“I’m still convinced Astrid only agreed to be your temporary bodyguard because it gives her easy access to your brother.”
Agent Storme—Astrid—was heading up the investigation into anti-royalists until a month ago when Parliament voted to grant me special citizenship. While I don’t love knowing she isn’t at the forefront of that task force anymore, given the amount of evidence she and her team have been digging up about a whole underground ring of potential threats, I’m glad someone competent is looking after my new wife.
Wife. I love that word.
Freya sighs, tucking herself into my chest and relaxing in my hold. “I only wish she would stay. I like her.”
I chuckle and take hold of her hand, lacing our fingers together against my chest. “But you also like half a dozen of the new guard recruits, and some of them show a lot of promise.”
“Yes, because they are women.”
Her matter-of-fact tone makes me laugh again, and I am so glad that she came to find me. I wasn’t hiding from her, but she is almost always surrounded by nobility at these events, and now that I’m both her husband and king, I was surrounded too. Freya’s a lot better at faking civility with guys like the Duke of Rensvik than I am.
I would have much rather been on the other side of the room, where Hex and Sander were chatting and laughing with members of the House of Commons. That group is way less pretentious and the reason I can stand here with my wife in the first place.
Freya’s first executive act after reaching the six-month threshold of sitting on the throne was allowing women to join the palace guard, much to the delight of many female Candorans (and many of the current guards).
Her second proposal went toward fixing centuries of imbalance: introducing a Prime Minister, elected solely from the House of Commons, to oversee both Houses and work directly with the crown. Along with this reform, she proposed that the two Houses have equal voting weight. Any stalemates would be broken by the Prime Minister’s vote, while ultimate authority rested with the reigning monarch, who retained two votes.
I’m still not sure how she convinced the House of Lords to pass that one, but as of two weeks ago, Markham Grimstad is the new Prime Minister and bound to thrive in his new role, and Freya has a better chance of passing any reforms she thinks will benefit the people on both sides. Candora is changing.
Changing for the better.
I can’t wait to see what Freya does next.
“Will you tell me why you were hiding?” Freya asks, pulling her fingers free of mine so she can tickle her fingertips across my palm.
A shiver runs through me, a rush of desire that I try to ignore. “Can I say it’s because your mom has been giving me tips for being royalty all morning?”
“You can say it, but it doesn’t make it true.”
I hum and lock my fingers between hers again before she distracts me too much. She’s right; I love how much Ingrid is trying to help me figure out this new role after she all but convinced Freya to choose me. “Maybe I’m tired of Lady Falkheim poking me in the eye with that horrific feather in her hat.”
Freya snorts out a laugh. “The vulture feather? It is atrocious! But no, I do not accept that excuse.”
“I want to keep you all to myself.” That one’s true, but it won’t hold up as an excuse. I just want to say it.
She leans back, standing straight again as she narrows her eyes at me. “Elliot Reid Alverra, tell me why you are nervous, or I will go back out there and let Rensvik know that you are eager to work with him directly on all projects going forward.”
“Vitte, Rapunzel, you don’t play.” I wrinkle my nose, knowing if I don’t come clean, she’ll follow through with her threat. I don’t plan on getting too deep into the politics too soon, but Rensvik would hold me to Freya’s promise, no matter how long I wait to jump in. It’s not worth the risk. “Fine. I’m terrified.”
Freya tilts her head. “Of what?”
“Of messing up.” I brush my thumb across her jaw, marveling at her natural beauty. “Of doing something to hurt Candora. Of not being the man you need me to be.”
“Elliot.” Smiling softly, she presses her hand to my cheek.
This isn’t a new conversation, so I know what she’ll say. She’ll tell me that everyone is allowed to make mistakes as long as they own up to them and rectify them the best they can. She’ll tell me that she loves me no matter how many imperfections. She’ll tell me that I have time to learn.
She doesn’t tell me any of those things. “You think too highly of yourself.”
I blink. “What?”
With a shrug, she steps out of my hold and starts wandering the bathroom like it’s an art gallery, even though there’s not much to see. It’s abathroom. Sure, it’s a bathroom inside the biggest cathedral in Invem, but that doesn’t make it a marvel. “Exactly as I told you,” she says with an air of casualness. “You think too highly of yourself.”
“I think you’re missing the point here, Rapunzel. I’m having the opposite problem.”
“No.” She turns to me, head held high, shoulders back, eyes focused and intense. “You think you are so powerful and influential that anything you do can affect an entire country.”
