Love.
The word slipped out.
Because, dang it, Idolove Finley Andersson. It’s time to stop trying to make it black and white.
It’s more than a choice. It is a feeling. A deep, unwavering feeling to protect, encourage, and stand by his side. For the rest of my life.
“You love me?” he asks, his eyes wide, hopeful, and full of awe. He covers my hand still grasping at the soft, navy blue fabric coating his arm.
“I—I,” I swallow the stutter. “Can we talk about this later?”
He grins brilliantly. “Oh, we will, pretty woman.”
A shudder runs down my spine. Now is not the time for those feelings. I have something to take care of first. “But first, let’s handle your meddling mother.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finley
Mother sits across from Lorelei and me at the long, rectangular table where we typically host state dinners. Father is beside Mother, looking every bit as tired and conflicted as I feel. I tried to deter the woman, who is dressed in a navy gown lined with gold swirling designs with gray hair adorning the top of her head under her golden crown, to allow us to speak in a more private, comfortable, low-key location, but she wouldn’t have it. A boiled turkey sits at the center of our small gathering of four with endless side dishes that could feed a small village.
Excessive.
But that’s Mother when she’s attempting to stand out. Which is also why I asked Gabriel and Anders to keep Lucy company. She doesn’t need to experience this side of my family. If I could shield Lorelei from it, I would, but she needs to get accustomed. They will hopefully become her family, too.
“Why did you go through all of this?” I finally ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence. I squeeze Lorelei’s hand, and she squeezesback. I’ve already whispered apologies to her countless times as the food was being whisked in and Mother threw sharp glances her way.
“You brought your girl home finally. I wanted to make a good impression.” Her voice is high-pitched with undertones of “how dare you question my intentions.”
“We both know you wanted to undermine Lorelei by showing off your wealth and status. Don’t lie, Mother.”
She doesn’t even flinch. “Believe what you will, son. But I simply wanted to impress the woman you have deemed worthy of becoming the next queen of Korsa.”
My hand tightens around Lorelei’s, and she winces. “Sorry,” I mumble in her ear then release her hand. I know I’ll be making fists again in no time.
“Thank you for going through the trouble for me, Your Highness,” Lorelei says with a slight bow of her head. Her voice is steady and sure, and the only thing impressing me in this room is her. “I’m in awe of your lovely dining area.”
Was that… sarcasm? I shift my eyes to Lorelei, who shows no sign of misgivings or intentional pushback.
Mother, however, must have interpreted what she said as I did because her overly pink lips turn down slightly. She clears her throat, switching to Korsan even though I asked her to please speak English in front of Lorelei. “Taak.”
“Vaarsaagood,” Lorelei replies with the slight dip of her chin. I grin, loving the way Korsan sounds in her voice. She hasn’t learned a lot, but she’s mastered pleasantries. Infact, she’s gifted in the sense she can pick up languages easily. She’ll have Korsan down in no time at all.
“You speak Korsan?” Father asks. “Finley has not informed me of that.”
Lorelei’s firm but welcoming expression never changes. “Not yet. I intend to speak fluently, however.”
“Wonderful,” Father says through a warm smile. My heart is thankful for a moment before Mother captures my attention again.
“Of course the queen of a country should be able to fluently speak its language,” she dismisses Lorelei’s efforts as if they aren’t enough. But that’s the thing with Mother… Nothing is enough unless we do exactly what she wants of us. What she insists is fit for us.
“Enough,” I state, my voice firm but respectful. “Mother, we need to address why you hired a woman named Selene to stalk our dates, why you decided to place the blame on Karin, and why you had Selene disclose our location to the press.”
The mood in the room instantly shifts, and I wonder briefly if Lorelei can feel it. I look her over once. She’s stern, sitting up rod-straight, her hands folded on top of her navy pencil skirt. I bought her this outfit (with Lucy’s help) before we left for Korsa. It’s the correct color of navy that matches our family crest. She has a white button down tucked into the skirt, and a matching navy blazer with gold buttons tops off the outfit. And because she is Lorelei, she wears her white sneakers and her hair in a ponytail.
She’s every ounce the queen that Korsa needs.
“Finley, I did not ask nor demand Selene to disclose your location. She did that of her own accord.”
