Page 92 of Fallen Crown

“You’re the crisis,” Nick says. “He sent me here to manage you.”

“How the mighty have fallen when you’re the sane and rational one,” I say while I stare at the ceiling.

“You’ve never been the sane, rational one.”

“Neither have you.”

“Fair point. Together, Alex would have argued we still made up half a brain.”

That makes me laugh despite myself. A perfect Alex comment. Silence falls between us again, and it’s thick with my anxiety.

“I’m terrified I’ve ruined any chance I had with her.” The thought has been on repeat in my brain since I woke up.

“You’ve only ruined it if you stop trying to make it right. Trust me on that.” Nick sinks deeper into the recliner.

“Honestly,” I say, sitting up, “I expected more gloating from you. I’m fucking miserable.”

“Oh, I’m gonna gloat,” Nick says with a grin. “I’ve got days, though. Can’t waste all my best material out of the gate. My baby brother is finally in love, and it’s the biggest mess I could have ever hoped to see.”

Love.

I let out a deep sigh. It’s the word I haven’t allowed myself to attach to this feeling, but it can’t be anything else. I’ve fallen off my aloof emotional perch and straight into the depths of love with Maren Tucker.

We have the opening speeches for Denmark’s Climate Change Summit in less than an hour, and I know I have to speak to Freja before the event is in full swing. The schedule is packed with appearances from one or both of us on a variety of climate change issues. While our schedules were created to line up almost exactly, nothing I want to say to her can be said in public.

I knock on the door to Freja’s suite of rooms, and she calls for me to come in. There’s a woman putting the final touches on her makeup and a man finishing the updo of her brown hair.

“Did you win?” she asks.

“Bound by an NDA not to answer.”

“Those photos on social media certainly seemed celebratory.” There’s no bite to her words. Things have never been like that between us. She checks her appearance in the mirror and gives a satisfied nod.

“Everyone was celebrating,” I say. “We survived.”

“Can you both leave us?” She tips her head toward the door to her suite, and the makeup artist and the hairstylist slip out. “What’s bothering you? You’re never so serious.”

I wander the room, picking up framed photos and setting them down again. There’s no easy way to broach the subject, and even suggesting it makes me feel like a bad person. But if I’m going back to Bellerive to give it my best shot with Maren, I can’t have any dangling threads that might embarrass her or make her uncomfortable. Considering how skittish Tucker is, any excuse to say no to me will be all she needs.

“I’m wondering whether you feel like you’ve made enough progress that you might not need me anymore.”

“This is about Maren Tucker?” She rotates on her stool to face me rather than watching me through the large mirror. “There was a lot of heat coming off those photos. Made me blush.”

Not surprising. Part of the reason I’ve been summoned to Freja’s side the last year was due to a sudden onset of social anxiety. Simone thought I might be able to help ease Freja’s mind since I’ve never met a person I can’t charm—according to Simone, not me—though, I wasn’t exactly going to refute that. She equated me to a golden retriever but not nearly as loyal.

I’ve been turned into Freja’s emotional support animal for charity functions, diplomatic dinners, and bigger things like this climate summit where Freja is expected to be there but needs someone at her elbow in case the room starts to close in. Her family reduced her obligations as much as possible, which has allowed me to be here when necessary.

Anyone could do the job I’m doing. They could, quite literally, buy and train a golden retriever to take my place, but I’m aware of the larger picture. Simone’s ability to dictate my fate and lord it over Alex is a big piece, and my frequent appearances feed the narrative that our families are closer than anyone ever realized. Alex embarrassed her, and her family and I became the consolation prize.

For the most part, I haven’t minded. Throw on a suit, let the royal facade descend, and work the room. Simple. Keep Freja from losing her chill in public. I’ve only had to step in to get her out of a room once or twice. The fact that people and members of the press have assumed some sort of relationship exists between me and Freja allowed her real issues to remain private, and neither of us or our respective PR departments have corrected those assumptions.

“It’s about Maren, yeah,” I admit. “The press has created this whole narrative about you and me that we both know isn’t true.”

“And what does Maren think? Did you tell her?”

“Signed an NDA for what I’m doing with you too, didn’t I?” I grimace. Had Tucker pushed for more information, I would have broken it. Admitting that here would be foolish. “Not that she cared to know, anyway. But when I go back to Bellerive, I can’t have her doubting me.”

Freja crosses her arms, and her brown eyes scan me from head to toe. “A year ago you showed up here all jokes and swagger and easy-breezy charm. Do you remember you told me to be careful not to fall in love with you because you weren’t romantic-lead material?”