Page 39 of Royal Reluctance

“Well, let’s have a friendly catch-up before things get heavy so she won’t think that. Besides, I haven’t seen her in years. I miss her.”

“I thought you were here to see Abigail.”

Spencer shrugged. “Her too. I can’t believe they just showed up without warning.”

“They would have warned someone, just not us.” While Spencer may have his finger on all things in Battle Harbour, it’s clear secrets can be kept from him.

There would have been fewer secrets if I had given him the okay to check on Hettie all those years ago.

Yet another regret to add to the pile.

When Tema gets back into the room, I’m amazed how excited she is to see us. I may be her father, but she doesn’t know me. And Spencer is a stranger.

But the little girl seems overjoyed at the company, which makes me wonder if Hettie keeps things quiet in Victoria. I know nothing of what their life is like—and I’d really like to find out.

But Spencer has never steered me wrong, so I take his advice and we keep it casual.

Though I’m not sure if Tema understands casual.

She peppers me with questions about living in a castle and the Viking ancestors, if there’s a dungeon and what would be the best way to punish the prisoners. Apparently, Kate got a bit graphic on their tour earlier.

Tema demands all the demographic information about the town from Spencer, and wants to know many people in the country call my father the king.

Along with the questions, she tells us all about her friends from home, her baseball team, and the plot of her favourite book, all the while shoveling two slices of mushroom pizza into her mouth.

She’s adorable, but exhausting.

Hettie takes it all in stride, distracting Tema when she gets too personal, making sure she has milk instead of juice, and eventually, settling her on the couch with her iPad and an episode of a kid show.

Within ten minutes, she’s out cold.

“It’s been a long day for her,” Abigail says with an affectionate smile.

Once again, I realize how amazing mothers are because Hettie doesn’t even struggle as she picks up the sleeping child without waking her. “I’ll put her to bed.”

“Wait,” I say without thinking and stand up. “Let me. Please.” At Hettie’s nod, I reach out and take her into my arms.

She feels soft. Pliable. But she’s also a dead weight, like one of the logs I have to prop on my shoulder to carry. I have no idea how Hettie lugs her around.

But it feels… nice. Like Tema belongs in my arms.

I rest my cheek on the top of her head as I carry her into the bedroom.

Hettie goes before me and pulls down the covers. “Just put her here,” she instructs, patting the pillow.

“You don’t have to change her? Or—I don’t know—brush her teeth?”

“She’ll be okay for one night. I don’t want to wake her. I’m sure she’ll be up early.”

“Yeah.” I gently set her down, pushing a tendril of hair off her cheek. Tema’s eyes stay closed, even as I pull the blankets up to her chin. “She’s really asleep.”

“She’s always been a good sleeper.”

“Yeah.” It’s the only thing I can say because I have no idea what kind of sleeper Tema is, or when she sleeps. What does getting up early mean to her? Six a.m. or ten? I don’t even knowwhereshe sleeps.

I watch as Hettie kisses her forehead and backs away from the bed.

“I’m sorry I never told you.” Hettie’s gaze is fixed on Tema so I’m not sure if she’s apologizing to me or ourdaughter.

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