Page 63 of The Royal in Room 3

“Because you always give to everyone else and you never ask for anything in return,” Soren said. “I wanted to give you something that’s only yours and not to be shared.”

Fuck.

I closed my eyes and pressed his face to my chest in a hug, mostly so he didn’t see how much his words affected me.

“Thank you, little prince. I’ll cherish it.”

The same way I’ll cherish you.

21

SOREN

I paced in front of the bed, clutching my phone as I inhaled slowly through my nose and breathed out through my mouth. It was supposed to ease my anxiety, but it didn’t work.

“You can do this, Soren,” I said, trying to boost my confidence. “It’s just a phone call.”

From behind the closed bathroom door came the harsh spray of running water. Jude always showered at full blast, which was why I didn’t like sharing a shower with him. The last time I’d let him sweet-talk me into joining him, he’d damned near drowned me, although it was partly my fault for not speaking up as soon as I started taking in water. I’d been too preoccupied with how good it felt to be pinned against the wall while he fucked me into oblivion.

He’d almost sent me into oblivion for good.

I tapped the screen of my phone with determination, then raised it to my ear. I still felt like I wanted to throw up the pork chops we’d just had for an early dinner, but if I didn’t call now, I would change my mind. Any minute now, Jude would finish with his shower, and then we would drop in on his mother to stay with her for a while until his sister got off work, since the part-time helper was sick.

The line rang for so long that I contemplated hanging up, but before I could decide, a familiar voice answered.

“His Majesty’s private residence.”

My steps stopped. “Bastian?”

There was a pause. “Your Royal Highness?”

“Hello,” I said, though the word came out quieter than I intended. I’d forgotten why I was calling.

“Prince Soren.” The formality vanished from his voice. “We have been worried sick about you since your last call. No one could trace where you were. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I think so.” I rubbed my damp palm against the front of my jeans.

“The last time we spoke, you said you were in jail, but you did not mention which jail. It’s given us a devil of a time trying to find you.”

“Find me?” I chuckled hoarsely. “Would I be lost if Father hadn’t sent me out of my home country?”

“My Prince, your father did what he thought was best for you at the time, given the circumstances. Would you rather have stayed in Belvaria and faced the press time and time again?”

Was that why Father hadn’t made any attempt to argue for me to stay in Belvaria? Being exiled had stung more than losing the title of crown prince.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You would not have, young prince. Are you in need of anything?”

“Actually, no. I just called to speak with my father.”

“Of course. His Majesty will be overjoyed to hear from you.” Another pause followed, quieter this time, and then, “It is good to hear your voice again, Your Highness.”

My throat tightened as the line went silent, and I thumbed a discreet tear away. I resumed pacing.

It was some minutes to nine in the morning in Belvaria. Father would already have had breakfast and was probably working out at the gym. Once, when a local gossip rag had called him the “Vain King of Belvaria” because of how notorious he was for being preoccupied with his appearance, I’d asked him if it didn’t bother him. Father had ruffled my hair affectionately and told me that his first duty as the king was to look after himself so he was fit enough to serve his people.

The line clicked open a second before my name was called on the other end. “Soren?”