Page 88 of Royal Rising

“I’ll find out for you.”

“He’ll be here for a couple of days, but they’re sending us home. Duncan is going to stay the rest of the night with him, in case Dad wakes up.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m going back to the castle,” he says.

“You want to stay together.” I nod, disappointment flooding me because I won’t see him, even as I nod.

“Are you okay to drive up?”

My heart trips at the question. Not so much the words, but how he says it.

Like I’m expected to be there with him. I haven’t been inside the castle since I was eighteen years old and Kalle left to play baseball.

“Are you sure?” I whisper. “Shouldn’t it be—?”

“Family. That’s you. Please.”

I close my eyes, smiling, even with the drama of the night. “Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

I end the call, happy for the king and…

Happy for me.

30

Kalle

The caravan of SUVsdrives back to the castle at a much slower pace this time.

There’s a sense of excitement, mixed with exhaustion. Smiles, through the tears.

Mrs. Theissen greets us at the door, her gray hair less severe, wearing a cardigan over loose pants, a far cry from her usual austere outfits.

I feel her gaze observing everything as we file into the foyer. “I’m so glad he’s okay,” she says. “Can I get you anything?”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Lyra says. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why don’t I fix you a snack?” Mrs. Theissen suggests. She glances at me. “I’ll bring it to the big office.”

Bo squeezes her arm with a tight smile. “That’ll be perfect.”

Silently, we head to Dad’s office, which is more of a man cave/place to hang out than an office where business is conducted.

It even smells like the king.

Evidence of him is everywhere, even more than I have at the bar. Gold records and framed pictures hang on the wall; his gold medal and the shotput he uses as a paperweight. Books are everywhere because Dad loves to read.

There’s still a photo of Mom on his desk, and a huge framed one of the seven of us hangs behind his desk. It’s not the official family picture that hangs in one of the halls, but a casual one that Duncan took one day after dinner.

We’re grouped around Dad, who is seated at the head of the table. Lyra, at fifteen, hangs over his shoulder; Mom has her arms around Bo like she’s drawing him into the shot. Odin and Gunnar stand side by side with identical smiles on their faces.

I look a lot like my father.

Everyone looks at that picture when they come in.

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