Page 4 of Royal Secret

The conversation turns to talk of the palace’s annual display of its rose gardens, but I take a moment to send Oliver a grateful look. Even though I’m the oldest and he’s the youngest, we’ve always gotten along. He doesn’t care much about inheriting the crown, although I know he would honorably accept it were our parents to choose to give it to him.

Sometimes I envy that about him — that lack of desire for something that can make or break a person’s happiness. He has his eye on other things. Exploring, traveling, learning.

The way he sees the world, things just slide off his back. It’s truly something to aspire to, although I’m so tightly wound, I’m not sure I will ever get there.

Since it is Friday night, the meal lasts longer than it would during the week. We linger over dessert, some of the earlier tension dissipated. It almost feels as if we are a normal family, although truthfully, I haven’t a clue what that feels like. My whole life I have been a royal, subject to appearances and expectations that many people cannot imagine.

Then again, at this point, I cannot imagine my life without all of that. I have been given an opportunity to make a massive difference in the world, and despite the things I have had to give up — such as privacy — I am very grateful.

“Jakob, a moment,” my father says softly as my siblings drift away from the dining room table.

I nod at him in acknowledgment, intensely curious about what he has to say to me, and follow him into his study.

He shuts the door behind us, sealing us away from the rest of the world.

“How are you, Father?” I ask, deciding to go ahead and jumpstart the conversation.

He selects a cigar and rolls it between his fingers, then offers one to me. Even though I have never liked them, I take it anyway.

“Your mother worries that you are working yourself too hard,” he says.

I blink at him in surprise. “Why would she think that?”

“She has noticed the bags under your eyes.” He pins me with a hard look.

I swallow that down, unsure how to respond. Out of everyone, he should understand that sometimes long hours are necessary in order to do what is right and important.

“Are you also concerned?” I light the cigar, watching its end glow bright.

He eyes me. “What kind of father would I be if I weren’t? Are you sure that this is the right profession for you?”

The question is a punch to the gut. Why would he even ask me that?

“You have no life outside of work, Jakob,” he goes on.

“Neither do you,” I point out.

He chuckles. “And I wish I did.”

“Father.” I stare him down. “I love what I do. Bergovia is worth it. I do not need a life outside of my job and my royal duties.”

He puffs on his cigar, his attention turning to the dark window. What does he expect of me? That I sit on my hands and watch the days pass by? What good would that do?

It certainly would not bring me the crown, that is for sure. Unless my father is planning on giving it to whichever child of his maintains a better work–life balance.

I suck in a breath, about to say this, when it hits me. He’s testing me, isn’t he? Waiting to see how I respond to his criticism.

I swallow my response, knowing I need to formulate a new plan.

No, not formulate a new plan. Rather, double down on the original one.

I need to prove myself to my father in a way that I haven’t yet, and in a way none of my other siblings can hope to.

I suck in a deep breath, sitting with the heavy truth that I’ve already done everything I can… Or at least everything I thought I could do.

I’ll figure it out, though. I must. That crown is meant to be mine, and no one will stand in my way.

CHAPTER 3

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