“Sure,” I said, stretching as I stood. “Who manages the art here?” I asked as we exited the gallery, turning left down a long hall. “I’d love to meet them and talk to them about the collection.”
“Our palace curator retired recently, actually,” Oliver answered, collecting our coats from Preston before leading me down a short staircase and out a set of glass doors onto the sprawling grounds. “We have yet to hire his replacement. We’re struggling to find someone with the necessary background who is more interested in caring for the art than being near royalty.”
We walked in companionable silence across the grounds, Oliver occasionally pointing out a sculpture or tree along the way, while I considered how hard it must be for the royal family to surround themselves with trustworthy people. Our lives were so different, yet at the end of the day, it seemed all Oliver wanted was to know that the people around him were there because of who he was and not what he could do for them. And wasn’t that really what we all wanted—to be loved for who we were? My heart ached that Oliver had to fight so hard for something so human.
After a few minutes of walking, passing several sprawling gardens and more fountains than I could count, we turned a corner, and a small cottage came into view. I heard a sharp whistle accompanied by the sound of something running toward me before I was knocked off my feet by a brownish-red blur.
A loudoofescaped me as I fell onto my back, only to besilenced by two large paws on my chest and a very wet tongue lapping at my face.
“Eugene! Off! Come!” I heard a familiar voice shout. The weight lifted from my chest; I lifted my head to see a lanky, floppy-eared dog slink to Knox, tail between his legs. Oliver, meanwhile, was doubled over, struggling to catch his breath between peals of laughter.
“I’m so sorry,” Knox apologized, reaching out his hand as he approached and helping me to my feet. I thought I felt a surge of electricity as we touched, his calloused fingers clasping my hand tightly. My stomach dipped. “He usually has much better manners than that,” he added, shooting a vexed glance over at the dog, who was now sitting on his haunches, gazing at us angelically as though to say, “Who, me?”
“Are you hurt?” Knox asked.
I did a quick body scan as I steadied myself, looking up into his deep blue eyes laced with worry. “I’m okay.”
Knox furrowed his brows. “Again, I am so sorry.” He pushed a stray piece of my hair behind my ear, sending another shiver of electricity down my spine.
I straightened my collar and brushed the snow off my coat. “You said his name is Eugene?” Crouching, I held out my hand to the dog, who glanced at me before looking to Knox.
Knox nodded to the dog. “Go ahead,” he said, taking a step back. “Yes, this is Eugene.”
Eugene trotted to me, sitting before nosing my hand in a request for ear scratches.
Oliver had, by now, collected himself and moved to where Knox, Eugene, and I now stood. “Eugene is the favorite member of the family,” Oliver said, giving the dog an affectionate pat on the head.
“Well, when his competition is Xavier…” Knox said quietly.
Oliver coughed into his fist, choking back laughter.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the joke, although I had heard enough about Xavier to think that Knox was probably right. “What breed is he?” I asked as Eugene flopped down in the snow, belly in the air. I happily responded by rubbing my hand across his chest. He snorted with joy.
Knox rolled his eyes. “He’s supposed to be a Vizsla, but right now all he’s being is a big flirt.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
I laughed. “Well, I like you too, Eugene.”
“We should actually get back to work,” Knox said, motioning vaguely behind him. “Sorry to have interrupted your…date.” He coughed awkwardly. “Enjoy the rest of your tour.” He nodded to Oliver and me, then snapped his fingers. Eugene sprang to his feet and followed as Knox turned and strode back across the grounds, past the cottage and toward a greenhouse.
“That’s where Knox lives,” Oliver said, inclining his head toward the cottage as we went in the opposite direction.
I glanced back at the house. “He does? I thought he lived in the palace? Or…” My voice trailed off. I guessed that was just an assumption I had made; I hadn’t really wondered where Knox lived before. The image of Knox lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist back in the closet flashed across my mind. I shoved the thought aside. “How long has he lived there?”
“Since I left for university,” Oliver answered. “Knox is one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet and reads more than anyone I know, but he didn’t want to go to university. He said he didn’t want to accidentally become one of those miserable old men who spend forty years working in an office only to realize after retiring that they’d missed out on life. Instead, he decided to stay here and work on the grounds crew and asked Mum and Dad if he could move into the old groundskeeper’scottage if he fixed the place up. He needn’t have worried; my parents would have gladly let him live anywhere he asked and would have happily paid for as many degrees as he wanted if he had decided to stay in school. But Knox has always tried to repay my parents for taking him in after his parents passed away. I don’t think he realizes how unnecessary that is and how much our family loves him. Mum and Dad won’t even let him dip into his inheritance, always finding ways to pay for anything he needs and insisting that he save it for his future family.”
“Oh wow,” I said, feeling a bit speechless. Oliver placed his hand gently on my lower back as he led me back toward the palace. I realized with a start that I had touched Oliver several times now over the course of the day, and none of them had elicited the same kind of reaction in me as Knox touching my hand or tucking my hair behind my ear. Not even one of Oliver’s touches was seared into my brain the way the kiss I had shared with Knox was. I was certainly becoming fond of Oliver, but my heart only raced when Knox was in the room.
Oh fuck. I was in for it.
“Hello, everyone. May I have your attention?” Adelaide’s smooth voice sounded through a small speaker at the back of the school library. The room of about a hundred volunteers quieted as we turned toward her, gathering closer.
It was a chilly Monday morning, and my fellow contestants and I were participating in the annual donation drive at the primary school where Adelaide taught. It was the first time I was interacting directly with the citizens of Wexstone, and I was looking forward to seeing more of the people who made this country special. I ran my hands down the thighs of my high-waisted brown dress pants, partially to wipe off the nervous perspiration that had soaked my palms and partially to remove any fuzz from the thick cream sweater I wore.
Adelaide showed no nerves as she held the microphone, speaking to the small crowd effortlessly. It was clear she was used to speaking in front of people on a regular basis.
“Thank you all for being here for our community outreach day. As you all know, the Garland Neighborhood is one of thelowest-income areas of Altborn, and many of the families whose children attend school here struggle to afford new coats, school supplies, and sometimes food. This donation drive is one of our most treasured annual events—so much so that we give our students the day off. We are so grateful for the donations we have received, and we are especially thankful that the royal family is here this year to help shine a light on this event.” She gestured toward Queen Isobel, who nodded in return.
Adelaide continued, “I’m sure you noticed the increased security screenings when entering today. Thank you for your patience and your attentiveness to the added safety protocols as we keep our royals safe.”
