Chapter 35

Jo

I just have to get through this press conference.

One foot in front of the other.

Although I still don't know why I'm even here.

I feel like an afterthought, in every way possible.

And still, Jakob's hand squeezes mine.

We walk into the plaza and straight toward the platform where the king and queen wait behind a line of bodyguards. Oddly, it seems they've hired extra men for this appearance.

"I'd like to speak to you, Your Majesties. It's critically important."

The king waves us off with a smile.

Jakob and I exchange looks.

Why does Jakob think the king will suddenly take responsibility when he's known all along and never has before?

Uther shoots us a warning look, effectively telling us to back off.

"Trust me," Jakob tries. "They're going to want to hear it from me. We may want to postpone the press conference altogether."

I squeeze Jakob's arm.

"You've done your best. It's time to let it go."

My husband is a mix of emotions.

"Whatever happens happens at this point, Jakob."

He surrenders, finally, as I guide him to the stage where Flora waits, beaming at Jakob.

As a rule, I'm not a fan of being on stage. I look out into the crowd, and I see no one I know there except Suzanna, whom I only just met this morning. So many people. So many strange faces. I do my best to keep my face placid, focusing on the princess's very gracious speech in which she thanks Jakob for his bravery. People chuckle as she reaches for him to place the medal around his neck; he has to squat down for her to do it.

Jakob bows to the princess, bows to the king and queen, then digs something out of his pocket. The princess freezes in surprise when she sees what he holds in his hand.

"I believe you dropped this, Your Highness."

Looking out on the crowd, I know that the audience loves Jakob. I can see that already. He didn't need a media coach. Everyone can see how adorably shy, sweet, and humble he is.

My Jakob. But he's not mine any longer. Not as soon as the news gets out about who he might be.

The princess fixes her face heroically, but from this angle, I can tell some deep emotions are related to that ring. A ring that I never even laid eyes on. He told me he sold the ring. Why did he tell me he sold the ring?

And now this ring she dropped is all part of a new family lore, one that I feel less and less a part of the longer I stay near these people.

Amidst the clapping and cheering, the gaggle of reporters off to the right seem engaged in something else entirely. Some are taking phone calls, others are conferring with each other heatedly, and still others are scrolling on their phones. I hear muttered curses, guffaws, and people raising their hands. They're all jockeying for position.

Nancy, who's handling the media, is not prepared to shut this down. She is a lamb being led to the slaughter.

Doug has made it clear to the press that there won't be any questions at this event. But we're about to receive some anyway.

A reporter I recognize from a particularly splashy American news outlet shouts over top of everyone's heads, "Your Majesty, any response to the claim that Jakob Sterling is actually your son by a former mistress?"

The crowd is stunned. Hell, I already knew this was coming, and I'm stunned.

Holding Jakob's hand, I glance over at the king and queen. They show no reaction whatsoever.

And then, the queen stands up, waves to her subjects, and strides off the stage, with the princess and Uther not far behind.

All eyes are now on the king, and so is every camera.

The king stands, and a hush falls over the crowd. Jakob and the king lock eyes.

I remember just a few days ago when my life was free of drama. Boring, even.

It's not likely to be ever again, thanks to the man who sits on the throne.

I squeeze Jakob's hand, reminding him I'm still here. He squeezes back. We wait for—what, exactly? A word from the king? Acknowledgment? Denial? A nod?

The king's face pales, as if he had seen a ghost from his past.

After a beat, he winces in pain.

Before I can register what's happening, the king is gripping his chest.

People in the crowd lurch forward.

The king's knees buckle, and he collapses onto the carpeted stage, the commotion rippling out over the crowd in waves.

Gasps of shock fill the air as the palace staff and attendees rush to the king's side.

The queen and the princess, who are waiting by the royal motorcade, realize what's happening, fear taking hold.

"Someone call for an ambulance!" the princess shouts as people begin trying to reach for the king. The bodyguards form a circle of protection around the king, allowing the queen, Princess Flora, and Torben to enter the circle.

Everywhere outside the circle is chaos.

Reporters elbow each other to reach Jakob.

Uther takes charge, issuing orders to clear the area.

An ambulance siren screams into the plaza, and the medical team rushes in.

So much is happening all at once, I barely remember being rushed away into the royal motorcade, away from the scene.

I've seen a man his age collapse like that before. It's happened more than once at my little supermarket in the village.

Our king has just had a massive heart attack.