“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
“Then don't overthink it.” Rowan clapped him on the shoulder, the chainmail clinking. “Life's too short, and the good ones are too rare.”
Before Ben could respond, Viv called over. “How's he look?”
Ben turned to see both women watching them. Charlie's eyes met his, and something warm passed between them.
“I look like a king,” Rowan said, turning in a circle.
Viv beamed. “Perfect. Let's go make some magic.”
The morning sunhad climbed higher by the time the Faire gates opened, and the grounds filled quickly. Ben could hear the crowd's energy even from backstage—laughter, excited chatter, the periodic roar when someone won at the axe-throwing lanes.
Della's son Marcus was manning the forge for the day, which freed Ben up for this madness. He stood behind the main stage now—a permanent structure built to look like the front of a castle, complete with crenellations and painted stonework—and watched organized chaos unfold.
Viv had transformed. She wore a deep crimson gown with gold trim, her hair swept up under a delicate circlet. She looked every inch a medieval queen, which made sense given that she'd spent the last hour at Della's costume shop. Apparently, she and Della were now best friends.
“No, no,” Viv was saying to the streaming crew's director. “Camera two needs to be stage left. We want to catch reactions from both the players and the audience.” She gestured expansively. “And make sure you've got a tight shot ready for when?—”
“Viv,” the other director said gently. “I've got this.”
“Right. Sorry.” Viv smiled sheepishly. “Occupational hazard. I'll just... stand over here and be queenly.”
Charlie stood nearby still in her tactical gear—dark pants, boots, fitted jacket over a black tee that allowed her to conceal-carry. But Ben had seen her face earlier when they'd returned tothe costume shop so Viv could change. When Charlie saw that the Princess Evelaine dress was gone, Ben had caught the flicker of disappointment across her face before she'd masked it.
Ben smiled. Yes, maybe the princess dress had been a stoke of genius after all.
Now, watching her stand there in bodyguard mode while Viv glowed in her queen's gown, Ben found himself imagining Charlie in that dress. The way it would bring out the gold flecks in her eyes. The way her blond hair would look loose and curling over her shoulders instead of pulled back in that practical ponytail.
She'd be breathtaking.
He couldn't stop staring at her.
“Stop gawking,” Shane muttered as he passed. “You're gonna trip over your tongue.”
Ben ignored him.
“Well, well,” a voice called out. “Quite the production you've got here!”
Ben turned to see Duke Holloway striding toward them, dressed as Caiden Bramble in dark leather and wool, a chronicler's satchel slung over his shoulder. He wore an easy smile, arms spread wide in greeting.
“Rowan! Looking properly kingly, mate.” Duke clapped Rowan on the shoulder. Rowan's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but he played along.
“Duke. Good to see you.”
“And Vivienne!” Duke swept into an elaborate bow before Viv. “Your Majesty. Absolutely stunning. You're going to break the internet in that dress.”
“Thank you, Duke.” Viv's voice was carefully neutral. Professional.
Duke's attention shifted to Charlie. “And who's this lovely lady? I don't believe we've met.”
“Charlie King,” Charlie said, her tone flat. “Viv's friend.”
“Friend?” Duke's eyebrow quirked, but his smile never wavered. “Well, any friend of Vivienne's is a friend of mine. Pleasure.”
Then he turned that thousand-watt smile on Maddie, who was standing at Viv’s elbow. “Maddie, love! You look gorgeous today. New hairstyle?”
Maddie flushed pink. “Oh, yeah. Um, thanks for noticing.”
