Page 28 of Royal Secret

“I’ll order all of the best,” he says, not looking at me.

“Sure.” I nod, my gaze falling down, a lump in my throat.

I’m doing what I told Ginny I would do. I’m having a good time. Underneath that good time, though, something else bubbles. The awareness of the possibility that Jakob might be interested in me for something more than casual friendship.

And that scares me more than anything else.

CHAPTER 15

JAKOB

I’m up at dawn, feeling the most excited I have in years. I stretch, sensing an unusual lightness in my chest. Today marks the third day of showing Courtney around Bergovia, and I can’t suppress the smile blooming on my face. It’s as if every cell in my body is vibrating with anticipation.

I saunter down to breakfast, trying to keep my buoyant mood under wraps. But it seems to radiate from me like heat from a fire, impossible to conceal. My family all glance up from their plates, a chorus of forks pausing mid-air.

“Good morning,” I greet them, reaching for the carafe of coffee. “Sleep well?”

“Jakob, you seem… different today,” my mother observes, studying me over her reading glasses.

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” Christina teases, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

I purse my lips at her. She’s trying to come across as playful, but I know for a fact that she’s digging for some sort of information to use against me.

“Nothing’s changed,” I reply, keeping my tone light and neutral.

The truth is, I can’t risk them finding out about Courtney. With our families’ history, they might think I’m betraying them by harboring feelings for her.

And so I deflect further inquiries with talk of mundane palace affairs, and finish my breakfast hastily.

Excusing myself, I stride out of the breakfast room. I can feel their curious stares on my back, but I don’t look back.

I arrive at Courtney’s hotel, its quaint charm bringing a smile to my face. She steps out, looking effortlessly beautiful, and my breath hitches slightly. She’s wearing a soft, floral dress that sways with her every move, and her hair cascades down her shoulders, catching the morning light. There’s a scent around her, delicate and sweet, like the lilacs that bloom in the palace gardens.

“Good morning, Jakob,” she greets me with that radiant smile I’ve grown so fond of.

“Morning, Courtney,” I manage to say, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my stomach.

We set off in my convertible, and I sneak glances at her when I’m sure she’s absorbed in the surroundings.

“Today is going to be special,” I promise, more to myself than to her.

The road unwinds before us, a ribbon threading through the lush tapestry of Bergovian countryside. With every mile that slips under the car’s wheels, I watch Courtney’s expression transform, wonder lighting up her eyes as rolling hills and verdant fields spread out before us.

“Jakob, this is… it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” she murmurs, leaning forward in her seat to gaze out the window.

I feel a swell of pride. “It’s one of my favorite places in all of Bergovia,” I reply, guiding the car along a narrow lane flanked by towering oaks.

The landscape here is part of my heritage, a scene I know by heart, yet sharing it with Courtney lends it a new vibrancy, a freshness I hadn’t known it lacked.

We come upon a meadow, where the wildflowers paint the ground in splashes of color and the air hums with the tranquil buzz of life. I park near an ancient stone wall, remnants of some long-forgotten boundary, and we step out into the open air.

Courtney reaches into her bag and retrieves her camera, holding it reverently in her hands. She is a hunter in search of beauty, her lens the trap that captures and tames it. With careful steps, she moves around the field, the click of the shutter punctuating the silence between us.

“Here,” she says suddenly, excitement lacing her voice. “This is it.”

She has found a particular vista, a view framed by two gnarled trees, their branches entwined like lovers’ fingers. Courtney sets up her shot, peering through the viewfinder, adjusting the focus, and finally capturing the image with a satisfied press of the button.

“My grandmother photographed this same spot over half a century ago,” she explains, her eyes gleaming with a blend of nostalgia and triumph. “I found it in her old photos before I left Texas. I never thought I’d see it with my own eyes.”

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