Page 55 of Royal Secret

The door attendants swing open the doors at our approach, and we are greeted by the butler before being directed to the drawing room where my family awaits. There’s a collective pause as everyone turns toward us, recognition lighting up their faces as they see the woman by my side — the mystery woman from the photos of us on the balcony that had set the media abuzz.

“Everyone.” I nod my head at my parents and three siblings. “Good evening. This is Courtney.”

“Ah, the lovely Courtney,” my mother says, her tone warm, even though I can nearly feel her intense curiosity. “It is wonderful to meet you. Thank you for joining us tonight.”

Christina comes forward to shake Courtney’s hand. “Courtney…?”

“Courtney Fuller,” I finish. “Granddaughter of Anna Jäger.”

Not to my surprise, there’s a hitch in the room’s atmosphere.

A murmur ripples through my family, a mixture of shock and curiosity painting their features. No one wants to mention the tense history between us and the Jägers, but everyone is thinking about it. Feeling it. Questioning why Courtney is here with me, tonight.

But then, my mother — grace personified — steps forward and embraces Courtney like a summer breeze sweeping away the remnants of a storm. “Well, that is quite the revelation,” she says with a genuine smile as she pulls back. “But today, you are our esteemed guest. Please, come sit next to me.”

Courtney looks at me, her eyes alight with gratitude for the kindness being shown, easing some of the tension from my shoulders. This is what I love about her — her ability to inspire the best in those around her, even in potentially uncomfortable situations.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Courtney does a curtsy, and I bite into a smile. She must have done some research on Bergovian customs when I wasn’t looking.

“Please, no ‘Majesty’ or ‘Highness’ here,” my mother insists, leading Courtney into the dining hall.

As they walk ahead, I trail behind, my nerves settling into a tickle of pleasant anticipation. The evening has only just begun, and already Courtney is charming her way into the heart of my family. A small, hopeful part of me starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, this dinner might unfold into something resembling peace.

As Courtney settles into the plush chair beside my mother, laughter and light conversation flutter around the table like butterflies. My siblings exchange courteous smiles with our guest, their etiquette flawless despite the undercurrent of surprise that still lingers in the air.

Across from me, however, my father’s stern face is a dark cloud threatening to burst. His brow is furrowed, eyes narrowed — not at all concealed by his attempt at a smile when catching my gaze.

“Jakob,” he says, his voice low and even. “A word, if you please.”

I excuse myself, following him out of the dining hall and into a small sitting room lined with shelves of leather-bound books. The door clicks shut behind us, and the jovial atmosphere of the dinner feels worlds away.

“Father,” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Is this your idea of keeping an eye on her?” His voice is a dangerous rumble, anger seeping through every syllable. “And what’s this about the necklace?”

From his pocket, he pulls out the note that I left in his study and waves it in the air between us.

“Father,” I say, “I am sorry that I had to take the necklace back, but you have it all wrong. I didn’t just ‘keep an eye’ on Courtney; I fell in love with her.”

He scoffs, pacing before the fireplace where embers glow with dying warmth. “And the necklace?”

“Grandfather Rolph gave it to Anna, Courtney’s grandmother.” I watch his face for any sign of softening, the history between our families heavy in the room. “It belongs to her by right. And no, Courtney’s family are no threat to Bergovia; they haven’t been for years.”

“My father didwhat?” He stops in his tracks, the weight of generations of discord pressing upon him.

“Isn’t it time we put the past to rest?” I ask. The room is quiet enough to hear the distant clink of silverware and the muted laughter from the dining hall. “Courtney has brought nothing but good into my life, Father.”

“Is that so?” he probes, skepticism laced through his tone.

“There’s one more thing…” I swallow hard, confident in the path that I have chosen but nervous to share it with him. “Courtney and I are having a baby.”

For a moment, he simply stares at me, as if the words need time to take root. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders drop.

We stand in silence, the echo of my announcement hanging between us like mist. I search for any trace of the storm I expect to roll from my father’s eyes, but instead, I find a rare flicker of vulnerability.

“Father?” My voice is hesitant in the heavy quiet.

“Come,” he says at last, his voice gruff with unspoken emotion as he strides toward the door. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

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