“No, seriously,” I tell him. “I’m Princess Lyra of Laandia and I have very tall brothers, who all have awesome significant others who willmess upwhoever dares to mess with me.” I pat my brother’s hand and glance at Camille. “Am I right?”
“I’m after them right after Edie, because she’s…” Camille gives a helpless shrug.
“Scary as poop,” I finish. “I got you. No one is going to make fun of me, O, and I’m not going to worry about getting hurt because Grayson promises these men are polite and respectful and are here for all the right reasons.” I slap my chest. “Me.”
Odin shrugs and I know I have him. “Thank you for your big-brotherly concern, and tell Kalle and Bo I appreciate their support—” Camille snickers at my sarcastic tone. “But chill out. Enough is enough.”
He doesn’t reply, and I take that as a win. “Now—” I turn to Camille as I stand, grabbing my glass of wine along with the rest of the bottle. “Want to come up and check out the new clothes I’ve got for the show before you feed me whatever amazing thing Madame Carol is making? If you’re nice to me, I might let you borrow them.”
Camille drops a kiss on Odin’s head before she grabs a second bottle and follows me to my room, Betty White trotting at her heels.
I totally have the dog on my side.
5
Spencer
T
henextday,Abigailasks me to meet her for coffee.
Before I can do that, I negotiate with the finance minister, sit in on a meeting with my father, the king, and the UK Secretary of State, and stay for Fenella’s proposal to gentrify the neighbourhood of houses on the edge of town that have been sitting vacant for the last few years.
By the time I head into Battle Harbour in time to see Abigail, I’m ready for a break.
Twelve-or-fourteen-hour days have been the norm for me since I graduated law school, but since Abigail got back, I’ve been trying to cut back. It makes her happy when I’m not falling asleep during a movie.
But she doesn’t look all that happy when I see her standing outside Coffee for the Sole, and her expression opens a yawning pit in my stomach. Something feels off.
Or maybe it’s me.
After I got back to the castle last night, I made sure I had everything I needed for the morning’s meeting. And then I spent over an hour convincing myself not to call Lyra to find out what the hell she was doing.
I couldn’t, because it’s none of my business. We’re friends—I think—so the only reason I should call her is to wish her well.
As a pseudo-member of the royal family, I could make it my business, but it wouldn’t be pretty if I got her on the phone. We’d end up fighting, like what usually happens when I question her judgement about something.
And I am questioning her judgement.
But deep down, I know there’s more to my concerns about Lyra than how her behaviour will affect the royal family.
And that’s why something feels off with Abigail.
I shouldn’t have been thinking about Lyra. I shouldn’t have let those thoughts keep me awake because I needed to be sharp for the meeting.
I need this third cup of coffee more than I usually do, and it’s all Lyra’s fault.
“How did it go this morning?” Abigail asks as I hug her hello.
“Fine. The finance minister was amenable to my suggestions and—”
“I meant, how did it go talking to the king about Lyra? I figure that would be a priority.”
I blink with surprise. There’s a crispness in Abigail’s tone, like she sharpened the edges of her words. “Why would you think that?”
“You seemed upset when Odin told us last night.”
“I wasn’t.”
