Chapter 11

Flora

Uther has gotten too good at anticipating my evasive maneuvers.

But I need to talk to Callum. My conversation with Mother did not go well. She made it clear that she believes Callum has “designs” on me.

That phrasing is disgusting to me.

“Callum is anything but a manipulator. He’s a great friend. I think you ought to get to know him better.”

“Why?” Mother asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I chickened out. There was too much at stake for me, for Callum, and possibly for Mr. Black.

“Because he’s going to be the gamekeeper one day and besides that, he’s Sigurd’s best friend. Mother, I think you should accept that some commoners make our family better.”

Mother exploded. “Do you have some sort of schoolgirl crush on this boy?”

“Boy, Mother? We’re the same age! And…no.”

Oh gods. I could hear Callum clucking like a chicken in my mind. I felt so low that I don’t recall the rest of the conversation with Mother.

A week has passed since that side conversation in the garden with the queen.

Tonight, I wait until the security detail’s shift changes and Uther goes to dinner.

I don’t think twice about it. I don’t put on my running gear. I simply go to him.

When I arrive at the cottage in the woods, I find Callum on his bed, his legs drawn in with his arms around his knees.

“Whoa,” I laugh as I hover in the bedroom doorway. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer, only lifts his face. He’s pale.

“Are you sick? Where’s your dad?”

“He’s gone.”

Gone? No, that can’t be. Mr. Black would never abandon Callum. He can be gruff at times but he loves his son fiercely.

I run to Callum, positioning myself before him on the bed.

“Callum, what happened? What’s going on? Is he hurt? Is it his heart?”

He looks right through me, pale and weary.

“He’s dead.”

Shocked, I grab hold of his knees. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come sooner.”

He shakes his head. “It happened last night. I didn’t want to trouble you.”

I want to shake him, scold him for thinking he could ever be trouble in my eyes. But now is not the time. He needs me.

“And today, when I was looking for his funeral suit,” Callum says, “I found this letter he left for me in the pocket.”

He hands it to me, and I read it.

“Dear Callum,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve passed on. There’s no way to tell you this gently, so I’ll just say it: I know about you and the princess. I see how you look at her and how she looks at you. It’s the same as it was between your mother and me. I never remarried after she died because she was the best, and there could never be a replacement. Everyone said we were too young to marry but we didn’t listen. We simply lived our lives, and that’s what I want for you. When you find your treasure, do not hesitate to act. You have your entire life ahead of you; don’t waste another year.”

Just like his son, Mr. Black always had a way with words.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “But what a beautiful letter.”

“It does me no good without the treasure,” he says, forlorn.

“What treasure?” I ask, bewildered by this turn.

“You know which one,” Callum says, gesturing to the oversized ring on my middle finger.

Callum rises from the bed and starts to lace his hiking boots.

Oh dear.

“Oh, Callum,” I squeak, barely able to get out words around the lump in my throat. “I don’t think…”

I trail off, but he’s way ahead of me, putting on his shoes, and bolting out the door.

“He said not to waste time,” he says, heading down the trail that leads to the cave we explored once as kids.

“Wait, Callum! I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

But Callum is determined, and he’s way ahead of me.