“My brother spoke highly of your military service,” he says, his tone neutral yet somehow conveying that he remains to be convinced of my worth. “I look forward to our negotiations.”
I gesture toward the palace doors. “Please, allow me to show you to your quarters. The blessing ceremony isn’t until sunset, but I expect you’ll all want to rest.”
Kit and Charlotte lead the delegation, chatting easily with the elders as I trail behind. As we walk, Rangi falls into step beside me, close enough that our arms nearly brush. “You look well, Leo,” he says softly in our native tongue. “The years have been kind.”
“As do you.” I risk a glance at him. “I heard about your commendation. Sounded dangerous.”
His expression softens. “You kept track of me?”
“I...” I falter, caught between honesty and propriety. “It’s my duty to stay informed about military matters.”
“Ah.” Something flashes in his dark eyes. “Duty. Always duty with you.”
Before I can answer, Victoria, Kit’s personal secretary, appears, tablet in hand. She’s temporarily serving as my support while my assistant is on parental leave. The woman is a study in contradictions—her navy suit is crisp and perfectly tailored, yet her dark hair remains perpetually askew, as if she’s been caught in a windstorm on her way to a meeting. One side of her stylish oversized glasses is held together at the hinge with what appears to be a paperclip, a makeshift repair that I doubt will be fixed anytime soon.
She catches my eye, making a beeline my way. Even from across the room, I can see the ink stains on her fingers—ink stains which always confuse me considering I rarely see her using pen and paper instead of her tablet. Yet despite these small chaos markers, Victoria Fleming is unquestionably the most competent person in the palace—possibly in the entire kingdom.
“Your Highness.” She stops before me, bowing slightly in deference to the occasion. “The tribal elders from theMoohiahjuclan are arriving.”
I catch Tahma’s watching her, his stoic expression flickering briefly with something that might be interest as he takes her in.
Victoria doesn’t notice his attention, already turning to Rangi. “Captain, if you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to your quarters. I can give you a summary of the next few days while we walk.”
“Thank you,” Rangi says, but Tahma speaks before they can move.
“I’ll need access to the security overview for the meetings,” he states directly to Victoria, bypassing the normal chain of command.
She doesn’t miss a beat, reaching into her giant tote to extract a folder from her stack. “Already prepared, Lieutenant. Along with maps of the palace grounds and clearance for the ceremonial weapons you brought.” She hands him the folder. “I’ve also arranged for a tour for you and your brother with our chief of security to assist with your assessment.”
A flicker of surprise—and perhaps respect—crosses Tahma’s stern features. “Efficient.”
“I try to be,” Victoria responds, pushing her glasses up with one knuckle and leaving a smudge on the lens that she doesn’t seem to notice.
For a moment, I think I see the ghost of a smile touch Tahma’s lips, but it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“My brother takes our traditions very seriously,” Rangi comments quietly beside me. “He rarely leaves tribal lands, so this is... significant.”
“I’m glad he’s here,” I reply, meaning it despite Tahma’s clear reservations about me. “We need all the expertise we can get for this project.”
“Just be prepared, Tahma doesn’t believe in diplomatic niceties. If he thinks something will threaten our heritage, he’ll say so—loudly and repeatedly—regardless of royal protocol.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” I observe with a raised eyebrow.
Rangi laughs, the sound warming something in my chest. “I’ve mellowed with age. Tahma is still young.”
“The meeting, Your Highness?” Victoria prompts.
“Of course.” I bow to the delegation. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Actually,” Charlotte interrupts, appearing at my elbow, “I was hoping to discuss the heritage gardens with Captain Rangi before the meeting. Since they border several of the sites under discussion.”
The delegation and Tahma continue on while Charlotte, Rangi and I linger. I recognize my sister’s suspiciously innocent expression. It’s the same one she wore when she used to “accidentally” lock Kit and me in a closet when we were children.
Rangi’s attention shifts to my sister, his expression warming. “Princess Charlotte. I heard congratulations are in order.” He nods at the ring on her finger. “Your husband is a lucky man.”
“Please, call me Lottie.” She grins up at him. “Anyone who made my brother curse in three languages during military training deserves to use my first name.”
I choke. “How did you?—”
