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Chapter 10

Callum

Four years later

I’ve done it. I’ve made something of myself.

When Sigurd and I enlisted in the Royal Infantry four years ago, I had a plan. I would serve my country with honor, become a ranger, and collect awards and achievements along the way.

Today, at our homecoming celebration in the palace gardens, Sigurd and I stand side by side in front of the king to receive our accolades.

Our chests decorated with medals, the king adds one more to mine: the Golden Lark of Gravenland, based on the beloved national bird. It means I’ve been given an honorary title, putting me on equal footing with the kingdom’s nobility.

I’ve done it. Now, Flora and I can live our lives out in the open.

Scanning the gardens for the princess, I feel ready to burst. She had a royal engagement at her chosen charity this morning, and she’s supposed to arrive at the party any minute now.

Over the last four years, Flora and I have had to sustain our relationship over text, email, and quick phone calls. Her public service as a princess has been intense and rigorous.

That comes as no surprise to either of us. Torben, the oldest prince, set a standard of excellence in public duties that neither Etienne nor Sigurd could match. Etienne, because he had no will or desire to. As for Sigurd, the man simply wasn’t built for shaking hands with strangers, sitting still for press interviews, or having tea with dignitaries. The man was simply not built for all the trappings of royalty, which is why the king never made too much of a fuss about him spending so much time with me and my father growing up.

So, it’s been a long road without a reliably working royal, and now the nation’s eyes are on Flora.

And she’s absolutely crushing it. Though I’m sad we had to spend so much time apart, I’ve loved watching her bloom in the public eye.

On the physical level, we’ve maintained the same level of intimacy. Whenever I was home on leave from the infantry, our secret meetups were brief. At the same time, we’ve grown closer due to all the talking.

But now, I’m ready to see her.

More than ready.

Where the hell is she?

“Relax,” Torben says, noticing how jumpy I am at this stuffy garden party. He claps me on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to enjoy your homecoming. You look more tense than Sigurd in a garden full of diplomats.”

“I heard that,” grunts Sigurd, butting in to receive a congratulatory hug from his oldest brother.

“There you are!”

The joyful, squawking voice pierces my ears and my heart at the same time.

The flowing scarf around Flora’s neck that matches her yellow day dress flies behind her as she runs toward Sigurd and me in a full sprint. Her skin is tanned and her feet are bare. She carries a pair of matching high heels in one hands. The image will be forever burned into my brain, and I feel nostalgic for the unmitigated, childlike joy we had as kids when we’d get into all sorts of adventures.

I’m going to marry that girl. As soon as possible.

To my surprise, Flora leaps into my arms in front of all these fine and proper guests. In front of her siblings, the queen, the king, and everyone.

At the same time, she reaches out for Sigurd, who mutters a curse as he brings it in for a group hug. She hooks one arm around his neck.

“You knuckleheads better be home for good this time,” she chides.

“No promises, especially if you keep making me give hugs,” Sigurd says, though I’m not buying his grumpy attitude for a second.

All around us, guests are chuckling at this display of affection. But I don’t care. My heart is so full; This is my moment. I will declare our love out loud, to the gods and everyone.

“Flora.”

The icy voice comes from directly behind me.

Flora’s body stiffens, and she pulls away. I set her feet on the ground, and watch in agony as she puts distance between us.

She curtseys to the queen. “Mother. Good morning.”

“Let’s walk,” the queen says, glancing from Flora to me to Sigurd, then back at Flora. She lifts one regal eyebrow as she looks down at Flora’s feet. “With shoes on, preferably.”

Flora glances at me but quickly looks away, public shame changing her demeanor.

Sigurd and I watch her go, but of the two of us, I’m the only one who feels awful right now.

“You’d think the queen would be used to how her daughter behaves when she’s excited to see her friends,” Sigurd says.

“I think the queen has deeper concerns than decorum,” I say, watching Sigurd carefully.

His face is clueless. “What do you mean?”

I shake my head. “Nevermind. Let’s get drunk.”

As if summoned by a magic word, Etienne appears with two open bottles of Dom Perignon. “You read my mind, mate.”

He hands me one of the bottles, and I take a long swig.

So, today is not the day that Flora and I come clean to the royal family.

As the three Haart brothers and I move our party of four up the hill and away from all the refined, upstanding nobility, a chill runs down my spine. Someone is staring.

I turn and spot King Otto standing near my father. Flora’s father and I make eye contact for barely a second before he turns his stiffly smiling gaze back to my father, who is no doubt spinning a yarn.

I feel the full intended effect.

The king is letting me know he saw how his little girl hugged me, and he disapproves.

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