“An entire wardrobe.”
Hugo opened his mouth to argue, but Everand picked up a tiny meat pie from his plate and shoved it into Hugo’s mouth, stopping his words. Everand then looked over at Mr. Booth, who appeared to be loving every word of their argument.
“Get started with the late spring and summer garments, Mr. Booth,” Everand commanded. “We’ll worry about fall and winter in a couple of months.”
Hugo wanted to argue, but the flaky, buttery savory pie was heaven on his tongue, and he was trying not to moan in happiness, which meant he had no ability to argue. It was too late anyway. Mr. Booth turned into a battle-hardened general, barking orders at his assistants as they gathered up all the bolts of fabric. There was an extra spring in his step as he marched out of the dressing room behind his people. This was a man who loved his job. Hugo couldn’t complain too much. He was going to receive a wardrobe created by a fashion genius.
After a few more snacks, Everand allowed Hugo to get dressed in the suit he arrived in, and they went to lunch in the prince’s private dining room.
Thankfully, after everything was set out, the servants left the room, allowing them to have a truly private moment.
“I’m sorry if this is overwhelming for you,” Everand began as he dragged his spoon through his soup. “My upbringing wasn’t…normal, as I’m sure you can guess, and sometimes I forget that most people would find this to be a lot to take in.”
Hugo’s heart squeezed at the prince’s words. “I think I get overly concerned that you’re going to feel that I’m using you when you’re just trying to show how much you care. I appreciate your generosity and thoughtfulness. No one has ever treated me so wonderfully.”
Everand dropped his spoon and covered his face with his hand, but Hugo could see the tips of his ears were turning bright red. “We need to stop. I’m so embarrassed that I’m about to burst into flames.”
They fell silent for a few minutes as they dug into the delicious food that had been prepared. It was only as Hugo was helping himself to a second helping of potatoes that he thought of something he’d been wanting to ask.
“I’ve been wondering about Wulia since that incident in the forest.”
Everand grunted. His expression darkened, and his hand tightened on his fork. “Father hasn’t told me as much as I would like, but I know that he’s sent more troops to the border. Some dispatches have arrived from King Victor that haven’t been good.”
“How not good?”
Everand shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure. Enough to make my father shout, rant, and kick over a stool.”
Hugo winced. “That’s not good. Is he angry enough to declare war?”
The prince’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Oh, no! It’s not that bad. At least not yet. My father is a lot of loud bluster and tantrums. He’s quick to anger, but he’s also quick to calm. Heneeds to blow up to get it out of his system. Then he can deal with things logically.”
“Ah, so if I ask him for your hand in marriage and he shouts and throws a footstool at my head, I know not all hope is lost?”
Everand fell back in his chair, cackling just as Hugo had hoped. Wulia was a serious topic, but he didn’t want to destroy the lighter mood. “Remember to duck.”
“Got it.”
“Honestly, if you asked for my hand in marriage, I’d be surprised if my father didn’t throw me at you.”
Hugo snickered and stabbed a potato laced with melted cheese. “You’re ridiculous.”
“No, I’m serious. I’ve been dead set against marriage since I was a child. My grandmother’s marriage was a disaster, and my parents argued a lot when I was young. They’ve gotten much better. Worked a lot of their issues out. Yet, it tainted my opinion of marriage. I didn’t think I could marry as a princeandbe happy. But you’ve changed that for me.”
“I’m glad.” Hugo hated to admit that he was in much the same boat. His mother had become so focused on him marrying for money that he’d become sure that it was unlikely that he would evenlikehis husband, let alone find happiness with him. Yet, in Prince Everand he’d found security and a joy he’d never known before.
“As to our other topic, I appreciate you using the term bandits around the servants. Father is keeping it quiet that Wulian scouts were within our borders. Our people are safe. Branem soldiers have forced Wulian’s soldiers to within their own borders.”
Hugo nodded. “I understand. Bandits are common. People get angry about them but continue with their normal lives. Wulian soldiers kidnapping Prince Everand stokes old fears ofanother war. It’s harder to go about daily life when you’re afraid.”
Everand smiled at him, a look of pride shining in his eyes. “Precisely. We don’t want them afraid until we have no choice.”
Hugo’s stomach twisted. Marrying Everand would be a dream come true. The man had become a dear friend. He made Hugo laugh and feel accepted. Not to mention, Ev was devastatingly handsome and sexy.
But there was a price that came with marrying the crown prince—the man who would one day sit on the throne of Branem. Everand wasn’t a baker or a cobbler. He wasn’t even a landowning aristocrat with an army of servants. The man next to him was royalty, and he had to worry about the well-being of the entire kingdom. He had armies of actual soldiers to command. Millions of people depended on him for not only protection but their survival.
And if he married Everand, those responsibilities and worries would fall on his shoulders as well. No, he’d never be king. His title would be Consort, but he adored Everand. There was no way he’d allow his husband to shoulder the burden of fighting and protecting the people of Branem all on his own.
Yet, he’d found keeping up with two younger brothers and an eccentric mother to be exhausting. How could he handle being a consort?
