Page 91 of The Midnight Princess
Jacob grunts a laugh. “Is your mother going to let Ella come to the state dinner in a trouser suit?”
I kick my shoes off and kneel over the back of the sofa, watching him. Each move he makes is controlled and certain.
“They got into it for twenty minutes. Honestly, Ella would kill in a pair of narrow black pants but it’s nearly impossible to pair that kind of thing with a sash, orders, and a tiara.”
I don’t stop to weigh my words or wonder how he’ll use them. What’s happened to me?
“I heard Max was coming to a family dinner.” He wipes a bead of glue and moves to the next section of paneling. “True?”
“Who are you gossiping with?”
He smiles over his shoulder. This isn’t part of persuading each other, but I’m tempted nevertheless. “I built Nils a new filing system for the guard house.”
I touch his cheek with the back of my hand. He doesn’t pull away but leans into it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. I need this. He needs this. “It’s true. Mama extended an invitation after Freja’s housewarming. It looks like Max the Naval Hottie has conquered the Summer Palace.”
“Who are you calling a hottie?” His brow lifts.
My hand falls away and I smile. “Clara will be pleased.” My little sister is over the moon, but I release a small sigh. Jacob gets to his feet, attuned to my shift in mood.
“I’m not giving in,” he says before he settles in the corner of the sofa and gathers me into his arms, wrapping me in an embrace that keeps me from getting fuzzy around the edges.
Clara is a fighter. Freja never consulted anyone before acting to secure her own happiness. These facts trouble the House of Wolffe, but Mama’s forbearance of my two siblings doesn’t herald a newfound liberality toward the rest of us. She called me her steady right hand. My role is helping her to keep the ship of state on an even keel.
The broken engagement is trouble enough, but I’m sure she has Caroline running up a new list. Perhaps she’s already engineering an event to perform a quick, economical series of introductions. Maybe she’s planning, this time next year, to begin a series of discreet appearances, rolling him—this invisible suitor’s face has no form or substance—out slowly. I will be her great hope.
What would she say if I demanded that a certain Vorburgian prince be placed on the spreadsheet?
I push out all thoughts of Mama and burrow more deeply into Jacob’s arms. “I’m not giving in,” I echo.
We stay like that for more than an hour. A setting sun reflects off a mirror and travels across my closed eyelid, turning the world to amber.
Jacob’s phone pings a notification and I read the text.See? Nothing to worry about. Test results are on the patient portal if you want to be nosy. When are you coming home?
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s my mom. She battled cancer when I was a kid.” I nod. I know that part of the story. “She still needs regular check-ups, but I prefer to go to appointments with her, if I can.”
I lace my fingers through his.
“You agreed to be the crown prince because of her,” I say. I wondered for so long, but now I know without asking. It wasn’t that she pushed him into it. It wasn’t because he wanted it. It wasn’t the title or the castle. For all our differences, Jacob is as loyal to his family as I am to mine.
“I was an inconvenient kid. I came along at the wrong time. I was the reason she went back to Blackberry, and I ate like a horse.” He pulls me in more tightly.
“None of that was your fault.”
“I know.” He brushes a thumb along my index finger. “I know. She could have gotten rid of me or dumped me on my grandparents but she—”
“Willingly took up the duties laid at her feet,” I finish. “She became a new creature to meet the challenging road before her?” I understand now. He was formed by a woman who knew how to make a sacrifice. I wonder if King Otto knows how lucky he is that Tiffani Fawn Gardner is the mother of his heir.
“Stop trying to draw parallels, Alma,” he says. “The cancer scared her, and she wanted me to know my father.”
“And when the judgment came down?”
“We were all surprised. She didn’t ask me to do it.”
“But she wanted you to.”
He breathes deeply. “You were going to tell me why I don’t want to be a man of the people,” he reminds me, bringing our hands up to kiss. We’re acting as though we have settled things between us—as though wanting an agreement is the same as having it.
