Page 12 of Royal Resistance

Someone has obviously briefed the new king. Not only did he get the title right, but he made no mention of the abdication debacle.

Not that it was a debacle for my father—just me.

Magnus greets Lorraine, showing my new step-mother the same respect he gives Papa. In their brief conversation, Lorraine laughs and smiles, clearly charmed by the new king. Her cheeks are pink as my father finally moves on to the man beside the king.

He looks familiar—longish dark hair, impeccable suit—but I can’t place him.

Before I can give it much thought, I’m standing before King Magnus, blinking up at him.

He’s very… tall. And broad, with shoulders better used in an American football game than sitting on a throne.

His hair gleams red in the light of the chandeliers, and laugh lines crease around his eyes. Blue, I decide, the shade of the Baltic Sea in December. His beard is nicely trimmed, but someone seems to have forgotten the hair on his head. Or maybe he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous.

He doesn’t seem nervous. No, that’s me.

I don’t know where the nerves came from. Magnus isn’t handsome in the polished, princely way the press adores. His brother, Dante, fits that description perfectly, but Magnus is more rugged, more real. Like the castle.

I can also tell from the way the king looks at me that he doesn’t remember me. Or maybe he wasn’t briefed that I was on the invite list, because Magnus has a questioning expression on his face as he stares down at me.

And then he gives himself a shake. “Selene,” he says, sounding amazed. Magnus takes my hand, but before he can shake it, he brings it to his mouth. His reddish beard tickles as he presses his lips to the back of my hand.

“I…” It’s been a while since a man has kissed my hand, and unfortunately, it shows.

“It’s good to see you again,” Magnus adds. He’s still holding my hand, blue eyes appraising me with a mischievous gleam.

I pull my hand away. “Your Majesty,” I manage. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“I had the opportunity to meet King Julian,” Magnus says, ignoring my flinch when he mentions his name. “He sent his regrets. Something about imminent labour…”

The new queen of Avelaine is about to give birth, forcing me a step further away from the throne. Not that I’m steps away—I am leaps and bounds and an entire ocean away from the throne of Avelaine now.

“I’m not one to speak ill of another king because god knows there are so many out there speaking ill of me, but I will say, I feel you would wear that crown much better than Julian,” Magnus admits.

He… Did the king of Laandia just say that? And say it so sincerely. At least I think he was sincere.

“I’m sure Julian will do a wonderful job,” I say automatically, the same response I’ve been giving for the past eight months.

Magnus cocks his head. “Do you really think so? Because my brother still won’t talk to me after I got this.” He touches his crown with a rueful smile. “I can’t imagine you aren’t a little bitter about how it all went down. Happy for your father, of course.”

“Of course, I’m happy for my father.”

“That’s what I said.”

The man beside him gives him a nudge with his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Magnus apologizes. “He makes me behave. I’m sure you know Duncan Laz, my right-hand man, the one responsible for me standing here tonight.”

It’s not until I get the full effect of Duncan’s hair and eyes that I recognize him. At least I think I recognize him, since it’s difficult to tell with his shirt on.

“The Doubtful Duke,” Courtney squeaks from behind me. My assistant has met Bono, Princess Diana, and Brad Pitt, and she squeaks meeting the model of a romance novel?

Many romance novels.

“Selene, he’s on the cover of the book I just loaned you,” she says, tugging at my arm. “You have to recognize him. The shirtless one with the—”

Now it’s my time to nudge.

Magnus laughs and claps Duncan’s shoulder. “Most of Duncan’s covers are him shirtless, and he pulls it off better than anyone I know,” he says with pride.

Pride. Not derision.