn't think we needed to, since that property was already rented out. Silly me."

I feel Jo's sideways glance. Both of us know perfectly well now how the pieces fit together. That we'd been delivering groceries to a missing prince all winter long without even realizing it.

Let's hope the queen doesn't figure that fact out before we wear out our welcome.

All of a sudden, a whirling dervish arrives. "Jakob! You little scamp!"

Apparently not noticing the king and queen sitting at the other end of the table, Suzanna sweeps into the room, large and in charge, wearing a blood-red silk floor-length duster that billows over a matching outfit underneath. She looks like a sci-fi villain.

Jo clears her throat, but Suz is too busy both hugging me and scolding me.

I glance over at the king and queen. The king doesn't seem all that bothered, being preoccupied with his breakfast. The queen seems frozen in place, her teacup poised halfway to her royal lips as she watches the spectacle that is Suzanna.

"I swear, what is in the water? Everyone disappears for months, and now they're all getting married? It's a good thing I love the royals, otherwise I'd declare all this engagement and marrying behavior quite boring and tiresome!" Suzanna exclaims.

"Suzanna—" I start, trying to help her save face.

Suzanna is not done ranting, however. "But I do love that Sable. Have you met her? Look what she made for me!"

Spinning around to show off her outfit, Suzanna finally registers who else is in the room with us.

"Oh my gods," she says, gasping, then curtseying. "Begging your pardon, Your Royal Majesties. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there."

The queen nods and sips her tea. "Three attempted royal weddings in one year is exhausting, indeed. I quite agree. Let's hope this one goes according to plan."

For the first time in her life, Suzanna's lip is buttoned tight.

I glance over at Jo and squeeze her hand. She seems relieved that the spotlight is off us for the moment.

The center holds. Let's hope it can hold until this wedding is over.