Chapter 17

Flora

To say that Daddy is on a rampage is an understatement.

“Never in my long life have I witnessed such a scene.”

The boys are getting a thorough dressing down at Torben’s birthday breakfast.

As for me, I’m alternating between texting with Callum and knitting his sweater. I’m fourth in the line of succession, so none of this shouting is aimed at me, thank the gods. Besides, I almost died, and I’m still recovering.

Kind of. Mainly, I’m still feeling the twinge between my legs from what Callum and I did last night. Or this morning. So no, I didn’t die, but I might have seen heaven.

They’re arguing about Etienne’s whereabouts, which takes everything up a notch. Etienne has a way of making everything fall apart, even when he’s not here.

I jump when my father’s fist hits the table, smashing an espresso cup into pieces.

“You’re supposed to be watching him!” Father shouts at Torben.

“I’ll add ‘babysitting’ to my daily agenda. Tell me, Father, is that before or after my meeting with the French minister of foreign trade?”

I have to hand it to my oldest brother. For Mister Walks-On-Water, he’s finally starting to rebel. I love to see it.

Daddy gets up in his face with more spluttering and shouting. Meanwhile, Mother is trying to calm everyone down.

I’d love to pop some popcorn, but I’d love to stay under the radar more. However, the matter of kicking us children out of the palace comes up, and now everyone has my undivided attention.

“You forced all of us—your adult children—to move back into the palace, and now you’re kicking us out again? Where to this time, Father? Should we go to the squalid hunting cabin?”

Torben snorts.

“It’s not squalid,” Sig harrumphs.

“Not to you, the man with tree moss in his beard,” Torben taunts.

“Quit exaggerating,” Sigurd says.

The eldest brother plucks something green out of Sigurd’s beard.

“Spinach. Actually…yeah… that’s moss,” Sigurd says sheepishly.

And then, he eats it.

I gag loudly as everyone groans.

“You might consider using a fork and spoon next time,” I tease.

I turn my attention back to my phone and relay the whole story to Callum, who replies with a laughing emoji.

He’s getting pretty good at texting.

And now everyone’s mood has taken a darker turn because Etienne has finally arrived, likely with insults chambered for everyone but me.

Fortunately, he stuffs pastries into his mouth before letting loose too many of those insults.

I smile happily as I bind off the sweater sleeve and look at Etienne.

“Father was about to tell us his plan to drown us in Frost Bay, I think.”

A half-eaten Danish protrudes from his lips. “He wha’?”

I have to laugh.

Our father the king cuts our mirth short by informing us, as usual, that this family is out of control. The boys argue again, and the king snaps.

When I startle at the noise, my needles fall to the floor. Torben catches my eye and looks as white as a sheet.

I know he’s still freaking out about my brush with death. And I know because though we snipe at each other, he’s an excellent big brother and he beats himself up for me almost getting mortally wounded.

I let him know, silently, that everything is going to be okay.

Of course, our oblivious father has to brush right past this brother-sister moment and bring up the matter of marriage.

“Since you cannot find a bride, your mother and I will find one for you. I’m getting on in years, and when I die—or possibly step down if I choose—the matter of heirs must be settled.”

It’s gross how obsessed these people are with weddings.

“If anything happens to you and you don’t have an heir…”

Yeah, I’ve heard this speech before. But this time, there are stakes involved. Father means to cut us all off if we don’t settle down and get married.

“Very well!” Torben exclaims, pushing his chair back and standing, throwing down his napkin. “I’ll choose a wife.”

Father laughs. “It’s well past time for you to choose. One has been chosen for you.”

All the siblings exchange looks as Mother explains that he is to marry the beer heiress, Kala.

Can I choke on my breakfast now, because I don’t want to be here for this.

Once again, my brother is showing us all that he’s grown a spine. To my great relief, he has convinced the king and queen that he will travel to America to find a wife.

He says something about preferring to go incognito, which is preposterous, given that he’ll be instantly recognizable anywhere he goes. Fortunately, Mother convinces him to let her help him make important connections in Washington, D.C.

That’s settled, then. Torben will be married off, and there won’t be any pressure on me to produce an heir.

Thank the gods.