Page 48 of Thrones We Steal

“He’s a damn fool.”

The voice on my right startles me, and I find King William standing just behind my shoulder, Argos faithfully pressed to his side. I process his words and turn back to find the victim of them. He’s staring in the same direction I was, where Henry and Beatrice have moved into the tent and are collecting a small array of sandwiches on a plate.

I decide against voicing any agreement on my part and instead lick my lips several times. I will probably never get used to have lipstick caked onto them. “It’s been a good turnout, don’t you think?”

He grunts and I wonder if it’s his usual contribution to conversation. He hands a sandwich to Argos who swallows it in one entire gulp.

“I’ve told him to keep his nose clean until I’m blue in the face, but it doesn’t do any good,” he says.

I look into my empty teacup, unsure of the response he hopes to get from me. “He’s never cared much about his image, sir.”

“Like I said, a damn fool.”

“Will the press smear them both?”

Just last week, rumors of the crown princess of Norway having a dalliance made it to the front pages of all the major tabloids. A select few reporters and camera crew have been allowed access to this event, and they’re sliding through the crowd like slippery eels. For the first time, I’m relieved that Beck turned down my offer of something more.

William scoffs. “They have to run their stories past us before publishing. It’s outside these gates you should be worried about. Out there we have little to no control. Free press and all that hogwash.” He takes a long drink from the cup in his hand. The scent that wafts toward me testifies to it being something other than tea.

“You think I should be worried then?” I turn to fully look at him.

He returns my gaze with a hard one of his own. “Henry will never stay satisfied with one woman. May as well look the other way.”

My mouth drops open at his insinuation. Does he think I’m interested in Henry romantically? “I beg your pardon, sir, I—”

“The staff knows better than to talk. It’s not too difficult to get what you want.”

Confusion settles over me like a fog. “I’m not sure I understand you, sir.”

His attention has returned to the crowd, where Henry and Bea are once again floating through it like they’re an ad for a bloody timeshare in Bora Bora. Unexpectedly, he swings his eyes back to me, hard as flint. “Better find your happiness somewhere else.”

His insinuation dawns on me, and I take a step backward. “And where do you suggest I look for it?”

“I understand you left a fiancé behind.”

“That is correct.” I reach down and stroke Argos’ velvety head. He presses his muzzle into my palm, begging for more.

“Is he discreet?” William says.

“I’m sorry. How is that relevant?”

From the corner of my eye I see William’s shoulders lift and drop again in a shrug. “Like I said, with enough discretion, you can have what you want.” He drains the dregs of his cup.

He is seriously suggesting I start an affair with Beck.

Obviously the exact idea occurred to me already, but I never expected to hear it suggested so blatantly, and certainly not by a member of the Crown.

Before I can think of a single thing to say in response, Henry comes up to us from behind. A strange feeling washes over me, like a child in a grocery store spotting his mum after thinking her gone. Which is unexpected, considering I want to strangle him at the moment.

“What’s going on?” Henry asks and gives his father a wary look.

Argos whines and comes over to lick Henry’s hand. Bea has unglued herself from Henry’s side and is nowhere to be seen.

William bristles at his son’s interference. “Just giving Celia a bit of advice.”

Henry looks at me for confirmation.

“We were just talking,” I say and look away. I have no intention of getting in the middle of whatever beef they have with each other.

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