Page 45 of Royal Secret

“Right out of her hotel room.” The words taste bitter now, remembering the thrill that had once accompanied the act.

“And Father?” he prompts, knowing there’s more.

“Father wanted me to continue watching her, to ensure she didn’t have other… intentions.” My hands clench at the memory. “But something happened along the way. I fell for her, Oliver.Reallyfell for her.”

There’s a long pause, and I can see him processing the information, piecing together the shards of my shattered tale.

“Then she overheard me talking to Father about everything. She left without letting me explain.” My voice cracks at that.

Oliver’s expression softens, but when he speaks he doesn’t go gentle on me. “And you think the crown, this pursuit of power and legacy, is worth it? Worth losing someone as amazing as Courtney must be? And I assume she is amazing, as not once before this have I seen you so torn up over a woman.”

His question hangs in the air, and I’m struck by the enormity of its implication. In chasing the ghost of duty and tradition, I’ve lost sight of what truly matters. The answer has been in front of me all along, obscured by the blinding allure of the crown.

“You’re right,” I admit, the realization settling heavy in my chest. “None of it was worth it. Not the chase, not the crown, not when it meant losing her.”

“Jakob,” he says, “it’s not too late. You know what you need to do.”

And I do. In my heart, stripped of pride and pretense, I understand that I must make amends, no matter how daunting the path ahead may seem. It’s time to get Courtney back. And not only that; it’s time to discover who I am — beyond the shackles of an ancient crown.

CHAPTER 24

COURTNEY

As I push open the white picket gate, the familiar scent of Texas bluebonnets greets me like an old friend. My feet tread the well-worn path to the porch where Mom sits, rocking gently in her favorite chair, a glass of sweet tea sweating in the afternoon heat. Her eyes, so much like my own, lift and lock onto mine.

“Hey, sugar,” she greets with that warm southern lilt that I didn’t realize I missed so much. “You look like you’ve got stories to tell.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the burden of secrets untold and revelations uncovered. Before I can speak, though, I set my bags down and give her a long hug. It’s good to be home.

“Mom.” I take the rocking chair next to her. “A lot happened on my trip, but… most importantly, there’s something about Grandma I learned in Bergovia.”

Her hand stills on the armrest, the creaking of the rocker coming to a halt. “What is it, Courtney?”

“Grandma… she was noble. She had ties to the royal family there.” The words spill out, almost too surreal to believe, even now.

Mom’s mouth parts slightly, shock registering across her face before it blooms into a soft, wistful smile.

“Noble?” she echoes, disbelief and pride mingling in her voice. “Your grandmother always had an air about her, but to think…”

I nod, a small chuckle escaping me despite the tumultuous emotions. “Yeah, it’s true. It explains so much about her.”

“Goodness,” Mom murmurs, shaking her head as if to clear it. “To think of all the stories she must’ve carried in her heart.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, but they’re not sad — just full.

“Are you okay with this? With knowing?” I ask tentatively, watching her closely.

“Of course. It’s like she’s still here, giving us gifts from beyond.” Mom reaches out, her fingers wrapping around mine, grounding me. “And you brought this piece of her back to us. That means the world to me.”

Despite all the pain I’m still carrying, I feel a surge of gratitude. The trip to Bergovia wasn’t a waste after all.

“Good. If nothing else, I’m glad I could do that for you, for us.” I squeeze her hand, the simple touch speaking volumes.

“Tell me everything about Bergovia. Start from the beginning.”

And so I do. I even tell her about Jakob, as hard as that part is. As I talk, though, I find that sharing the story shakes loose some of the pain in my heart. Here, with Mom, under the vast Texassky, I find a different kind of peace, one that fills the cracks left by betrayal and loss.

“Whew.” She blows out a breath. “That’s quite the story, Court.”

“I know.” I lean back in my rocking chair, more exhausted from sharing it than I am from the long flight.

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