“I really wish you would call me Markham, Your Highness.” Grimstad holds up a hand when she scowls at him, so at least he’s smart enough to know he’s going against the request she made last night. “We don’t have to be friends, but I don’t like the formality between us. Please.”
Freya seems to debate for a moment before she sighs and nods. “Very well.”
“You’ll still address her as Your Highness unless she says otherwise,” I throw in, though I really want to tell him that the likelihood of Freya being around him often enough to even use his name is slim to none. “Even then, I recommend you stick to her title.”
Hex snorts into his food.
Am I aware that I rarely called Freya by her title even when she ordered me to? Yes. But we’re past that now, so it’s fine.
Grimstad, unflappable as ever, dips his head at me. “Of course. You were saying, Your Highness?”
Though I’m pretty sure Freya is resisting the urge to roll her eyes at me, mostly her expression is calm and confident. But even with her focus on Grimstad, her hand finds mine under the table and wraps around my clenched fist. It’s only there for a moment before it returns to her lap. “Markham, aside from visiting old friends, I assume you are here to study the people of Havenford for your campaign.”
“You have found me out. It gets harder to visit as life gets busier, so I thought it would be a good idea to refresh my memory on the way of life here. The rest of Candora could use some of their beliefs, as I’m sure you know.”
Freya tilts her head to the side. “Does that make us united in this regard?”
“I suppose it does, but that’s only one of many parts of my platform.”
“Not a small part, I would imagine.”
I want to pay attention to their conversation, even if I don’t fully understand it, but my focus is stuck on my hand and the way my muscles relaxed at her touch. She only held my hand for a second or two, but my tension practically melted away when she did. It was like she was telling me with that touch that I can relax, and though my mind disagreed, my body immediately understood. The same thing happened with Hex earlier, and I’m not sure anyone has ever had such a visceral effect on me like these Alverras have.
“Obviously, it doesn’t work on a country-wide scale,” Grimstad says, pulling my attention back up. “Much as I wish we did, we don’t have the natural resources to make sure every single citizen has everything they could ask for without money being involved.”
“Nor can that many people change their way of life so thoroughly to be entirely selfless,” Freya replies. “Not without some making significant sacrifices.”
“Those with the most to give are unlikely to part with what they have.”
Freya winces. “Unfortunately, I agree with you on that. But if we could implement even a portion of Havenford’s ideals, Candora would thrive.”
We? I glance at Sander, whose eyes are narrowed as he looks from his sister to her opponent as they go back and forth. Freya is more enthusiastic right now than I expected her to be, and Grimstad has a similar look of excitement in his eyes. I think they’re talking about expanding this whole “trade what we have and take care of each other” mentality that the people of Havenford seem to have, but that’s not how most people work. People are selfish. They look out for themselves and, if they’re decent, use what extra they have to help their friends and family. They don’t trade food for kisses because kisses don’t buy shelter and clothing for their families.
In my experience, the most giving people are the ones who have the least, and Candora is full of wealthy, entitled nobility and a royal family who can pay me double what I made in the Special Forces. It’s the rest of the country who can make the shift into a more selfless way of thinking, but that’s why Grimstad is running in the first place. He’s not part of the nobility or the wealthy, and his whole platform is about the common man.
I really hope Freya’s engagement right now is because she’s learning as much of Grimstad’s plan as she can so she can counteract it. Not because he’s starting to charm her into thinking he might be a good choice to rule.
Mostly because heisa good choice. That was obvious from the beginning.
“At least we can agree on something,” Grimstad says and stands, his half-eaten plate of food in hand. “Your Highness, I don’t want to monopolize your time while you’re here, but it was nice to talk to you. Maybe we can speak again soon.”
I’m on my feet in an instant, almost without thinking about what I’m doing. “Maybe not, Grim.”
“Elliot,” Freya says in warning.
As his lips quirk up in a smile, Grimstad glances at Freya before nodding at me. “Grim. Not super original, but I’ll take it. Look after her, American. You never know what people might do.”
I would grab his arm if Freya didn’t grab mine first, holding me back. “Is that a threat?” I snarl, tempted to pull free and show Grimstad how I handle threats.
He looks down at the place Freya’s fingers cling to my forearm, his eyebrows pulling together. “A request,” he says calmly and meets my furious gaze again. “I don’t want to see Princess Freya come to harm any more than I want to be king for my own gain. Not everyone is out for blood, Reid.” He bows his head to Freya, who nods in return. “I believe the people are planning a party to celebrate all of their guests tonight. Your Highness, I would be honored to dance with you, if you choose to attend.”
Not a chance.
“I would be delighted,” Freya says.
I swear under my breath.
With a final nod, Grimstad turns and makes his way down the street, waving at people as he passes. All of them wave back.
