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His mother who had also been Cesca’s mother, that was.

The gallery was open, even though it was New Year’s Eve.

“We are closing shortly,” warned the security guard as he entered, clearly not recognizing the new Prince.

Something that might have been humbling, had Saviero had the capacity to care about such things when he’d misplaced the Queen.

He was already second-guessing coming here, he thought as he walked inside. Just because he remembered that moment with Cesca all those years ago, it did not mean that she did. Or even if she did, it didn’t follow what she remembered was the moment that had captured him so completely.

Though he had to wonder if what might have drawn her to that particular alcove, away from the rest of the gallery, was her mother. And that it might well have been what she came to find again tonight, the love in every line she’d told him about once before.

Still, as he made his way through the airy halls of the museum, he couldn’t help but second-guess himself. He was sure he’d made a mistake and Cesca was somewhere else, and he couldn’t escape the overwhelming feeling of doom that had been growing in him since she’d left that meeting.

A voice kept repeating the same unhelpful, painful refrain inside of him. If you don’t find her, and now, all will be lost.

There were people throughout the gallery, though far fewer than the usual crowds that flocked here. He had to remind himself that tonight was a holiday. That most people had plans. The palace had its own firework show, if he recalled correctly, and the monarch usually allowed a photo or two from the balcony overlooking the kingdom.

He was certain all of this was in Cesca’s schedule. It was only these unexplained hours to herself that were not.

When he reached the special collection featuring the art of Marcellus Dano, the most celebrated Lianderoan painter in the kingdom’s history, that sprawled across the top level of the gallery, he encountered fewer people. Likely because most of the gallery’s visitors today knew that it was closing early and were making their way to the exits.

He was moving in the opposite direction. Off to the side, in its own section, was the Queen’s Collection. The art that the Queen Mother had collected in her lifetime that had sparked the idea to open this gallery and make that collection accessible to the public.

Saviero did not encounter another person as he made his way through the gallery spaces that featured the art that had once hung in the palace. His heart was still kicking at him. There was still that voice of doom in his head. But he was here and he had to check for Cesca, and if he couldn’t find her…well.

Then he might have to involve the Royal Guard.

But when he made it to the even more private alcove that featured the Queen Mother’s personal drawings, he let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

Because there was only one person in the small, airy room.

And it was the only person who mattered.

Which was another answer he didn’t want, he was well aware.

Saviero stood there in the doorway, studying her as she sat there. She had taken to wearing her hair up all the time now, and he could not deny that it gave her a particularly sophisticated, queenly air. Yet when he thought of her, always, it was with all those strawberry-blond waves down around her shoulders, his hands in the rough silk of it, and that warm scent she wore, like roses in the sunshine.

He waited for his heart to settle down, but it didn’t. He found himself pressing his palm against his chest, but that didn’t help.

Almost like the cardiac event was the Queen herself, and if that was the case, he supposed that he really was doomed.

His trouble was, this was the doom he’d chosen. And would choose again.

Because despite everything he knew, everything he’d gone through, everything that could happen that would destroy him—it was a risk worth taking.

She was a risk he could not bear not to take.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but we are closing—” came a voice from behind him.

Saviero turned and saw a different guard before him, only this guard recognized him immediately. Possibly because the man could also see farther into the room behind Saviero, and there was no pretending that the Queen was anyone but the Queen.

The guard dropped into a low bow at once. “My apologies, Your Royal Highness. I did not mean—”

“Please be at ease,” Saviero said, trying to sound reassuring when his heart was still battering at his ribs. “I believe the Queen would like some private time with her mother’s art. When she is done, we will have the Royal Guard make certain the gallery is secure.”

It was not a request. The guard did not interpret it as a request.

“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” the guard was stammering. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”