Bryn laughed, a sound that Sven wanted to hear forever. “Okay, Hilda. We have a deal.”
Sven’s shoulders eased. This was going better than he’d dared hope. He pulled up a chair beside Bryn and moved a puzzle piece into place. For a moment, it felt almost normal.
They spent the next hour in easy conversation, although Sven knew better than to mistake Hilda’s interest for casual chatter. His grandmother had a way of getting answers without anyone realizing they were being asked questions.
Hilda leaned forward with her attention on the puzzle. “Tell me about your family, dear. Where do you come from?”
Bryn hesitated and twisted her hands together before resting them in her lap. “I grew up in a small town in Alabama. My parents…” She trailed off. “Well, we’re not exactly close. They were tied up in their jobs so I did most of the raising when it came to my younger sister.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, but Bryn’s answers about her home life were always guarded and short. He couldn’t read her face, but Sven knew that she wanted to talk about anything except herself.
Hilda nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes distance from parents teaches you resilience. It sounds like you’ve had to be strong for longer than most.”
Bryn smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Something like that.”
Sven wondered what Bryn wasn’t saying. It was obvious that she was skirting the questions. He couldn’t tell if her reluctance was about shame, or pain, or something else entirely. Regardless, he wanted to know more.
Instead of continuing with the topic, Hilda reached out and placed her thin hand over Bryn’s. “I like you,” she said simply. “You’ve got grit. If you’re willing, I’d like you to stay.”
Bryn blinked. “Just like that?”
Hilda’s smile deepened. “Just like that.”
Something settled in his chest, solid and certain. Bringing Bryn here had been the right choice.
But his thoughts circled back to the questions left unanswered. And about how, sooner or later, those secrets would matter to both of them.
Chapter Eleven
Bryn
Bryn hadn’t expected to find herself so at ease with Hilda. The royal woman was a stranger from a different world, yet somehow, seated at the table with a pile of puzzle pieces to keep her hands busy, Bryn heard herself answering hard questions, even if she was being purposely vague.
“So what brought you to Stagholt?” Hilda asked. “Most outsiders have never heard of our small town.”
Bryn told her about the book she had found at the library. “It was just sitting on a table when I went to do research for a project, like it was just waiting for me. The photographs were beautiful, and I just fell in love with it. My friends thought I was crazy, but it became my dream destination.” She giggled. “And you’re right. All through my life when someone asked where I’d like to visit and I’d say here, they had no idea where, or what, Stagholt was.”
“Well, dear, I’m happy that you’re here. And you’ll be a wonderful addition to the royals, I’m certain.”
Bryn shifted, still not sure how to respond. “Only until Eva returns. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m here to replace her.”
Hilda tsked. “Of course. No one will assume anything. Eva is a dear girl and has been with me for some time. I pray she recovers swiftly. I’m just saying that I’m relieved you’ve agreed to stay and help out. I get feelings about people, and I have a wonderful feeling about you.” She winked. “Just don’t hover.”
Bryn smiled, already extremely fond of the elderly woman. “Hovering isn’t in my nature.”
Hilda’s eyes twinkled. “No, I didn’t think so.”
The door opened and a beautiful woman swept in, as elegant as Hilda and with an air of authority about her. A faint floral scent surrounded Bryn as the woman hurried toward her. Sven moved to intercept her and kissed her cheek.
“Hello, Mother.”
She gave him a quick hug before she stopped in front of Bryn. “Freya Aftervadee. Mother of Sven, daughter of Hilda.”
Bryn shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Sven,” Freya swung back to her son. “Lars needs you in your war room immediately.”
“And he sent you?”
