Page 32 of Royal Secret

“That sounds great.” She seems to be trying to temper her excitement, but it sneaks through anyway.

“Nothing but the best for your exploration of Bergovia,” I reply with a warm smile, relieved to see her enthusiasm reignited.

As we enter the hushed halls of the museum, flanked by artifacts and treasures of ages past, I feel a sense of pride sharing this piece of my country’s soul. Courtney and I have this in common — a love of history, of the stories behind the obvious. When she eventually does leave Bergovia, I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself. I’ve gotten closer to her than I ever expected to, and she makes every woman I’ve ever dated look extremely dull in comparison.

There is not, to put it quite simply, anyone else in the world quite like her.

I’ve saved this museum in particular for a special day. It’s Bergovia’s finest, one that my family has supported for years. Not only that, but it is renowned throughout the world. To say I feel pride bringing Courtney here would be selling myself short.

The tour guide, a woman who is clearly in love with her job, animatedly takes us to each case. Courtney asks questions here and there, while I just listen. I know almost all of what’s being said, but from time to time a new, interesting fact catches my attention.

“Did you know about this?” I ask, pausing before a tapestry that depicts a pivotal battle in our nation’s past. The intricate stitching tells stories of valor and sacrifice, the threads woven as tightly as the bond between the people and their land.

Courtney shakes her head, her expression rapt. “No. That’s a beautiful tapestry.”

My gazes catches on a detail in the tapestry I’d never noticed before — a small emblem in the corner that resembles the crest I’ve seen in my own family’s archives. A sense of connection to these ancient threads courses through me, linking me to ancestors whose blood I share but whose lives are cloaked in the mystery of time.

“Come, this next part is especially for you,” I say, guiding her gently by the elbow to where the guide awaits beside the next display.

“Ms. Fuller,” the guide says, “we have records that suggest your ancestral family were not only nobles but also esteemed confidants to the royal family. It’s quite an extraordinary lineage.”

Courtney’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with wonder. “My family… they were close to the royals?”

“Indeed,” the guide confirms, pointing to a faded letter encased beside portraits of stern-faced nobles and gentle-looking royals.“The Jägers played a crucial role in advising the crown and were greatly respected for their wisdom and loyalty.”

Watching Courtney absorb this revelation, I feel a twinge of sadness — sadness for the disconnection she has endured from her heritage. But there’s also joy; joy in witnessing the unfolding of her understanding, the reclamation of her family’s place in Bergovian history.

“Jakob, did you know about this?” she asks, turning towards me, her face alight with a mixture of emotions.

I nod, offering a smile that conveys both my happiness for her discovery and my wish to bridge the gap between her past and present. “Yes. I did.”

Her eyelashes flutter. Is she upset that I didn’t tell her this myself?

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” I explain, hoping I did not get this wrong. “Seeing it here.”

She nods, mute, seemingly in shock. Is she thinking the same thing as I am? Wondering again about how the sapphire necklace ended up with her grandmother?

The tour guide seems to sense the tension in the air. “I will give you some time with the exhibit. Please let me know if you have any questions.”

She moves on to the next room, leaving Courtney and me alone.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Courtney stares at me, eyes big and unblinking.

I square off to face her. “No. Now, we know all of the same details. There was a political disagreement between my family and yours, and shortly after that the Jägers left Bergovia.”

She bites her bottom lip, contemplating that. “Why would my grandmother hide her life here?”

I sigh. “I do not know. Perhaps she wanted to start afresh. Cut all ties with the past.”

“Perhaps,” she murmurs, her eyes becoming unfocused.

Fearing that I’ve brought the mood down significantly, I reach for her hand without giving it proper thought. “I think your grandmother would be happy to see you here now.”

To my surprise, she doesn’t pull her hand away. In fact, her fingers tighten around mine. “I think so, too. Thank you, Jakob.”

Her words are so heartfelt, so sweet. My chest swells with pride, and it feels as if I’m standing two feet taller. For now, a brief moment in all of time, I am the happiest man in the world.

CHAPTER 18

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